Detective Brandon Gaines Neo Nazis trial

  Detective Brandon Gaines death threats

  With my heart in my throat, I did an image search.

  And holy shit. Yeah. There he was.

  Someone had caught a glimpse of him surrounded by U.S. Marshals on the way down a hallway in the courthouse, dressed in a suit with his eyes down and his expression serious. There were sketches of him on the witness stand. Another photo showed him leaving the courthouse, a somber, exhausted version of himself with slumped shoulders and distant eyes.

  One headline made my stomach flip, and the article didn’t help.

  * * *

  KEY PLAYER IN MILITIA TRIAL DIES BY SUICIDE

  Decorated Detective, Surviving Partner in Homicide Duo at Core of Right-Wing Militia Investigation, Dead at 34

  VALECROFT – Detective Brandon Gaines, 34, was killed last night after parking his vehicle on a railroad crossing just north of the Valecroft city limits. There were no other reported injuries or fatalities.

  Gaines was a key investigator and star witness in several high-profile cases involving the Brotherhood of Indiana, an extremist militia group with ties to white supremacist organizations. The militia was allegedly connected to several state and local level corruption scandals, over a dozen unsolved murders, and at least four acts of domestic terrorism. The Brotherhood had frustrated investigators for years due to what appeared to be a mix of extraordinary luck and unprecedented police incompetence. In one instance, a key piece of evidence was deemed inadmissible due to a compromised chain of custody. In another, a search warrant was found to have an error in the address, rendering the results of that search inadmissible.

  It was Gaines and his partner, Detective Rhys Conway, 51, who discovered the link between the Brotherhood and members of the Valecroft Police Department. According to the detectives, numerous individuals within the Department were allegedly not only protecting the Brotherhood, but were active members themselves.

  Detective Conway was killed in a one-car accident two weeks ago, one month before he was due to testify.

  Speculation began immediately that Conway’s death was suspicious. In light of the circumstances and timing, police have been pressured to investigate Gaines’s death as a possible homicide as well. However, such an investigation is unlikely to conclude that Gaines was murdered; the detective allegedly left behind an emotional video suicide note on his social media, and two eyewitnesses saw him drive his vehicle onto the tracks, park, and shut off the engine.

  * * *

  The article went on, but I thumbed away from it and kept searching for more recent information. Something to make this all make sense and line it up with the man he’d been and the life he’d been living, if that was possible.

  Before long, I found another article, this one more recent.

  * * *

  BACK FROM THE DEAD: Homicide Detective Emerges from Witness Protection after Five Years, Delivers Likely Killing Blow to Right-Wing Militia

  VALECROFT – In a Hollywood twist, the lengthy trial of Brotherhood of Indiana leaders, including top Valecroft police officials, took a shocking turn when a key witness seemingly rose from the dead.

  Jurors and reporters were stunned to learn that former Valecroft Homicide Detective Brandon Gaines would be testifying on Wednesday. Gaines, now 39, reportedly died by suicide five years ago, but it was recently revealed that he had gone into the U.S. Marshals Federal Witness Protection Program.

  Prior to his “death,” Gaines had testified under oath in a closed, recorded hearing with members of both the defense and prosecution present. Jurors heard this testimony earlier in the trial, and in previous trials for lower-ranking Brotherhood members. As new evidence and developments have come to light in the years since the recording was made, Gaines’s new testimony—this time live in the courtroom—proved valuable to the prosecution and crippling to the defense. Gaines was on the stand for most of Wednesday and part of Thursday; it is not clear if he will be asked to take the stand again.

  According to legal analysts, the detective’s newest testimony is likely the “killing blow” to Brotherhood of Indiana leadership. Most damning—the revelation by Gaines and the U.S. Marshals that the defendants were indisputably tied to three confirmed contracts on the detective’s life as a result of his cooperation with prosecutors.

  Gaines further testified that he was recently removed from his new identity and location after his identity and whereabouts were thought to be compromised.

