“Yes, it is. How did you feel about being my shadow while we went in? Were you upset you didn’t get to do more?”

  “Are you kidding? No way. I felt honored that you trusted me to take me with you. I trusted in you completely and I knew you’d command me into action if you needed me.”

  “I guess the last question I have for you is, do you want to do this?”

  “Yes. Even if you end up sending my ass back to the precinct, I want a chance to see if I have what it takes.”

  “Good. I’ll have…”

  Tiffany storms over to their table wearing a pair of sweatpants and a baggy tee shirt. She looks down at Robin with tears forming in her eyes, and sweeps her arm forward, trying to smack Robin across the cheek. Robin catches her hand and stands up, holding her hand and wrapping an arm behind Tiffany’s back, holding her close. Tiffany breaks down crying, and lays her head on Robin’s shoulder, falling into her embrace. Robin rubs her back in long firm strokes, trying to offer her comfort, as she places a hand on the back of her neck.

  “I’m sorry, Tiffany.”

  She sobs loudly and clings tightly to the back of Robin’s shirt, pulling her in tighter. Robin continues to just hold her while the rest of the diner patrons look on in confusion and talk in hushed voices. The waitress appears with their meals, and places a hand on Tiffany’s shoulder, making her jerk her head up in shock.

  “Come on, dear, take a seat and let me bring you something to eat. What would you like?”

  “The Santa Fe omelet and corn muffins. Oh, and orange juice.”

  Robin helps Tiffany slide in her side of the booth and then sits next to her. Robin butters a triangle of her toast and offers it to Tiffany, who accepts it with a deep chest shaking sigh. She takes a bite and sits forward with her forearms on the table, just staring at the toast in her hands as she passes it between her fingers in a circular pattern.

  “It’s not like I loved him; I know I didn’t. But how am I supposed to raise a baby on my own? How am I supposed to raise ‘his’ baby? What do I tell it about its father when it’s older? I can’t tell my baby its father was a crazy terrorist who helped kill a hundred and thirteen people and planned to kill countless more. What will people say? How will they treat my baby?”

  Robin runs a hand over Tiffany’s soft blonde hair, and Tiffany turns to face her with bloodshot eyes and pain creasing her forehead.

  “You didn’t know that side of him. You were deceived just like everyone else. I can’t tell you what to tell your baby when it’s older, but you won’t be alone. You have friends and family to lean on. If anyone gives you a hard time, you let me know and I’ll take care of it. ”

  Tiffany smiles and leans into Robin, laying her head on Robin’s shoulder, so Robin wraps her arms around her. Tiffany rests a hand on Robin’s thigh, causing her to jerk her leg and intake a sharp hissing breath of air.

  “Oh, sorry, did I... So, he really stabbed you?”

  Tiffany sits up looking down at Robin’s thigh.

  “Yes.”

  Tiffany looks up at Robin’s face, which is badly bruised on her cheek and her bottom lip still has a small dark red cut and bruise in the corner. Her left eyebrow also has a dark red cut and a large bruise blackening her entire eye.

  “He did all of that to you?”

  “Yes.”

  Tiffany exhales hard and looks at the bread sitting on a napkin in front of her. She picks it up and continues passing it between her fingers.

  “Tiffany?” She looks up and meets Robin’s eyes. “Are you ok? I mean, do you think you need to talk to a grief or trauma counselor?” Tiffany releases a small laugh and shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. I’m just worried about my baby being picked on or turned into an outcast when he or she is older. I’m actually thinking about moving away from here before my kid starts school so it has a better chance at a normal life. Andre left me enough money to live pretty comfortably for several years without actually having to work. I think I’m going to take some classes online to finish my bachelor’s degree for interior design. I had to drop out a few years ago because I just couldn’t afford it. But now, I can get my degree and maybe have my own business. Interior design would kind of be wasted around here, so even if it wasn’t for the baby, it would be better for me to leave this tiny town if I want a real career. ”

  “It sounds like you have a pretty damn good plan. You’re a strong person, Tiffany. You’ll be ok. You’ll be able to do this.”

  Tiffany gives Robin an appreciative smile and leans in to hug her. Tiffany kisses Robin on the cheek for a moment and looks in her eyes with their faces only a few inches apart.

  “I’m sorry I tried to slap you. I wasn’t angry with you. I was just angry at the situation.”

  “I know. It’s ok, really. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Here you go, dear. Eat up.”

  Tiffany accepts the plate and glass of juice from the waitress with a smile and a nod.

  “Thank you.”

  The waitress leaves and Tiffany looks awkwardly between Robin and Eric.

  “Is it ok that I’m…?” Robin smiles and grabs her own fork. “Yeah, you’re fine. Eat.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Grace walks in the door with a large file box under one arm, and her briefcase slung over her other shoulder. Robin hops up from the couch and relieves her of the box.

