I know it’s not Joe’s words, or seeing him again, that triggers me. It’s just my mind protecting me.
Without my hearing aid, it feels less busy in my head. The snow, and cold therapy is equally necessary. It eats at the dark abyss of failure that constantly nips at me. I’m having a hard time letting go of the truth. Discovering Oscar was responsible for Liam’s abduction, and Noinin’s, is also admitting that, if I hadn’t mentally tapped out on that day years and years ago, the two of them might still be alive.
Being too young just doesn’t cut it with me.
My therapist’s pragmatic voice of reason says otherwise. Remembering Oscar’s involvement, and O’Leary’s, and reporting them to the police would have likely had the same outcome, because the police were on their books. Still, it’s a very difficult hurdle.
Much like how Ronin and I share the same trauma is also something I find too hard to process. The depth of pain I inadvertently caused him, and his family, is real and deep as the responsibility I feel for Liam’s death.
A steady, firm touch on my shoulder causes me to scream in fright while also trying to jump to my feet. Special Agent Harris, though, is faster than I am. He needs to be. He’s also getting used to chasing after me.
“Tally! Look at me. You’re okay.” He yells loud enough for me to hear over the roaring jet engines in my head and the blizzard-like conditions. He also talks slow enough I can make out some of the words he mouths.
“You’re okay?” He cocks his head, crouching down to my level, his hands spread wide.
Yes? No? I still don’t fucking know.
“No. You are okay. Every day, you’re getting better. We’re just having a shitty start to today,” Harris mouths back. He’s careful not to touch me, because much like some topics send me spiraling, so does his touch. Or anyone’s touch.
The wind whips around us, and I watch the snowflakes turning his black beanie white. He wants me back inside. I want back inside, too, but I have to wait out in the freezing cold until the clawing need to run lets up.
He passes over Rafferty’s hoodie. Pulling it on, I curl into a ball, resting my head on my thighs, closing my eyes and opening my memories. The scent of pack curls around me protectively.
Rafferty’s wish I become addicted to them happened. And like a real addict, I constantly chase the same relief their scent and presence first brought. I’m not yet ready to admit that his hoodie no longer smells like him.
I stay in my head and wait out the storm, already knowing enough about my stubborn self to understand I’ll start thinking about going inside when I’m ready. Eventually, the inevitable happens and I sit up.
It’s no surprise that Harris isn’t sitting with me in the freezing cold. Nor am I shocked I’ve got one of those all-weather arctic blankets tucked tight around me. Or my walking stick stuck in the snow.
My leg is like a solid block of ice, and I have to get up in stages, using the walking stick to lean on. Limping inside takes all my energy. When I finally push open the door inside the cottage, all the noise in my head, and the weight in my chest, is noticeably better.
Harris has turned off the screen I was going to use for the meeting and moved my laptop over to where I always sit, next to the roaring open fire. He’s also set water, medication, and a note saying he’s doing a perimeter check on the small table.
I honestly don’t think I need to be in witness protection anymore. Being placed in the program wasn’t because of Black, Doyle and the Fanning brothers either. The four of them were arrested and taken into custody immediately. And unsurprisingly, their investigation and subsequent trial was anopen and shut case. There’s no chance of early release because of the long list of crimes they were each found guilt of.
Witness protection was because Oscar and O’Leary escaped. It took a while, but eventually and only very recently, were they seen in America by INTERPOL. But the authorities weren’t the only people looking, and before arrests were made, their brutal murders became headlines on international news. The reporter absolutely nailed it when they alluded to the deaths of the “pair of Irish tourists” as being connected to the recent, and bloody, change of hands happening in the Irish Mafia.
Triple-checking the house is locked before I lock my part of the house, then my bedroom door, and finally the bathroom one too, I climb into the bath. The bath salts nip like nasty bull-ant bites on my oversensitive skin, and the saline scent makes me wish I was somewhere else. I force myself to sit submerged up to my chin, with my eyes closed and my gun in my hand until the water turns cold and my leg stops reminding me what a sap I’ve become.
Dressing in warm running gear—a girl can dream—I make my way back to the room where my day took a turn for the worst. Parking my arse in my chair next to the sofa, I call Joe before anything else.
He picks up almost instantly.
“Not as bad as the last one,” I quip before he can ask me if I’m good. “I’m back now, ready again. Sorry I had to dip out on the formal hearing, but my lawyer always said it was an optional thing. I take it she accepted medical retirement on my behalf?”
“She did. I’m only disappointed for you, Tal. I wanted you to hear the glowing commendation you received from your field officer and a couple of others who spoke. Johnny spoke very highly of you, for a long bloody time too. You did incredible in your career. You helped a lot of people and were jointly responsible for us finding, catching, and prosecuting officerswho were corrupt. I keep saying it, but I really want you to know how integral your role was. It’s my job in your life. Letting you be humble and modest over your career won’t be happening on my watch.” He swings back triumphantly, looking very pleased with himself. The hint of challenge in his features has me shaking my head at his antics.
“Are you sure you want to come and visit me? Harris will be able to tell you things get pretty whacky around here some days.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m coming. We can talk about investing your pension. And your lump-sum payout.”
“So they approved everything?”
“How could they not?”
I don’t have an answer for that.
“What are you going to do, Tal?”