  “The program has never had a witness’s identity or location compromised,” a spokesperson for the U.S. Marshals told reporters. “And we didn’t intend to start with Detective Gaines. There were concerns, so the detective was moved out of an abundance of caution, which is standard protocol.” The spokesperson went on to say that this prompted Gaines to re-emerge as himself and testify in the courtroom.

  “We advised him to remain in the program for his own safety,” she said, “but he made the choice to reveal himself for the sake of helping to take down these people once and for all.”

  Brotherhood of Indiana defense attorney Charlie Butler believed the detective’s re-emergence was a desperation play on the part of the prosecution, stating: “They knew they were losing. They knew they didn’t have a case. So they dragged him up from the dead. He didn’t say anything earthshaking—the prosecution just painted him for the jury as a resurrected messiah. It’s an absolute farce.”

  In response to this, Prosecutor Erin Lowry said simply, “It speaks volumes when the defense attorney is this angry that the witness his clients paid to assassinate turns out to be alive.”

  The detective’s future location and identity after the trial are unclear.

  Jury deliberations are set to begin tomorrow.

  * * *

  After that, there were articles detailing guilty verdicts and sentencing, most of which had wrapped up about three weeks ago.

  A video showed a dazed and exhausted Brandon outside the courthouse with microphones shoved into his face.

  “What does life after this case look like for you, Detective?” a reporter asked. “Will you be resuming your job in Homicide?”

  The man I knew had an excellent poker face, but it slipped momentarily, revealing a look of both dread and disgust. Then he schooled his expression and shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s next for me, honestly. I’ve got a lot of loose ends here and in—” He pressed his lips together. “I’ve got a lot I need to figure out before I move forward. I’m just glad this case is over and justice has been served.”

  Then he was walking away, reporters shouting questions at his back as he strode toward a waiting car, two large men flanking him. U.S. Marshals, maybe? Private security? Hard to tell.

  But that was definitely Brandon, and I had all the proof I needed—he wasn’t lying. The story he’d brought to my house, it was right there in black and white. Yes, he’d had to lie while he was in witness protection, but that hadn’t been out of malice or an attempt to manipulate me. He’d been trying to stay alive. Plain and simple. I understood how serious witsec was, and how critical it was not to breathe a word to anyone about anything. If I’d had a militia like that out for my head, I’d have gone into hiding, too.

  Being angry at him wasn’t fair. And really, I didn’t think I was angry at him, or even at myself for not seeing through the lies. It was just shitty from top to bottom, and it meant that regardless of good intentions, I didn’t know him. I couldn’t get around that and jump right in where we’d left off.

  There was also the part where, quite frankly, I was scared. I knew how dangerous white supremacist groups could be, and how deeply some of them had sunk their claws into law enforcement agencies. Andrew—Brandon—would probably never be safe even if he did stay in witness protection. Out in the open like this, living under his real name again without the U.S. Marshals hovering in the shadows, he was going to be watching his back for the rest of his life.

  Every ounce of self-preservation I had, not to mention police training, told me to get the fuck away from Brandon and stay the fuck away from him.

  But it wasn’t for nothing that I’d been losing sleep and going out of my mind for the past few months. I missed him. The man I was missing didn’t actually exist, but… he kind of did.

  And, I reminded myself, the Brotherhood had crumbled after the trial. Everyone involved was still under heavy surveillance by both local and federal authorities, and those with vendettas were dead or in prison. I didn’t know Brandon well, but I did know enough to be confident that he wasn’t stupid and that he had good instincts, so I didn’t think he was recklessly endangering the two of us. He wouldn’t have made contact with me if he didn’t think it was safe.

  That should tell you something, shouldn’t it? The fact that you trust him enough to believe he wouldn’t do that?

  Yeah. Yeah, it should. And it did.

  I pressed my elbows onto the desk on either side of the keyboard and kneaded my temples. What was I supposed to do now?

