I Pledge Allegiance...

Chapter One

CID Special Agent Brianna Wilcox sat on a director’s type lawn chair in her shower, letting the water rain gently down on her body. She used her left hand to carefully wash the tender flesh of her right side, which was mostly reddened scar tissue and skin grafts. Her stumps often ached. Occasionally phantom pain would emanate from the end of her leg stump and flash all the way up the right side of her body to the scars on the right side of her neck and into her empty eye socket. She was hoping that would not happen today. She heard a knock at the door. She knew it was her mother. She turned off the shower, grabbed her crutch and hobbled out to find her towel.

Yes, Mom?

Honey, are you all right?

I’m okay, Mom.

Brad is here to pick you up.

Brianna was startled, What time is it, Mom?

8:30.

Oh no, I didn’t realize I was running so late! Tell him to go on without me. I’ll meet him at HQ.

Her mother said okay and left. A minute or so later she came back to the bathroom door. Brad said he has to wait for you. A soldier who recently returned from Afghanistan has apparently murdered his wife, and you and Brad have been assigned the case. Your boss wants you both to go to the scene.

Okay, Mom. Tell him I’ll hurry.

Brianna saw her face in the mirror and noticed a huge bruise on her jaw. She touched it and it was very tender. The day before, she and Brad were investigating an attempted murder for revenge on the base and the suspect punched her in the face, knocking her to the ground in a heap. She rubbed her jaw and couldn’t believe how sore it was. She remembered taking a stronger dose of pain medication than usual. No wonder she slept so late, she thought.

Brad said no problem; he’s working on his laptop. Honey, please, can I help you?

Brianna closed her eye for a moment. She wanted to be able to live her life without any assistance from her mother, but her mother had been at her side helping her since she arrived home from the military hospital in Baden, Germany. She couldn’t have survived without her. Okay, Mom, but I need to wean myself off of your help for both our sakes. Did Brad say where the murderer went?

Her mother entered the bathroom. Even after three years, it still took her breath away to see the damage the explosion did to her daughter’s body. Her left side was undamaged and as beautiful as the day she won the California Orange County Fair beauty contest at age of eighteen. Her right side was mostly stumps and scar tissue. She helped her daughter finish toweling her wet body off very carefully.

Brad said they don’t know where the killer went, her mother told her.

After drying off, Brianna asked, Mom, would you please microwave my eye? I forgot to clean it last night.

Rose took the prosthetic eye into the kitchen and put it in the microwave for three minutes. It was remarkable to her that her daughter could take the eye out or reinsert it in seconds. It was shaped sort of like a huge contact lens and matched her real eye almost perfectly. The eyelids kept it in place and it even followed the other eye.

Brianna worked her way from the bathroom to the bed on her crutch. She had placed her underwear and cammies, as she called her desert-camouflaged battle uniform and cap, on the bed before she showered. She could get her panties, sports bra, and prosthetic arm on without her mother’s help, but when it came time to put on her prosthetic leg, she felt overwhelmed.

Rose handed her the eye on a paper towel. Brianna rinsed it under some cool water and popped it in. Brianna, don’t you think we could look at the newer prosthetic legs and hands? These things are like antiques.

Mom, you know I love the new ones, but they’re all made from silicone, which irritates my burn scars and skin grafts. I would love to have that new arm with the realistic hand instead of this stupid pincher hook, and those new legs are fabulous. I would be able to walk faster than most people who have both legs. It’s too bad, but I have to stick with the ordinary prosthetics made with foam until they come up with something that doesn’t bother my supersensitive skin.

Now comes the hard part, Brianna thought, as she looked at the parts of the prosthetic leg. The system she used was called supra-condylar suspension. First, she had to pull on a prosthetic sock. She had learned to rest the sock on her hook and pull it up with her left hand. Then she had to insert her leg stump into a stiff liner made of Pelite, a foam rubber material. The Pelite liner has wedges on the left and right sides that rest over the condyles of the knee. The pressure caused her stump to ache after a day of walking on it. She hated taking pain meds, but sometimes there was nothing else she could do to get through the night. Getting the liner on was impossible for her with only one arm, but her mother could pull it in place quickly and easily. After getting the liner on, she then had to insert the stump and the Pelite liner into the socket of the prosthesis, which attached to the titanium leg with a pin.

Her mother looked at the bruise on the right side of her face, Brianna, I wish you would get into another line of work. CID is too hard on you.

You know I don’t like to hear you talk about giving up my work, Mom. I love it, and it’s basically all I have in life, other than you.

I know, Honey, but look how many times you’ve gotten hurt. You are in pain all the time.

Mom, look at me. I’m never going to have a life. I’m never going to have a boyfriend or a husband, or kids. If it wasn’t for my work and you, I wouldn’t even have a reason to live.

