Powers (27 page)

“Wait—he
told
you this?”

Her father nodded. “Had no choice, not if he wanted my help. He revealed his secret to a select few, those of us with no … qualms, shall we say, about working with a traitor. He also worked with the Human Front, did you know? Big shock, right, after all the time they were at each other's throats?”

Deena started to respond but realized that Waldo hadn't seen a television in several hours. She feigned surprise. “That's … that's amazing.”

“You're fucking right it is.” He leaned over, speaking conspiratorially. “He basically aided the enemy through Vietnam and then worked against Uncle Sam every chance he got. Now, I met him right when you were finishing high school, around the time the Human Front sank their teeth into Atlanta.”

“The gang war, correct?”

His lips thinned, and he shook his head. “Baby, there was no gang war. The Soldier put that together and hired some of us to play along.”

“How do you mean?” She folded her arms, raising a foot onto the railing of the bed. “You started the gang war?”

“Atlanta was an up-and-coming criminal destination, see. Close enough to Miami and Mexico, far enough away to steer clear of thriving cartels. Crane, several others wanted to turn Georgia into a launchpad for drugs, chemical weapons, and the like. The feds caught wind and installed Monroe, pairing him up with the APHD and me.”

“This was before Aaron was a detective.”

Waldo nodded. “Before he was even a cop. Monroe, understanding that graft and corruption had infiltrated the city, chose to create an opportunity in which he would not only set his enemies against one another—some to jail, others to the morgue—but also use the chaos to cover up a series of murders—”

A light turned on in the back of Deena's brain. “The gang war was orchestrated to hide the Liberty killings, in which Monroe bumped off everyone who knew his secrets.”

“Exactly. The Rammlers, Blitzkrieg, several others—men and women who knew that Monroe was a secret traitor to his ‘people.' He had Owens, me, some others release a number of convicted felons in exchange for them icing those in the know.”

“But now
they
knew. Quince, the Rammlers. Why didn't they squeal?”

Waldo settled back, spreading his hands. “He threatened most of them, like Quince. The weak ones, convincing them they'd be excommunicated from Crane's flock. The rest? He killed them, of course.”

“That's why there were two Liberty killers. He did his victims differently from Quince, you, and the others. But that doesn't answer who killed Monroe. Who is the
new
Liberty, the one who tried to poison you?”

He cocked his head and softened his expression. “Deena … you know.”

No. No, fuck him
. “You think Aaron did it.”

“You were always the better detective. You knew how to uncover secrets, like finding hidden Christmas presents.”

She rolled her eyes and tapped her heel. “All the secrets but the important ones, apparently.”

“Look,” he answered quietly. “I don't have proof that Aaron is the new Liberty … but he
did
know that Monroe was the original.”

She felt light, buzzing and bubbly, as if she'd mainlined ginger ale. Waldo's words rolled around in her skull, and she leaned forward. “What are you saying?”

“Deena … you think I cared about what was happening between the two of you? I was high, sleeping with half a dozen of your mom's friends. I couldn't care less what you did. But still, I gave the two of you a hard time. Why?”

“Because I was your daughter. You were protecting me.”

He gave her a pointed look. “Does that sound like me?”

“What, then? Why the fuck?”

Waldo stroked his beard. His eyes, half-lidded, were barely focused. But still he went on, opening the floodgates for the first time in her life. “Because Aaron knew. He knew the truth and didn't
do
anything about it. The criminals I put back on the street? Aaron's father—the judge—he'd put them away. His rulings, his judgments, toss 'em in a cell and throw away the key. And here I was, flaunting my authority and recovering that key. I released men and women the judge had jailed in order to catch or kill the ones he hadn't. As an added bonus, I set them after the only people who could finger Monroe, expose his secrets. And all the rest were intimidated, blackmailed, or hobbled.”

“And Aaron knew.”