  Part of me wanted to stick to my guns from last night. Tell him to take care, close the door behind him, and move on with my life.

  But part of me…

  I closed my eyes and exhaled. I couldn’t help it—I was drawn to him. I was curious about him, and damn it… I really fucking missed him, whoever the hell he was.

  Maybe what I needed was to spend some time with him and figure out who he actually was. If he was a stranger, or if he really was the man I’d fallen in love with. Because even if his name and back story were fake, there had to be some truth to who he’d been, right?

  Or maybe I just couldn’t believe I’d been in so deep with someone who didn’t exist.

  No. That couldn’t be right. There was… There had to be something real there. We hadn’t just been fuck buddies, for God’s sake. We’d been together for three years. We’d talked about getting married. Buying a house. Getting a dog. Kids.

  I’d been angry and hurt that he’d seemingly thrown that all away and ghosted me. But now he was back, which told me that this thing we had—it was real to him. It had to mean something to him if he’d come here and tried to fix things.

  And… it meant something to me.

  No, I didn’t know Brandon Gaines. I did know Andrew Keller, though. I knew what we’d been together, and who he’d been to me. Wasn’t all of that worth a chance? At least trying to see if Brandon could carry Andrew’s torch?

  And would I be able to function and do my fucking job any time soon if I didn’t try to untangle things with him? Today’s call had been calm and benign, but what if I was called out to a more volatile scene in this state of mind?

  Okay. Okay, I had to look this thing in the eye and figure out where we stood with each other. Who he was. Who I was going forward.

  I sat up and rolled my shoulders, staring at one of the articles still on my computer screen. I needed to talk to him sooner than later. And while I wasn’t one for ultimatums, we were doing this on my terms. Brandon could take it or leave it.

  First things first, I picked up my phone off the desk. I stared at Captain Anderson’s contact for a long moment. He was in the building, but I was too much of a coward to look him in the eye right now, so I sent the call. After his secretary transferred me to him, his gruff voice came on the line: “Yes, Officer Byrne?”

  I swallowed, gazing around the deserted bullpen but not looking at anything in particular. “I’ve had something personal come up. I need to take a week off.”

  “A week?” The captain groaned. “Son, I’ve got officers pulling overtime already. We can’t afford—”

  “I know, sir. I’m sorry.” I pressed my elbow into the desk and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent.”

  The long-suffering sigh on the other end made me cringe. Shit. He was going to say no, wasn’t he? Brandon and I would have to work this out in between my shifts and—

  “Listen up, Officer,” Anderson said, sounding exhausted. “I’m only going to let this slide because you’re a good cop who isn’t a regular pain in my ass and usually needs his arm twisted to even take PTO. You owe me, though. You understand me?”

  My heart fluttered. “A hundred percent, Captain. Thank you.”

  He just grunted unhappily. “Can you wrap up your shift?”

  I glanced at the clock. Still four hours to go, which felt like an eternity right now. But I was already asking a hell of a lot, so I said, “Yeah, Captain. I can do that.”

  I did, too. By the skin of my teeth, sure, but I made it. It was four long hours, most of which I spent parked on a curve where people loved to speed, and I passed the bulk of that time scrolling through months and months of old texts with Andrew. I mostly sat there to be a deterrent—people saw me and slowed right down—but I did write a handful of tickets. I may have been on another planet today, but even I had the wherewithal to fill out a citation for someone who thought a speed limit of fifty-five was a mere suggestion.

  “I didn’t see the sign,” the driver protested, looking earnestly in the rearview as if it might offer up some answers. “When did it become fifty-five?”

  I cocked a brow. “You mean when did the speed limit go up from thirty-five to fifty-five? Because that was about ten miles ago.”

  The oh shit look almost made me chuckle. So many people accidentally incriminated themselves here, all but announcing they’d been going seventy-five in a thirty-five instead of just the fifty-five. They usually stopped arguing with me at that point.