The childbearing parts of your body weren’t damaged, Honey. Your face is as beautiful as ever. Someone will fall in love with you and want to marry you. You have to have kids; otherwise I’ll never have any grandchildren. Don’t be so pessimistic.

Mom! Mom! Look at me. Some of the guys call me HW, which stands for Half-a-woman, and a dozen other names, like Bernie, Toast and on and on.

Why do they call you that? Can’t you stop them? I can’t stand it.

I let it go because I want them to feel comfortable around me. We all make fun of each other. It lightens up the day. I pay them back pretty good. Anyway, all I have is my ability to catch criminals. When the US Army Criminal Investigation Command is finished with me, I’ll come home and you can wait on me hand and foot.

Her mother laughed, That would be fine with me. At least I won’t be wondering if you are going to come home at all.

When Brianna was dressed, her cammies and cap covered everything, nearly. Only the hook on her prosthetic arm, the burn scars on the right side of her neck, and the scars around her prosthetic eye showed any sign of the catastrophe she had suffered. As she walked out of the bedroom, she noticed her mother looking at her display of medals she had been awarded. Mom, I’ll see you tonight. I love you.

Her mother hugged her, I love you, too. Don’t forget, this is my bingo day, if you call and I’m not here.

Brianna walked as briskly as she could into the living room where Special Agent Brad Parker was working on his laptop. He had logged in on his office computer at CID headquarters at Fort Mojave, California and was researching the soldier suspected of murdering is wife.

What’s up, Dog? she asked.

Brad laughed. He loved hearing her talk like that. Same old, same old. Another soldier who was protecting America from terrorists has been busy terrorizing his wife. Brad stood up and hugged Brianna’s mother. Goodbye Rose. I hope you win today at Bingo.

Me too, Rose said. Try and keep Brianna from getting hurt, today, okay?

Rose, you know no one can tell your daughter what to do, right?

Right, Brad. No one knows that better than me, except for you, maybe.

They laughed while Brianna scowled at them.

As Brad and Brianna walked to the Humvee, Brad noticed the large bruise across the right side of Brianna’s face. Wow, that guy got you good yesterday.

Yeah, thanks to you for ducking out of the way so quick. I think I’m going to change your name to Lightning.

Brad looked up at Brianna who towered over him, Better you than me, Bernie. You know how much I hate to get hit.

Well, I don’t like to get hit either. I can’t believe that bastard punched me. All I did was ask him where he was at noon the day before.

I think he thought you said he was never going to get another nooner.’

Brianna shook her head, Brad, you can be such a jerk, sometimes.

That’s what you like about me, I know. But that guy sure didn’t like me. Can you believe that he filed a claim that I gave him the Rodney King treatment?

Well, Brad, you should have seen the look on his face when you gave him that Maglite Shampoo. How come you had the flashlight with you? It was daytime.

My Taser battery was low, so I just grabbed the flashlight out of the toolbox. Good thing, too. He was one angry dude.

Brianna nodded, Yeah, he clobbered me, and when you whacked him in the head with that flashlight, he yelled he was getting the Rodney King treatment. Here I am, sprawled across the floor, my prosthetic arm hanging from the strap, my eye on the floor, and he thinks he got the Rodney King treatment! I wish you would have shoved that flashlight down his throat.

Wish I had thought of it. Then I could have called him Deep Throat, like the movie.

We weren’t even born when that movie was made.

True, Brianna. But classics last forever. You know that.

Only someone like you would think that movie was a classic. Now, are we going to the murder scene, or what?

The Old Man sent me a text message. He wants us to come back to HQ.

What? I want to go to the scene. Why does he want us at HQ?

Didn’t say.

How are we going to catch this guy if we’re hanging out at HQ?

Won’t matter. The guy’s toast anyway, now that we’re on the job. Ha ha, get it? Toast?

Brianna looked at him, Of course I get it, Mighty-Mite.

They walked into the ultra-modern Army building housing the headquarters of the Criminal Investigation Command. The operations room was crowded and busy. So many cases came into the office each day that everyone was working an intense schedule. Fort Mojave was named after the site of a historic California Mojave Desert Army fort. It is a relatively new Army base to aid in training troops in desert warfare in the same general area of the Mojave Desert as Fort Irwin. The Fort Mojave CID investigates felonies committed at several other military facilities in the desert areas of California and Nevada, including some international investigations.

Brianna was surprised to see the Old Man talking to CID Group Commander Colonel Shaquila Washington. They didn’t see her too often. She was the highest decorated black female soldier in the Army’s history and a personal friend of the President. Brad and Brianna walked towards them. They stopped talking and the Old Man motioned to them to join them in his office.

Shaquila walked over to Brianna and examined the bruise on her face. "Did you get medical attention for that?

No, Colonel Washington. It’s nothing. I got punched. That’s all.

