“I quit,” Derek said, finding his lost smile as the words effortlessly came from his mouth. “I came back today just to let you know that I quit.”
“Cole, Derek, hold on a minute. Maybe you need some more time. Time to think this through.”
“I had all the time I need, Lieutenant. What I don’t have is my wife. And though I know that your protocols and procedures didn’t put that bullet through her brain, they allowed it to happen. I can’t work for a place that puts policy before people.”
“Now Cole, you are starting to sound like someone that we need to be careful of. You’re not planning…”
“I’m not a criminal, and I’m not insane,” Derek interrupted. “I won’t bother you or this department at all. I know what I want to do with the rest of my life and believe me, I won’t be any concern of yours, this department or any of your policies or procedures. I have no issue with anyone in this department, or on any police force across the country. I just can’t be a part of one anymore. I can’t be part of something that I blame for Lucy’s death.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
He was very good at keeping things in their proper places. Didn’t matter what needed to be put into place; tools, information, or people: everything needed to be in their right place. The moment after the shock and disbelief of what Michelle Mix had told him had worn off, he started putting things where they belonged.
The first matter to attend to was to understand how something like this, something like his son, could have happened.
“Explain to me,” he said to a trusted doctor friend of his, “to what extent genetics can play in the development of a baby.”
“A tremendous extent,” the doctor answered. “Be more specific.”
“I’ve read about children being born missing limbs or organs. Does some birth defect like that indicate a weakness in the gene pool?”
“Not always. The human genome is fragile. Many things can go wrong during the fetus’s development. Many things. In fact, the vast majority of us are born with an alteration from the original genes. Fortunately, most deviations are not severe enough to be called a ‘defect.’”
“So my twins, being born with only one heart, that doesn’t necessarily indicate that my genes are faulty?”
“Nor does the condition of their birth indicate that your wife’s genes are damaged. What are you getting at?”
“Is it possible,” he continued ignoring the question asked, “that the other baby born alongside my son, Thomas, was nothing more than a genetic error?”
“I would have a problem calling the other baby an error.”
“But is it possible?”
There were so few people he trusted and even fewer that he felt were strong enough to warrant his trust. He had built his empire, though considered small to some titans, based from his uncanny ability to read people. To judge them worthy of his trust. Weaknesses were quickly identified and, if needed to strengthen his position of leverage, exploited. When he discovered a strength in someone, strength in a trait or skill that exceeded his own, he formed a partnership.
His wife, strong as she was in her compassion, was little more than a convenience for him. She agreed that her place was beside him, smiling, supporting, looking her best, and keeping quiet when she should. From her, he drew comfort knowing that his son was being cared for and shielded from the mass of morons that filled the earth. But she could not be trusted beyond what she had been vetted for.
He had no reservations about telling her what he had learned from Mix’s wife. He expected her to allow her emotions to direct her actions, but he also knew that he could easily control her expressions.
“No,” he told her, “that is not the way we are going to handle this. Running off with emotions messing up your thoughts will accomplish nothing. For God’s sake, imagine what the doctors would do to Alexander if they knew we were on to them?”
Controlling her emotions had grown too easy. A simple smile now and then. Sending a cheap bouquet of flowers. A trip to wherever. A night staying at home. Simple.
He had no concern that she would break the agreement with him. She would keep quiet and let him figure it all out.
“I feel so heartbroken for him,” she said. “My son, our son, locked away like some lab rat. We need to bring him home soon. Please tell me that you will bring him home?”
“Just stick to the talking points and timeframe I gave you. You’ll have your son home with you before long.”
He knew she’d follow the plan. The few times in the past that she thought an idea of hers was better than his had always turned out poorly for her. She had too much to lose, and he knew it. She loved the life his plans had given her, and she wasn’t about to risk losing everything. She knew her place, and while she didn’t agree with the many of the methods her husband employed to get things done, she was comfortable in her place.
He couldn’t say that he still loved her, nor would he say that he despised her. She served a purpose, and he felt she served it quite well. What she couldn’t do well, or wasn’t willing to try to improve on, he had others do for him. All were paid handsomely for discretion.
Hiring Derek Cole was a stretch for him. He hadn’t the time to properly and thoroughly research Cole’s background, but the urgency of the events at the lodge in Piseco Lake demanded that he make a fast decision. The little that he did find out about his newest contractor suggested that Cole had the skills and abilities he needed to complete the job. He also uncovered what he would feel to be a tremendous weakness, one that may have to be further explored if Cole decided to live up to his “freelance” title.
Cole had abilities, that he knew for certain, but he sensed a streak of morality in Derek that could prove disruptive. Keeping Cole on task probably only demanded frequent payments and promises of additional income generating opportunities. But still, he needed him focused to one objective.
It was focus that he appreciated the most. While so many around him shifted their focus from one intention to another, achieving so little while advancing but inches in thousands of different directions, he remained on point. A single mission. One desired outcome. His flexibility allowed for course alterations, but nothing would be tolerated that pulled him off point.