  Four hours and half a dozen tickets later, I turned in my gear and headed back out to the parking lot. In the driver seat of my car, I texted Brandon.

  Seth: I need tonight to think. We’ll talk tomorrow.

  By the time I was home, he’d replied.

  Brandon: I’m here as long as you need me to be.

  The message made me wince. Was it fair for me to string him along? Except I really wasn’t stringing him along. He had to know this was a lot. I needed to think, and one more night didn’t seem like too much to ask. If it was, then quite frankly we didn’t have anything to talk about. He could go back to wherever he lived now and I could get back to moving on.

  But he was giving me time. Now I just needed to figure out what to do next.

  Of course, one more night without him didn’t mean one more night to myself. After all, I didn’t live alone, and Marcus’s car was in the driveway of our rental house. A familiar blue Camry was parked on the curb.

  I suppressed a groan. As thrilled as I was for my housemate that he had a new girlfriend, I didn’t relish the idea of sharing the house with him right now. Like any new relationship, they were in the honeymoon phase, and with Marcus and Lisa, that apparently involved seeing how much the wall between our bedrooms could handle being hit by his headboard. And like, I didn’t begrudge people enthusiastic sex lives. I could be a little loud myself, and I’d had a few red-faced morning-after exchanges with housemates.

  But when I said Lisa was a screamer, I meant she was a screamer. Our neighbors had even called the cops a few times, either for noise complaints or because they weren’t sure but thought someone was being beaten up. These days, I’d just get an exasperated call from dispatch or the desk sergeant.

  “Before I send out any units,” they’d say, “can you just confirm if this is another noise complaint or if there’s an actual emergency?”

  I really didn’t have to say much—the wall dividing our bedrooms was pretty thin, and the screaming and headboard pounding came down the line loud and clear.

  “Have a good night,” they’d chuckle. “Maybe try some noise-canceling headphones?”

  Yeah. I wished.

  I laughed to myself as I headed up the walk to the front door. At least Marcus would be less miserable now. He’d been crushed when his ex had cheated on him last year, and he was ecstatic to finally be back in the saddle, as it were.

  I keyed myself into the house, and—yep. Honeymoon phase was in full swing.

  How does she have a voice left after all that?

  Eh, they were having fun. I couldn’t judge. Hell, maybe I’d be doing the same before too much longer, if at a slightly more socially acceptable volume.

  That thought made me sigh. No, I probably wasn’t getting laid any time soon, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to. I mean, I did—I wanted to go back to normal with my boyfriend, including our own wall-banging sex life.

  But we had a lot of things we had to discuss first. And even then, I wasn’t so sure we were going there. In fact, now that I thought about it, my libido was deader than it had been since Andrew had left. I was numb and hollowed out, too confused to think about anything like what my housemate and his girlfriend were vocally doing in the next room.

  I sank onto the edge of my bed and rubbed my eyes. What was I doing? What was I even supposed to do?

  Maybe what Brandon and I needed was some time alone. Away from my housemate and his girlfriend. Away from the crap motel where he was staying. Away from this town.

  And as I sat here, it occurred to me that I had a place available to use, so I grabbed my phone and wrote out another text.

  Seth: Do you mind if I use the cabin for the next few days? Sorry for short notice.

  The response came quickly.

  Dad: Of course. Downstairs fridge isn’t working and TV is out, though.

  Seth: That’s ok. Upstairs fridge is good, right?

  Dad: Yep, it’s fine. Alarm code is 5529.

  I replied with a thumbs-up, and my heart gave a little flutter of… Not excitement, but determination. I was doing something now. Putting things into motion, even if they might turn out to be pointless or disastrous.

  I went ahead and packed a bag, which I left by the door next to my shoes. I hadn’t even broached the subject with Brandon yet, but if he agreed to it, I wanted to be ready to hit the road immediately. Less opportunity to lose my nerve or talk myself out of it.