You’ve been hurt three times in the past four months. You were hospitalized twice.

I know. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I was hospitalized because I got knocked out of my prosthetics and the paramedics didn’t know what to do. Yesterday I just got knocked to the floor. My arm came off and my eye popped out, but I was back in action in just a few minutes.

You got more than knocked out of your prosthetics those other times. You got knocked unconscious, twice. I know you were back to work the next day, just like you’re back to work today, bruises and all, Agent Wilcox. You can handle anything. But there comes a time when even Superwoman has to cut back and rest.

I don’t want to cut back, Colonel. Please don’t make me. I love my job.

Colonel Washington looked over at the Old Man, Senior Supervisory Special Agent Warren Clark, a black man who is a 44 year old veteran of both Iraq wars, and a gifted investigator and manager.

We want you to take it easy for a few days. We’re sending you on an assignment that will seem like a vacation, he said.

Please, Boss, let Brad and me find this soldier that murdered his wife. We’ll have him in custody in nothing flat. He needs to be caught before he kills someone else. You know he’ll be looking for his wife’s boyfriend.

We’ve got fifty-seven investigators in this office we can put on him. In fact, we’ve got five of them looking for him right now. No, we’ve got an easy one for you and Brad that will be like a vacation, and it wouldn’t hurt for you two to take some time off. It will be a combination business and pleasure trip.

What is it about, Brad asked.

The Old Man pointed to a chair and Brianna slowly sat down. We want you to check out a guy over on the coast, in a little city called Mission Cove. Ever heard of it?

Sure, Brianna said. My folks used to take me there when I was a kid. My Mom and Dad loved to go deep-sea fishing there. What did the guy do?

Well, let’s just say he is messing with the wrong people and in the course of things their investigators have discovered that he is listed as a POW/MIA from the Vietnam War, but apparently he’s been in the US since 1972 or ‘73. Check it out and see if he’s a deserter that has been flying under the radar all this time, or if the Army just screwed up the paper work one more time.

Brad nodded, Sounds interesting. How do I log into the info you have?

Just go to the file with his name, the Old Man said. Richard James Janzen, with a ‘z’.

Brianna, I want you to take it easy for a while, Colonel Washington said. We’ve made arrangements for the two of you to stay in a really nice motel overlooking the water. Separate rooms, of course.

Brianna was suddenly nervous. She had not been alone overnight since she was injured and neither had her mother. How would she get her leg on?

What? Shaquila asked, as she realized Brianna was concerned.

It’s just that I haven’t left my mother alone since I got back from the hospital in Baden.

You can take your mother with you, Shaquila said. If Janzen needs to be arrested, we can have the Sheriff do it.

Brianna looked at Shaquila, Thank you so much, Colonel. I’ll let you know if she wants to go. She felt a wave of relief in one way, but also felt that maybe it was time for her to strike out on her own. She would think about taking her mother, but, all she had to do was figure out how to get her prosthetic leg on by herself and she would be free.

At that moment, the base commander, General Jefferies, and some of his staff entered the office. They walked past Brad and Brianna without even giving them a glance. He discussed the upcoming desert war games with Supervisor Clark and Colonel Washington. Afterwards, Colonel Washington informed the General that Special Agents Parker and Wilcox would be going to Mission Cove to interview Janzen.

Great, Jefferies said, Deserters like that bastard need to be put away as soon as possible. Jefferies started walking away without any kind of remark indicating he was leaving. As he approached the door, a new agent, Sergeant Corinne Maxwell was walking in. She was taller that the average woman and her facial features were somewhere between homely and pretty, depending on the light. Her figure, however, was eye-catching, and it caught General Jefferies’ eyes. You’re new here, he said.

Yes, I’m Agent Maxwell, General.

It is so nice to meet you, Agent Maxwell. You’re really quite attractive. It’s so nice to see an agent wearing a blouse and skirt instead of a combat uniform. I couldn’t help but notice you are a double D girl, Agent Maxwell. Are you aware of the rules around here for double D girls?

Agent Maxwell seemed frozen in place. She did not respond.

The rule is; you are to come by my office when you get off work tonight so I can make sure they’re real. I’ll see you around five, Agent Maxwell. General Jefferies laughed and headed for the exit with his staff.

Agent Maxwell looked around the office. All the women were watching Jefferies leave with disgust on their faces. All of them except for Agent Brianna Wilcox. She was facing General Jefferies’ back as he left. Her one hand was scrunched against her forehead with her middle finger extended. Maxwell burst out laughing when she saw Brianna. Soon everyone was laughing with her. When Maxwell caught her breath, she said, What a sexist bastard! I can’t believe he said that.

Colonel Shaquila Washington shook her head, I can’t believe one of our commanders can say something like that and get away with it.

It’s because he’s a war hero, Clark said. No one has the guts to take him on.