“He felt violated at first, sure, threatening to turn me—us—in and put an end to it. But when Monroe spoke to him … I don't know, the man had some kind of special connection with the Bouchers … and when he convinced Aaron that our actions were in service of cleaning up the judge's spotty conviction rate and putting away those who'd slipped through the cracks, well…”

“Wait, wait,
wait
. Hang on. You mean to tell me that Aaron looked the other way in order to tidy up his father's
record
?”

“At first. But then we paid him, like we did the crooks. He worked the Liberty cases to cover his own ass, to make sure nobody knew that he was involved. It removed suspicion. And we kept the judge's record on the bench intact.”

“I don't believe you. That … no. Just no fucking way.” Her heart hurt. If she'd felt betrayed by Aaron before, now she felt devastated.
That prick. That exceptional, lying, scumbag prick. He lied to me—and I slept with him. And the entire time, he was plotting to kill my father. Even back then, he was lying to me as we rolled around and fucked.

“Believe me, Deen.” Waldo sat forward again, and she stood up, pacing the tiny antechamber. “At first, everything was fine. Aaron played the good cop; I played the asshole. But then he started hating himself for sacrificing his principles to protect the judge, and things got ugly. He became … distant. You remember that Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, stunned and silent, both brain and heart in turmoil.

“That speech he gave—that was
real
. That wasn't an act, and I knew it. Wasn't long after that Aaron learned the Soldier's secret for himself.”

Recollections of the last twenty-four hours swam inside Deena's mind, snippets of conversation and what she now knew to be a carefully constructed fabrication. Aaron had known Monroe was a traitor. He knew about the Rammlers and about Quince, their connections to the original murder.
And he'd played stupid, letting me swan about trying to fit slot A into tab X. That motherfucker,
she thought, seething with rage.

“Eventually,” Waldo concluded, “he told Ken what was happening. That's why they moved, I'm sorry to say. The judge agreed to keep quiet as long as the killing stopped. As long as we submitted to an internal investigation and Aaron moved away. We agreed, and the judge forked over a handsome sum—which is how I kept the house and stayed out of jail. Course, that didn't stop the Liberty killings—we had to toss out a few more once they were gone, just to throw off any suspicion that might have drifted their way. And also—”

“What about Crane? He must have known … I mean, he was in charge of the Human Front the whole time. He must have been involved.”

Waldo frowned and shook his head. “I dunno about that. Monroe never discussed Crane … who, by the way, was the only member of the Front to
refuse
our offer.”

“How do you mean, ‘refuse'?” She paced, striding from one end of the curtain to the other, jarring and fluttering it in her wake.

Her father shrugged. “He was the only one who didn't take the deal. Stayed in prison until after the trials, until after the FBI and the Soldier moved out of town.”

“Why do you think he did that?”

“Search me. He and Monroe … there was something going on there that even Aaron and I didn't understand. You should ask him. He'll corroborate this entire story—that is, if he's willing to admit that Monroe was his pal instead of a lifelong enemy.”

She smiled. “You'd be surprised.”

“Anyway, that's what I know. I should have told you sooner. I wanted to tell you years ago, but you were so blinded by love that you never would have believed me.”

“What makes you think I believe you now? I'm supposed to take
your
word, a man who's lied to me my entire life? I'm supposed to swallow the fact that you were secret besties with the guy I was dating, the guy you hated, the guy you claimed ruined your life?”

“Aaron only ruined my life inasmuch as he blabbed. The perks, the cash, everything else … once the judge threatened to expose Monroe and me, the entire house of cards came crashing down. Which was ironic, because—”

Deena stopped pacing. “Because you kicked me out and told me to go to him.”

“Well, yeah. I kinda hoped he'd take you away from all this, to be honest. Where you could be safe and sheltered from the things I'd done. From the shameful things I'd done.”

“Well, look how that turned out. I'd say
safe
is the only thing I
haven't
been since storming out the front door all those years ago.”

He looked up, eyes wide and glazed. “What do you mean?”

