Chrono Inquisitor (Gods Be Damned) (31 page)

“And her decision to use your company had nothing to do with your close relationship?”

“Look, it really only came down to Shepard’s company and my own, so no matter which way you want to interpret things, it was a clash of personal opinion and interest.”

“By your own admission, you seem to be quite familiar with the couple, how would you say their relationship was?”

“They were married for over fifty years, and they were business partners. That takes some major commitment.”

“But it would seem they didn’t always agree though, and like you said, Julius tended to mix his business and his personal lives. That couldn’t have been easy on their marriage.”

“Yeah, they disagreed. And sometimes they fought. But they loved each other. I know you already visited Nora, and I’m sure she put up a mighty fine front, but you didn’t see her earlier. You didn’t see her devastated and dying on the inside. She lost the closest person she had today. So don’t you even dare think of accusing her of being the one responsible for what happened. You think any marriage is easy?”

“Heard fairy tales of some being so. You know, true love, soul mates, those crazy notions.”

“And yet we all know where you stand on love, don’t we?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I leaned forward.

Sam shook her head. “Never mind.”

“No, I want to know.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Is that all?”

“No, that’s not all.” She leaned forward and glared, locking her eyes on to mine. It was as if she’d shot a harpoon into me, because I couldn’t look away. “You’re an apathetic asshole who only gives a shit about people so long as it suits your needs. It’s amazing actually. You have such a great capacity to sympathize and empathize with people. You’re somehow able to get inside someone’s head and figure out why they do what they do better than anyone I know, and yet, when it comes down to it, you simply don’t care. When it comes to your job, you don’t care who you put away. So long as you get a conviction and get paid, you don’t care what happens to them.”

“A line has to be drawn somewhere, Sam. People should know the rules and stick to them. If they don’t follow or know the rules, that’s their fault. It doesn’t mean they get a free pass.” I got to my feet, pulled up by my anger. “Fuck, I wish everywhere was like Texas. They lay it all out for you. They don’t give you an excuse. It sure makes my job easier when I’m here.”

I believed what I said. I just chose to ignore the whole situation with Paxton, and me being held responsible for his fuck-up, even if it was mine as well in a stupid sort of way. I kicked myself for being a hypocrite. At least Sam didn’t seem to know about that issue. Otherwise, she’d be haranguing me for the next century.

Sam got to her feet as well. Even though she was inches shorter than me, she stared me down. “And who gets to draw that line? You? Who gets to decide whose life is more important than someone else’s? It’s the people working in the slums who need baptisms the most, but they can’t afford it. Meanwhile, the people who control the means of saving these peoples’ lives, and who aren’t exposed to the same shit, sit in their offices taking the credits in droves while saying to those who complain or can’t afford it, ‘You should get a different job.’ Like they really have a choice.”

I stepped away from the table and shoved my chair in hard. “I never said that I’d be the one to draw the line. It’s too much responsibility and a damn headache. That’s why I let others choose where the line lies, while I just make sure that those who cross it, get what they deserve.”

The anger I saw in Sam’s face dissipated into disappointment. “How can you understand everyone else, and yet you don’t have a clue about yourself. You cross and redraw the line all the time. Look at the man you have with you. I’ve done a little investigating of my own. He’s a criminal, just like many of your past deputies have been. I know you, Travis. You find people who are involved in criminal activities, people you should be arresting, but instead you give them a second chance. If they do what you ask, you help them out, but do you know what happens to them once you’ve gone onto your next assignment?”

In the past her disappointed parent act would have made me feel like shit. I most likely would have conceded to whatever point she was trying to make. But that was the past, and at the moment I absolutely refused to take a guilt trip.

“Why should I?” I yelled, moving around the table, coming closer to her. “I don’t have time to keep tabs on everyone I cross paths with.”

Sam slammed her chair in and stepped closer to me. “Well maybe you should. Because you know what? I have been keeping tabs, and I’ve crossed paths with some of them. And let me tell you, it’s not that hard to keep an eye on the people of your past. Hell, I’ll give you all their records right now. Everything they’ve done since you came into and departed their lives.”

“So you’ve been spying on me? How’s that been working out for you? Do you like seeing me fuck other people? Because as I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been making up for all those years of being monogamous to you.”

Sam stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face. She was quick and strong, the toughest woman - No, make that the toughest person, I knew. By the time I realized what she was going to do, I wasn’t able to properly block the blow. So I stood still and let her hand make contact. Then regretted it. I’d forgotten how hard she hit.

The slap resonated throughout me. The strike caused remembrance of things long past to stir within. Memories came cascading back to the foreground as if her slap had caused another Mnemosyne misfire. One moment I was feeling the fresh strike across my face, and the next, it was nearly nine years before that, as if all the years since then hadn’t happened.

No thanks to Mnemosyne, I’d been knocked back in time to the last time she’d slapped me. The day she left for good. The day she decided she’d had enough.

We were in our Austin condo, arguing again, which happened more often than not.

“I can’t do it anymore,” Sam said, nearly in tears. “I can’t keep hoping that one day I’ll wake up and you’ll be the man I fell in love with.”

“People evolve,” I said, on the verge of yelling. “Nobody stays the same.”

“You’re right, but people should strive to become better aspects of themselves. Not worse. Your job is poisoning you, Travis. It has been for decades. Remember when you wanted to quit? Remember when you wanted out. I remember it clear as day, and I would even if Mnemosyne hadn’t recorded it.

