Aftermath

Ch 132: Buffering

A/N: Picking up where the last entry left off...

Kota

Dressed in polos, khakis and blue windbreakers, the two men sat down on the loveseat in our living room and faced my mother and me on the couch. I suspected that if an outsider were to look in at us, the whole tableau would appear friendly but not too friendly, like they were two salesmen that had appeared at the door and we were listening only to be polite.

Owen stood against the far wall, just outside the scene but close enough to make note of everything that was said and participate if necessary.

As I had guessed, the duo had verified they were from the military--more specifically, from Army Criminal Investigation Division, commonly known as the CID, which investigated criminal actions within the military.

The lead investigator ran his finger over his thick mustache. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering why we're here."

Nope. I already knew.

But my mother didn't seem to—or maybe she didn't want to. "This is about Ethan, right," she said, tightening her grip on my free hand and belying her calm tone. "I know he's ill."

"He's much more than that, ma'am."

Here it comes. I painted a blank look on my face even as my heartbeat quickened, the blood pumping loud enough to drown out his words. 

"...and so, Lee is no longer in our custody—"

I glanced Owen. Told you so.

Owen responded with a stern look, a reminder that I should be listening.

I rubbed my face and tried to focus, but my mind had drifted regardless. Ethan had told me this was going to happen. Ethan had even told them as much. "There's no cage that can hold a man if he really wants out of it." For that reason as well as the violence of his crime, the DB had kept Ethan in maximum security for the first part of his sentence. They had sent in counselors, put him on medication, and as time passed, he had stopped his claims.

However, by Ethan's logic, he could have left long ago. Why wait until he had less than a year left on his sentence? Was it his illness?  Knowing him, there were plans upon plans, plans A through K at minimum.

The drugs Sean had given me were still affecting me, making the whole thing surreal and giving everything a dream-like quality. Focus, Kota.

Still talking, the investigator explained that Ethan had been in the hospital last night; that was where he had escaped, not the USDB. That made sense; it would be much easier.

"Cheat if you have to," he had told me. "When it's you against them, you do whatever you have to do to make sure you come out on top."

Owen cleared his throat. "Pardon the interruption. I'm curious how a man who's being held under guard and presumably in some type of restraints makes it out of custody."

The lead investigator—Gonzalez?—looked reluctant to answer. "Who are you again?"

"He's family," my mother replied. "Family with a valid question."

I couldn't help but remember watching with Sang as the guards had brought Ethan back to the DB last weekend. Even then I had questioned why they were only using handcuffs. Perhaps given his terminal illness, which I hadn't known about at the time, they hadn't felt he was much of a threat.

"I'm based out of Charleston, so I wasn't at the scene," Gonzalez said, with more than a little edge to his tone. "But I suspect that the guards weren't watching him that closely. They are only human, after all, and Lee is a very ill man; on top of his advanced cirrhosis, he had been experiencing periodic states of delirium and hallucinations over the past few days." He nodded to me. "Then, last night he started ranting about how his son was locked in a basement with an IED and how he needed help."