Deena glared at the hangdog expression upon Waldo's face. He looked exhausted, spent. She wanted to kill him.
Everything I knew was a lie. Even my half-assed college romance. My hatred for my father, that was a lie too because I should have been angry at him for something
completely
different. For keeping Aaron's secrets from me, as well.

Her phone rang, breaking the silence. Deena reached over and dug it out to check the caller ID.
Motherfucking Walker. Finally—right at the worst possible time
. Annoyed, she let it go to voice mail and stowed the cell phone deep into her jacket pocket.

“Did you know that I had powers, Dad?”

He laughed in response—a short, brittle bark. “
You
had powers? When? H-how did that happen … I mean, your mother and I…”

Deena sat back down. “You were terrible together. Because of that, I had to depend on myself for support—you and Mom, you were too busy tearing into each other to care about raising me, so I raised myself. It made me cocky, reckless. Like I knew the only thing that could hurt or help me was
me
.”

“Yeah, but
powers
? Where did you—”

“Took a reckless risk on a case. Ended up infected with a virus, gave me powers for a while. Turned me into the infection itself.”

Waldo rubbed his mouth. “Jesus.”

She laughed. “Yeah. And that was one of the easier cases. That thing in Chicago? Coupla years back? That was me. My partner and me.”

“What … what the fuck, Deena. Why didn't you tell me?”

Deena smirked and stuck her heel back up on the railing. “Like father, like daughter. You have your secrets, I have mine.”

“I have more than you know. I wanted to tell you years ago but didn't think you'd be able to handle it. But tell me more about you first. I want to know about your friends, your job—”

“You don't want to know about my job. You're wasting time.”

“I do.… That sort of thing. Anything. Everything.”

“Tell me first. Tell me what I need to know to put Liberty away.”

“I told you: Liberty's dead.”

She frowned. “I don't believe that.”

“Ask Boucher and Crane. Liberty
was
the Soldier. The killings, the murders—it was him. That's why there wasn't a tag at his apartment, at the crime scene, right?”

“Yet four people died at Liberty's hands
after
Monroe's death. Explain that.”

“That isn't my job.”

“No,
your
job was to take bribes from crooked Powers and a handful of zealots. To lie to your daughter and cheat on your wife. To kill a bunch of people for terrible reasons and perpetrate massive fraud.”

She stood up and loomed over his bed. “
Your
job was to be a shitty role model and even shittier father. Am I right,
Dad
?”

Waldo toyed with his thumbs. “What do you want me to say, Deena? What can I say that I haven't said before? I'm
sorry
. Is that it? Is that what you want me to say? Because I am. Sorrier than you'll ever know.”

She gawked at him, looking down on the pathetic figure he'd become. Ruined financially, matrimonially—career in the toilet and facing a minimum of twenty years in prison for his many horrible crimes. She
could
go easy on him. She
could
yell at him a whole lot more. Time was running out, and Deena was forced to choose whom to believe: her former lover, a man who might or might not be a secret killer at worst, a conspiratorial accessory at best; Crane, a militant power-hater who wanted nothing more than to defame America's greatest hero before he made it to the grave; or her father, a scumbag cop on the take who'd been awful to his wife and had lied to his daughter since the day she'd learned to say his name.

Which of them was telling the truth? Which of them had the most to gain or lose? She felt tired, nearly dead on her feet.
This isn't fair. I wanted to recuse myself. I wanted to walk away.

She flashed back nearly twenty-four hours, to a different hospital bed in another city. Deena had been jumped and beaten, Walker by her side.

She whirled, hand on the door. “I can do my job.Why don't you do yours?”

Walker folded his arms. “You
know
why.”

She wiped her brow and sighed. “Know what, dude? I really don't. I can't keep up with the rising tide of your bullshit. At least Aaron doesn't give me passive-aggressive three-word answers. You left, man. You picked your ass up and headed home. And what, that's
okay
now?
That's
how you deal with horrible shit when the chips are down? Since
when
has that been
us
?”