  “There are two more of those in the car.”

  “Damn. Ok, I’ll get them.”

  Robin retrieves the boxes from the backseat of Grace’s car, stacking them together, and then sets them down next to the couch. Grace walks in with two glasses of wine and gives one to Robin before sitting down with her sock covered feet resting on the edge of the coffee table.

  “Dinner smells good. What are you making in there?”

  “Spicy pulled pork roast for tacos. It just needs another hour.”

  “Sounds good. Come here.”

  Robin walks around the coffee table and sits down next to Grace, who pulls her into a wine sweetened kiss before laying her head on her shoulder.

  “Today was a very long day. These boxes are only a small chunk of the amount of records Intelligence found on all of those guys we arrested. The amount of records they’ve pulled from Michael Byron’s computers and phones is even more insane and they’re still digging stuff up. They’ve identified four more recruiters and are in the process of locating them. This case is going to drag on for a long time.”

  “I have news that will cheer you up.” Grace lifts her head with a smile and searches Robin’s face and eyes. “Eric agreed to be your partner?”

  “Well, yes, but that’s not the news. We still have an invitation to the police ball next month.”

  Grace releases a happy laugh and wraps her arms around Robin, pulling her wife back into a passionate kiss. They kiss for several minutes before Grace pulls back breathing hard and smiling.

  “That makes me very happy. It’s nice to have something normal to look forward to.”

  “We never got our weekend away to your uncle’s cabin because of all of this. Do you think we can talk Hodgins into letting us take a small vacation soon?”

  “Probably not till we have these other recruiters in custody and get at least one round of interrogations done on all of these guys.”

  “Alright, I guess I better get up to speed then so we can get this over with. What do I need to know for tomorrow?”

  “Hodgins wants us to start with the guys that we caught at the command center since they were probably the most trusted and informed.”

  Grace slides the boxes over and pulls the lid off of the top box. She pulls out the first folder, and flips it open on her lap while Robin scoots in to sit with their sides pressed together.

  “We’re going to start with this guy – Maximum Bollinger. He actually worked under Michael Byron’s command for four years and was in the marines for ten years. Despite Byron’s recommendations to keep him, he was medically discharged. ”

  “What was wrong with him?”

  “He sustained a bad neck injury that required four pins to be implanted in his spine. He lost partial mobility of his neck and suffers from occasional hand tremors.”

  “That doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to medically discharge him, especially since he had been in service for so long, and his commanding officer vouched for him being a valued and contributing soldier in his current condition. I know people are discharged for far less, but there are also plenty of men and women still in active duty with worse injuries than that.”

  “That was part of their argument. It appears the decision may have been driven by a personal bias against him. We dug deeper into Bollinger’s personnel file, and he had several run ins before this. Two counts of misconduct with female officers, and one count of disobeying an order from a commanding officer, who was a big voice against him being allowed to remain in service after he was injured.”

  “What did he refuse to do?”

  “He was ordered to lead his unit in a ‘take no hostages’ mission in a preemptive strike against a village in Syria that was believed to be a hideout of a branch of ISIS. He led the attack, but when they arrived, the village was just a bunch of farmers and there were women and children everywhere. The entire village surrendered and he accepted their surrender, not killing a single man, woman, or child. The intel they had on the village was wrong, so Bollinger’s decision saved us from some huge embarrassment and criticism from the rest of the world, but he was disciplined for not contacting his commanding officer for direction and for acting on his own.”

  “What was his punishment?”

  “Six months of unpaid suspension. ”

  “Fucking unbelievable. And they wonder why these guys get their heads all twisted up.”

  “Yeah, Hodgins threw the file across the boardroom when he read it and then stormed out. It’s a lot of the same kind of situations with all of these guys. Some of them have done some messed up shit, but a lot of them have received some very unjust punishments just for trying to do the right thing.”

  “So, whoever organized all of this is taking advantage of their grudge against the system for mistreating them for trying to be decent human beings. We may not be dealing with an actual American citizen. We may be dealing with a foreign enemy who is trying to cripple us from the inside.”

  “That’s a really good possibility. If we can find a common link between Byron and the other recruiters, we might be able to figure out if that’s the case. A lot of the missions Byron completed are classified. Hodgins is trying to get the Pentagon to release his entire file so we can see if he can be linked to any known foreign enemies.”

  “Do we know if Byron was ever in Syria?”

  “He was on two deployments to Syria, including the same period Bollinger was there when he was disciplined for not shooting up that village. Byron received a slap on the wrist for defending Bollinger’s judgement to spare the villagers.”

  “Did they have any meetings with any Syrian government leaders or the militias?”

  “We don’t know yet. Parts of their deployment time is classified.”

  “Of course, it is. Do either of these guys have significant others?”

  “No wives, and we don’t know if they’re dating. We’ll have to bring the families in for questioning to learn more about them on a personal level. Bollinger had a wife who passed away three years ago after a bad car accident. Byron has been divorced twice.”