Colonel Washington shook her head, You’re right. I’ve been telling the President forever and nothing has happened yet.

Chapter Two

The rugged, barren desert around Fort Mojave soon gave way to the more typical Mojave Desert terrain as Brad and Brianna drove towards Mission Cove. It was spring and there had been enough rain for the desert to literally bloom. Suddenly a large swarm of small yellow butterflies practically blotted out the sun as they crossed the freeway. The windshield was instantly covered with their little smashed bodies.

I’ve never seen this many butterflies. It’s like a yellow cloud, Brianna said. Look at them hit the windshield. It takes guts to do that. She looked over at Brad, My father used to say that when he took the family on a trip and a bug would hit the windshield. Can you even see the road?

Brad laughed. My Dad used to say the same thing. I have to say; I’ve never seen this many butterflies in one place in the desert. Conditions have to be just right for this to happen, Brad replied. I can tell you all about them…

I know you can, Brad. There’s nothing you don’t know, except where the soldier is that murdered his wife, and how you’re going to clean off this windshield here in the middle of nowhere.

You never give up on anything. The Old Man said this was a vacation. As far as the windshield goes, I brought some windshield cleaner and a roll of paper towels. There’s a rest stop a few miles ahead, we’ll stop there and take care of it, along with some other things.

Good, I’m tired of sitting. Hey Brad, call in and find out what’s going on with the killer.

I’m driving. You call.

No way. The Old Man told me to go on vacation. He’ll get mad if I call. You call.

I’m on vacation, too, Brad replied. Did you forget? Just use the laptop. It’s logged in. You can look it up.

You know I have a hard time using a laptop with one hand without a desk. When you pull over at the rest stop you can check it. Brianna was irritated that it was hard for her to use the laptop with one arm unless it was on a stable fixture. Maybe she should look into getting one of the new arms that had a realistic hand, she thought. There must be some way to keep the silicone from irritating her skin.

Brad called in and left the phone on speaker. No new news. Agents had every house of every family member across the State staked out and were just waiting for him to show up at one of them.

Okay, then, tell me about the guy we’re going to check out in Mission Cove, Brianna asked.

Richard James Janzen. He was drafted out of high school and in his first month in Vietnam, his unit was taken on patrol. The unit was ambushed and most of the soldiers were killed. Five are listed as POW/MIA, including Janzen. Somehow he ended up back in the States without any contact with the Army, or so it seems. He never changed his name. He just took up life the way he left it. Nobody ever realized he was listed as POW/MIA until recently. Apparently, even though he isn’t an attorney, he has filed his third class action lawsuit against Senator Hawkins and one of the richest men on earth, Aaden Barrington, a South African born mining mogul who became an American citizen.

Brad continued, In addition to owning a large number of companies across Africa that produce gems and minerals, Barrington has a major stake in oil companies across the world. Some years ago, he bought a failed satellite system and converted it into a successful media transmitting system. That allowed him to branch out into the media world. He doesn’t have a major network yet, but he’s working on it. He’s been buying independent television stations across the United States and Europe and he is syndicating more and more programs to the major networks. It was Barrington’s investigators that discovered Janzen was on the POW/MIA roster.

Why is he suing them?

Janzen claims Senator Hawkins authored the Hawkins Bill. He says the bill would have stopped subprime lending in time to have prevented all the foreclosures that are going on now. He accused Barrington of somehow convincing Hawkins to vote against his own bill and to turn enough party members against it to kill it so that Barrington could make billions at the expense of homeowners. He is still making billions, according to Janzen.

So, he lost the two other suits?

Yeah, not enough evidence.

I wonder what attorney would take on a case like that three times.

Brad nodded, Yeah, well, this will surprise you; he employs a whole team of attorneys, but his favorite attorney is his daughter. Word is she’s a real nut job.

Really?

Yep. I guess she walks around the courtroom with her hands over her face making weird noises.

Is it an act?

No, they say she’s got something, some kind of neurological disorder that has some characteristics of autism or Aspergers with a touch of Tourettes. No one seems to really know what it is. They can’t stop her from being his courtroom attorney because of the American Disabilities Act.

I wonder why Janzen uses her?

Well, from what I have found out, she’s never lost a case other than the ones against Hawkins and Barrington. I was talking to a JAG attorney that saw her in action and he said she’s a savant. In addition to her bizarre behavior, she has a photographic memory and a way of pulling information out of a witness that he had never seen before. Not only that, but before the trial is over, the jury usually ends up loving her. He said the banks fear her so much when Janzen sues them to stop a foreclosure that they usually just settle without going to trial.

I can’t wait to meet this girl, Brianna said.