“You came home from work, heartbroken. As soon as you walked through the door, you fell to your knees and started crying. It was the first time in nearly a decade that I’d seen you overcome by emotion. I remember running towards you. My mind was racing through every possible scenario that could break that emotional barrier of yours. I feared the worst. I remember kneeling down beside you. You grabbed me by the waist and buried your head in my lap and sobbed. I asked what was wrong, but you didn’t answer. You didn’t say a word. You just held me and cried. So I sat there, holding you, thinking of anything I could do to comfort you, but what could I say? I didn’t know what was wrong, and sometimes words just aren’t enough. So I held you and kissed your head.

“We sat there, huddled together, for I don’t know how long. It didn’t matter. At some point you stopped crying. We continued sitting there, holding each other without saying a word. I feel ashamed to say that it felt good. I felt connected to you. Like the rest of the world didn’t matter. Only you and I did.

“Finally you said, ‘I killed a child. A little girl.’ I knew that somehow, in some way, you meant what you said, but not in the way it sounded. I waited for you to say more, but you didn’t. Instead, you got up and went into the shower.

“I called Frank. He didn’t know what you meant either. I checked the news, but there wasn’t anything that gave me a clearer answer to what you meant.

“After your shower you climbed into bed and were instantly asleep. It wasn’t until I was putting your clothes away, getting ready to join you, that I found the letter. The letter from the child’s mother. I read the letter saying you’d denied their daughter some sort of experimental operation, because it was too risky and too expensive. How a few months later she died, and then several months afterwards that same procedure was deemed a viable option. The mom blamed you for her daughter’s death.”

“Elanna Korte,” I mouthed. Sam didn’t hear it, but she knew what I’d said.

I felt a tightness in my chest and throat. Felt a pressure build around my eyes. A solitary tear ran down my cheek.

“Yes,” Sam said. “Elanna Korte. That was her name. You were saying it throughout the night while you slept. Over and over. Elanna Korte, Elanna Korte. I remember you telling me about her case when you’d denied the procedure. How it had torn you up. You didn’t want to, but you said the numbers deemed it too risky. You were just doing your job.”

Guilt. It’s a little dose of poison every day. One of the worst of all human afflictions. It tears away a piece of your soul a little bit at a time. You don’t even notice that it’s happening until it’s too late.

“Elanna Korte,” I mumbled again.

“You still remember her name, which shows me it’s still consuming you,” she said.

I’d said nothing.

She continued.

“Early the next morning after you left for work, I called Frank and explained the situation. When you arrived at the office, he told you to take some time off.

“We rented that cute little bungalow on the beach. We talked about you quitting. You didn’t need to work. We had enough money, and I could afford to support us. You said you might take a sabbatical, or go back to school, try to find something you enjoyed that didn’t destroy your conscience. In the end you decided, and I agreed, that you would resign when we got back.

“You wanted to tell Frank in person. While you went to do that, I made your favorite meal, lit candles, and to top it off, wore your favorite dress. The future looked so bright.

“But you came home with different news. You hadn’t quit. Instead, Frank had sold you on becoming an investigator. Instead of denying claims and the guilt that comes along with that, you’d be going after the ones cheating the system.”

“I know my life,” I said finally, starting to get sick of hearing aloud what I’d heard my conscience drilling at me day in and day out for years on end.

“Which is why you try to drink it away. Why you try to forget. You know what you’ve done wrong, but instead of correcting it, instead of getting to the root of the cause, you slap on a band aid and ignore the problem, thinking it’s just going to go away if you don’t think about it.”

“So…what? Now you’re my therapist. Should I be expecting a bill? I thought time heals all wounds.”

Sam shook her head. “Let me know how true that saying is if you ever lose a limb and decide not to get it treated.” Disappointment adorned her lovely features.

It broke my heart to look at her, knowing I was the cause. So I turned to leave.

“Don’t walk away from me, Travis.” I should have known it was serious when she’d used my first name. “You can’t keep turning your back on your problems.”

I continued to walk towards the bedroom.

“If you don’t try to settle this now, you won’t ever get the chance. If you walk into that room and close the door, like you normally do, I’ll walk out this door and never come back.”

I stopped, ran the possibility of that statement being true, and figured the odds were in my favor. She’d threatened that before and hadn’t left yet. I continued towards the bedroom and as I opened the door, I heard the front door slam. I turned around.

Sam was gone.

I turned back to the bedroom. As I showered, I told myself that she’d be back. Then I convinced myself she would have left even if I had stayed and argued with her, so all I’d done was spare myself that extra bit of heartache. Later, as I fell asleep, I told myself that she’d be by my side when I awoke. She always was after a fight.

I woke up alone.

A week later her sister, Sariah, along with a couple of movers, came to the door to collect the belongings that were unquestionably hers. I’d hoped upon hearing the knock that it was Sam returning, and that she had knocked to surprise me. I tried to talk to her sister while the movers were packing, she only said that if I truly wanted to find out how Sam was doing, I should talk to her myself.

Not realizing then what I’d done wrong, and not knowing how to proceed, I needed to talk to someone.

Even though my father wasn’t the role model of a lasting marriage or relationships, I didn’t know who else to seek assistance from, so, the next day I went to talk to my father.

My dad, Aaron, was living in a transition home waiting to die with others of a similar mindset. After extending his life for thirty years through cellular rejuvenation therapy, he’d decided he was done with it all. When he’d made the decision I’d gone to see him. He told me that while he loved me with all his heart, he just couldn’t go on. I was the only family he had left. I said that even though he didn’t believe in an afterlife, there was still a hint of hope that is was possible, and that he might see again the people whom he’d lost.

I didn’t like visiting my dad. I was unhappy with his decision to say the least. It was essentially a prolonged suicide. It was selfish of him, leaving me alone. I’d lost everyone as well, except Sam, but now I’d lost her as well.