  “Why weren’t there any women in the organization?”

  “We were asking the same question all day today. Some of the guys have been disciplined for misconduct with female officers, but we haven’t found anything yet to support an elitist mentality against women. Statistically, women are less prone to extremism, so it might just be a strategic maneuver by the leader to exclude them from recruiting.”

  “So, we’re dealing with a person or group of people who are depending on their recruits to be emotionally torn on what is right and wrong, has been demonized for attempting to be good people, and are willing and experienced in taking orders to kill in mass proportions. Whoever is behind all of this must have access to this information in order to know who to recruit. The likelihood that this is just a civilian wanting to cause chaos is very unlikely.”

  “Agreed. The ‘official report’ is that Byron retired early for personal reasons, but it appears he may have received some strong pressure from his commanders encouraging him retire. He was very outspoken against the president and has a history of being unsatisfied with the Pentagon’s handling of the fight against terrorism overseas and on home soil, so much so that it appears it may have affected his ability to be trusted to lead his troops the way he was expected to. Towards the end, he was relentless in trashing Homeland Security for setting up young Muslim converts by posing as jihad recruiters on social media and pushing them over the edge and getting them to push the detonators of fake bombs.”

  “Yeah, well, just about everyone trashed them for those deceptive ‘preemptive’ tactics. There is no evidence to support that they actually prevented those people from committing a crime they would have done on their own or that they would have joined a jihad group if they weren’t aggressively recruited like they were by our own government. If any good comes out of this situation, it might be a national scrutiny on these types of preemptive measures our government takes all too often.”

  “That’s the angle Hodgins plans to take when presenting the evidence and information on this case. He wants to smoke these assholes out of the system who create disasters on purpose to appear like they’re saving humanity, when they’re really destroying it. He’s already calling for that asshole Andrew McGlynn with Homeland Security to resign and several others are backing the demand.”

  “Good. He should be fired, but a resignation will do.”

  “How are we doing on time for that delicious smelling dinner you’re making?” Robin smiles and gives Grace a kiss on the lips. “I’ll get busy on finishing touches so we can eat.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Grace walks into the interrogation room with a cup of coffee in one hand and a thick file in the other. She sets the folder down, flips it over, and tosses a stapled stack of papers in front of Michael Byron, who is sitting across from her with his hands cuffed behind his back.

  “Alright, fill in the blanks. We already have all of the evidence we need to convict you of a laundry list of felonies. Now, tell me who you’re working for. Who’s funneling you the huge deposits of money in your bank accounts?”

  He just stares at the wall directly in front of him, looking past Grace. She takes a sip of coffee and licks her lips as she starts walking around him.

  “Ok, if you don’t want to rat out your boss, tell me how an American hero turns on the people he vowed to protect. What made you decide to shed so much innocent blood? I understand having a grudge against the government, but why did you target civilians?”

  He continues to stare straight ahead, not answering, and barely even blinking. Grace walks around to stand in front of him again and pulls the chair out to sit down in front of him. She flips through the pages in the folder while sipping her coffee, as if unaffected by him and his silence .

  Michael Byron has been very obstinate in refusing to answer any questions for the past two days. Grace and Robin have been alternating on questioning him individually, and as a team, but he hasn’t opened his mouth to speak even just once. They have spent days studying the information Intelligence found and trying many different tactics and angles to try to get him to break.

  “This is interesting. It shows here that you’ve been giving a large charitable contribution to children’s diabetes research on a monthly basis for the past fourteen months. Before that, your contributions to the same organization were very small – more like what a typical American would be able to afford. Do you know what that tells me?”

  He doesn’t answer, but his brow slightly furrows for a moment, betraying a look of actual emotion, like he’s been caught and also pain. It’s the first visual betrayal they’ve seen, which is a good indicator they may have finally found the right topic to get under his skin.

  “Fourteen months ago, or maybe a little bit before that, you came into some type of agreement with someone with a lot of money. Whoever this person is really must have done a number on your head. So, what was it – were you sitting in a bar drinking away your sorrows and frustrations and a mysterious man or woman walked in with an ear to listen?”

  Michael Byron’s jaw tenses and shifts in his chair as he takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “You see, I’m having a really hard time understanding how someone was able to twist up your head so much. I’ve been reading your file, and all I can see is a great guy doing his country proud. You’ve given the American people fifteen years of service with countless heroic moments. The most notable, in my opinion, would be how fearless you were in speaking up when you were given orders that just didn’t jive with your morals. You always stood up for the weak and innocent. So, what the hell happened to you?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Oh, your voice does still work? That’s great. So, what made you turn from hero to villain? What switch was flipped in your head to get you to go against who you were for fifteen years?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You seem to have multiple malfunctions. Your switch for speech is really screwing up right now.”