They looked down on Bakersfield as the highway dropped down out of the Tehachapi Mountains. The sky went from blue to a light brown haze from the smog and dust as they entered the San Joaquin Valley. Once out of Bakersfield, they followed Highway 41 to the coast. The sky was blue again, the hills were green and wildflowers were everywhere. Brianna rolled down her window of the Black GMC Yukon and enjoyed the fresh smell of spring. When they entered the coastal zone, the temperature dropped. Brianna felt a wave of excitement when she saw the ocean. She had wonderful memories of coming to the beach with her Mom and Dad when she was little. I can’t wait to feel some sand between my toes, she told Brad.

I can’t wait to see you in a bikini, he replied.

She gave him a look of disgust. That will never happen in your lifetime.

Brad turned off of Highway 41 and onto Highway 1 and headed south to the small coastal city of Mission Cove. When he turned off the freeway and entered Mission Cove Boulevard, Brianna could see the Cove and the breakers crashing on the sand dunes that formed a barrier between the ocean and the cove. I wonder why it’s called ‘Mission Cove’? she asked.

I was checking out the history. There’s a Spanish Mission in the nearby city of San Angelo, which was built in 1776. Ships from Spain used to anchor at Mission Cove to unload merchandise needed by the Mission. It was also used during Prohibition by rumrunners.

Brad drove past the service stations, banks, police station, real estate offices and restaurants and then turned into a large parking lot in front of an old house.

This house is around 120 years old, he told her. Our deserter restored it and uses it as offices for him and his team of attorneys. It was purchased in 1917 by an Italian Swiss family that came here in the 1880s and started up a dairy. They bought the entire block with this old house on it for $2,500. Their descendants still live in the area and still own the property. They lease it out.

Is there anything you don’t know? Brianna studied the house. It looked a lot like those New England houses Whalers built. The major difference was that it did not have the New England style Widows Walk on part of the roof facing the ocean so wives could watch for their husband’s sailing ships as they waited for them to return to the harbor.

Brad looked for a parking space, but the parking lot was full. He realized he would have to park on the street. Hum, cops are here. I wonder what they want, he said as he looked at the three black and white Dodge Chargers parked against the white picket fence that separated the parking lot from the front yard of the old house. I’ll let you off at the front of the house so you don’t have to walk across this big parking lot, he told her.

She got out at the gate of the white picket fence and waited for Brad. She noticed that the black and whites were not in delineated parking spaces. Brad was walking quickly across the parking lot towards her. She thought about his small but muscular stature and realized he could have been a jockey. He is tough as those jockeys that ride in the Kentucky Derby and he’s smarter than anyone she had ever met, she thought.

Every minute or so, it seemed like, she remembered that this was the first time she was spending the night somewhere without her mother since she had come home wounded. It was a nagging worry as to whether she could get her leg on by herself. It also worried her that her mother was alone.

A vision of Brad coming into her bedroom to help her get her leg on while she was sitting on the edge of the bed dressed only in her underwear made her shiver. She knew one thing for sure; she would never call Brad in to help with the prosthetic, no matter if she had to use her crutch the whole time they were here in Mission Cove. Then she thought about the endless examinations, skin grafts, prosthetic fittings—why was she so modest? Her modesty was out the window when all that was going on. It must be because she works with Brad, she thought, and she knew she would have to live with his endless smart remarks about it.

There really are a lot of people here, Brad said.

Yeah. Let’s go see what they’re up to. I’m interested to see what the cops want. Maybe this will give us some insight into Janzen’s character.

Chapter Three

Brad opened the gate for Brianna. They walked up a handicap ramp along the end of the house leading to a deck overlooking a large stone patio in the back yard. People were sitting on the patio at round wooden tables talking and looking at papers. The deck led to a door that was open and they could see a lot of people inside milling around.

As she and Brad walked inside the large room, Brianna was struck by the beauty of the old polished six-inch wide wood plank floor and the outstanding art hanging on the walls between the old white-framed double-hung windows. She noticed that inexpensive white plastic folding tables ran along the walls with just enough room between them and the walls for staff to walk or sit. It was a startling contrast to see plastic tables in such a beautiful old house.

The people gathered in the room sounded angry. A tall, slender, gray-haired man with a short gray beard stood at one end of the room behind a white plastic fold-up table. He looked calm and relaxed, even though a woman was yelling at him. She was dressed like a businesswoman. You’re ruining our town! she said. You’re sticking all these homeless people in your old run down motel overlooking our Embarcadero business district! You’ve got to stop it!

Andrea’s right! A business owner yelled. We depend on tourists and all they see when they turn off the freeway to come into town is a bunch of panhandlers from your motel. They just get back on the freeway and go up the coast and spend their money in Colwyn Village. What are you thinking of?

The only man in the room dressed in a suit said, RJ, we know you own the Cove View motel and can do anything you want. But you have a motel and you aren’t charging any rent for all these homeless families and there are more coming here all the time. No room taxes are being paid and tourists are being driven off. You’re not helping the City!

A very attractive woman that looked around 35 years old was standing next to Janzen. Brianna leaned over to Brad and whispered, Is that the daughter?

I think so. Her name is Caroline. Caroline Janzen. I can’t believe how tall she is. Brunette and beautiful and tall, Brad replied.

She could have been a model, Brianna said.

No kidding, but look at her mannerisms. I’ve never seen anything like that.

Whenever someone would talk loudly, Caroline would cover her face with her hands. Sometimes she would sway back and forth and make odd humming like noises.

The Chief of Police, a sturdy blonde woman dressed in a blue business suit was standing between two police officers. She spoke up, Mr. Janzen, so many homeless people are coming here because of you. They’re spilling out of your motel and living in our creeks. There must be at least fifty of them along Cove Creek where it runs to the ocean from the freeway and a lot of them say they are Vets. All they do is mess up the creek and, just like someone just said, they drive off the tourists. They stand out at the freeway onramps with their signs that say ‘Help a Vet.’ I know most of them really aren’t Vets. This has to stop, RJ!

The crowd yelled its support. You tell him, Chief, someone yelled.

The Chief pointed her finger at him, Well, what do you have to say for yourself? Are you listening to us?

The man she called RJ pointed to a banner hanging on the wall behind him that said in large print ‘Save the Middle Class, Save America!’

Janzen said, The bottom has fallen out for the middle class, Chief. The people staying at Cove View are families whose breadwinners have lost their jobs. We’ve known some of them our whole lives. They were our neighbors until they lost their jobs and houses. Many of them have had their unemployment insurance run out. They have no other place to go except the creeks and ravines.

That’s bullshit! A man yelled, Those people aren’t even from Mission Cove. They’re from all over. They can go live with their relatives.

Janzen smiled, Not everyone has relatives, Nick. Nearly half of them are from Mission Cove or nearby communities. Yes, some are from other areas of the county, but none are from outside the county. Go into San Angelo’s homeless day shelter and look at the families there. They can only stay there during the day. There is no place for them to go at night. Parents with children and babies have no place to go and Social Services would have to split up the families to place the kids.

Janzen continued, Social Services is overwhelmed. They need all the help they can get. We try to help these people to get back up on their feet, get them jobs and put them in rentals that they pay for themselves. They don’t have access to computers, so they can’t look for jobs themselves on Craigslist and other sites.

The Chief spoke up, Your practice of giving out cell phones to the homeless is causing the Police Department problems. Why are you doing that?

The cell phones are indispensable. We have to be able to call or text the homeless when we hear about a job possibility. The line for a job anywhere in this county is a very long line. We try to get any homeless person a job if they can work. To do that, they need to be available for an interview as soon as possible--cleaned up and looking presentable. We’re doing that. We keep a couple of motel rooms clear just for that reason. We want them and the Vets to be at the front of any line for any job possibility.

The Chief bristled, We patrol the creeks and they call each other on your cell phones to warn that we’re coming!

Caroline put her hands down from her face and in a semi-monotone said, They also report crimes.

Yes, Janzen said, What about that woman coming out of the Sand Dollar Motel Thursday night? A recently paroled rapist from the San Angelo State Prison, fifteen miles south of here, accosted her. He wasn’t homeless. One of the homeless Vets used his cell phone to call 911 and your officers were able to catch the guy while he was raping her in her own car. Most of these people we’re helping used to be productive citizens. It isn’t their fault there aren’t any jobs for them. Go talk to them. They are architects, construction people, families who lost their homes to foreclosure because of the housing crisis our government helped cause. We’re just trying to help them get back to the middle class. As the economy comes back, the number of homeless families and Vets will significantly decline.

The Chief turned to one of the officers, Did you know one of the homeless Vets called in that rape?

He shrugged. No. I’ll call the Commander and verify. He placed the call. Moments later, "Yes, Commander Davis said that the dispatcher told him that was the case, Chief Walker. The Vet’s name is Charles Weaver. He’s the guy that walks around town with a jacket made out of a flag.

She gently shook her head. I know who you’re talking about. I’ll look into this, RJ, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea for the homeless to be given cell phones.

Chief Brenda, if it keeps on causing you problems, I’ll do something about it, Janzen said.

The reporter who was standing next to his cameraman stomped the floor, Chief, we need to get rid of that piece of junk Janzen calls a motel. It is unsafe! There’s no one watching the kids. Most of the tenants are druggies. Make him shut it down!

Janzen spoke, Jimmy, those kids are being watched. We have an army of community volunteers helping out and we don’t allow any drug use there.

I watch those kids play from my house, Janzen, and I never see adults supervising them.

I’ll check it out, Jimmy, but I’m certain you’re wrong, Janzen replied.

Brianna looked at Brad, Wow. Janzen is really controversial.

Brad nodded, Yeah, you want to know something interesting? I was checking on Aaden Barrington and he recently bought the TV station Jimmy works for. I wonder if he is paying Jimmy to give Janzen a bad time.

Brianna was thinking about Brad’s comment as she walked over to one of the magnificent paintings hanging from thin cables suspended from a track that went around the perimeter of the room. Small art gallery spotlights arced off the top of the track above each painting.

The oil painting she was looking at showed a commercial fishing boat coming into the Cove ahead of a storm. She was enamored with it. The painting showed sunlight breaking through the clouds and hitting the boat as a swell broke behind it. It was so incredibly beautiful, she thought. Then she looked at the name of the artist—Caroline Janzen. My God, Brianna thought, she is so talented. She is a savant!

Let’s get back on the subject, the Police Chief said. The more you help the homeless, the more homeless people will come to Mission Cove looking for help. We can’t take care of all of the homeless. Since you started letting the homeless families stay at your motel, the number of homeless along the creek camps has doubled. You have to stop it. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Another thing, the VFW Commander is furious that you say you are helping homeless Vets. He says most of them aren’t Vets, they just pretend to be so they can gain sympathy while they beg for money.

Anything else? Janzen asked.

Chief Brenda Walker said, You know you can’t fight City Hall and win forever, RJ. You better figure out a way to upgrade those buildings and turn it back into a real motel.

With that, Chief Brenda, as most people called her, turned and walked briskly towards the door with her two officers following behind, and then she stopped and turned to face Janzen, I don’t have enough officers to take care of all the problems the homeless are causing.

Janzen responded, The homeless don’t cause nearly as many problems as the tourists. Why are you trying to make it look like they do?

We need the tourists, Jimmy Snow said. We don’t need or want the homeless.

Janzen looked at Snow, You have no heart, Jimmy Snow. You beat me up in every newscast and why? Because I’m doing something to help people and you’re just pissed off because my motel between you and the ocean view from your home. How petty can you be?

I’m not being petty, RJ. I paid for that view and you don’t have any right to destroy it with the old junky cars and all the crap lying around. I have property rights!

That ‘crap’ is the only belongings the homeless have. They don’t have another place to put their stuff. As far as your property rights are concerned, there are no legal rights to an ocean view. When the two story condo project you live in was built, it blocked the ocean views of all the neighbors behind it.

I’m going to burn you in every story every day until you wise up and get rid of those homeless people, Jimmy said with a tone.

Caroline stared hard at Jimmy Snow and then she shrieked a long string of curse words. Then she covered her mouth with her trembling hands. Her statement was said with intense emotion, not in a semi-monotone. The people in the room ignored her outburst. Obviously, they had heard it many times before.

Brad looked at Brianna, Whoa. Looks like she has more than a touch of Tourettes Syndrome. I think they call it Coprolalia, although that syndrome usually occurs when the person swears at inappropriate times. I’m not sure this was an inappropriate time. Maybe her swearing is just part of being a savant.

Brianna had to struggle not to laugh outloud. Yeah. I know what you mean. Look at the expression on the reporter’s face, she said quietly.

As the Chief started leaving the building, she walked towards Brianna and Brad. She noticed them and stopped in front of Brianna. May I ask where you were hurt?

Iraq.

The Chief teared up, My son was killed in Ash Shura one day before his twentieth birthday.

Brianna became emotional. She touched the Chief’s hand with hers, I’m so sorry.

The Chief carefully embraced her, Thank God someone’s daughter came home. She shook Brad’s hand, Thank you both for all that you’ve been through for our Country.

Brianna took the Chief’s hand, My heart is with you.

The officers accompanying the Chief also shook their hands and then left.

Chapter Four

The young woman who stood by Janzen came over to them. Brianna realized her odd gait was the result of her walking without moving her hips very much. Hi, my name is Caroline. Can I help you? she said in a sort of half monotone.

Are you the Caroline that painted these paintings? Brianna asked.

Yes. How may I help you? Foreclosure information is on those tables near the corner. Caroline pointed them out. You can find information there about your options with HAMP or HAFA loan modifications and short sales or foreclosure defense. You can ask any staff member any questions you might have about these options. We need to know your status, how many mortgage payments you’ve missed, and whether or not you’ve attempted to get your loan modified. We also need to know if you have a predator loan, one that has negative amortization. If you have already been foreclosed upon, we need all the information about your loan, any loan modification attempts, name of bank, and other information you will find on that table over there.

Brianna took a breath, even though Caroline spoke in a monotone, her words perfectly conveyed her thoughts. Caroline, I’m Special Agent Brianna Wilcox and this is my partner, Special Agent Brad Parker.

How nice to meet you, Caroline said. Brianna held her left hand out to Caroline, but, instead, Caroline reached over and took Brianna’s prosthetic hook in her hand. You lost your arm.

Brianna nodded. Yes. Among other things.

Caroline’s eyes widened, You lost your eye! You must be in pain all the time.

Pretty much. I don’t think things have been easy for you, either.

Caroline nodded, It isn’t easy being different. I apologize for what I said a few minutes ago. It just comes out of my mouth. I don’t know why.

Brad smiled, Actually, Caroline, we agree with what you said to the reporter.

Caroline laughed, Thank you.

Brad looked over at the reporter, Uh oh, I think he heard us.

Brianna frowned, Damn. So, Caroline, is it true that you are an attorney?

Yes.

And you painted these paintings?

Yes.

You are incredibly talented. Are they for sale?

No. I give them to people I like. I would like to give you one. Take any one of them.

I so much appreciate what you just said, but I can’t accept gifts. We’re here on business.

What kind of business? Caroline asked.

Caroline, we’re from CID, the US Army Criminal Investigation Command. We’re here to speak with your father.

Why isn’t it called CIC?

Brianna looked at her, Brad knows everything. Brad, why isn’t it called CIC instead of CID?

Brad looked at Caroline, The Army Criminal Investigation Command includes MPs and all the police activities on Army bases. CID refers to the part of the investigation command that just investigates felonies. Our real name is US Army Criminal Investigation Division, but everyone refers to us as the Army Criminal Investigation Command.

Caroline looked Brad in the eye and said, Why?

Brad looked at Brianna and shook his head, I don’t know.

Brianna laughed, I can’t believe there’s something you don’t know, Brad.

Caroline said, My Dad always said there was the right way and then there’s the Army way.

Brianna laughed, My Dad said the same thing.

Caroline was still holding onto Brianna’s hook. I’ll go see if I can pry him loose from the multitudes.

Brad looked at Brianna and in a low voice said, Multitudes? Do you see a halo over him?

There are a lot of people crowded around him, Brad. I’m sure that’s all she meant. Boy, she is unique. I bet her childhood was miserable.

Imagine how bad she got teased. I wonder if she cussed like that when she was a kid. Come to think of it, maybe she didn’t get teased all that much. They might have been afraid to tease her, Brad said. Well, I can see why she’s a good trial attorney. Her brain picks out things that aren’t quite right that everyone else misses. CIC. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone ask that question.

Caroline got her father’s attention and brought him over to Brad and Brianna. She introduced them to him, even explaining what CID stood for.

As Brianna shook hands with Janzen, he told her how much her sacrifice was appreciated. What can I do for you, he asked, as he looked at her ID hanging from her neck.

Brianna held it out for him to read. He nodded and thanked her. Could we go someplace private? Brianna asked.

Sure, he said. Come back to my office.

They walked through the kitchen and dining room area and down a long hallway to several old bedrooms being used as offices. Janzen led them into his office and sat down behind a white six-foot plastic table and motioned for Brad and Brianna to sit down in the white plastic folding chairs facing him. Caroline stood next to them. Brianna looked around the room before she sat down. On the other side of the room was another table and several bookshelves full of books. An opened book was lying on the table under a reading light. Brianna walked over and was surprised to see the books were all history books. The opened book was a biography of Benjamin Franklin.

What is this about? Janzen asked.

Well, Brianna said, May I ask you a couple of off-the-subject questions first?

Sure, Janzen said.

Why all the plastic tables instead of old fashioned desks that would go so well with the old house?

Janzen laughed, With the tables, we can set up a huge U-shaped conference area in the main room that will seat around a seventy people. It works out great for what we do here. Now, what can I do for you?

One other off-the-subject question, Mr. Janzen, if you don’t mind. Who is the historian, you or Caroline?

Janzen laughed, Caroline loves history. Those books are hers, but what you can’t see are the books she buys for her Kindle. There must be over a thousand. She reads one or two a day. She loves it.

Caroline laughed, Don’t let him fool you. He loves history also, only he prefers watching the History Channel to reading.

Special Agent Brianna nodded. Great. Thank you. Now, Mr. Janzen, the reason we are here is because it has come to the attention of CID that your name is on the POW/MIA roster of Vietnam Vets.

No! Janzen said. How could that be? There must be more than one Richard Janzen in the US who went to Vietnam.

No doubt there is Brad said, but there is only one Richard James Janzen who was drafted and sent to Vietnam from Mission Cove in 1968. And that Richard James Janzen never returned to the United States, according to Army records. However, here you are. We need an explanation of how that happened.

Look, Brianna said, We don’t want to take anymore of your time than absolutely necessary. Maybe we could clear this up quickly. You did serve in the United States Army, Mr. Janzen. Right?

Janzen nodded. Yes. I was drafted out of High School and was sent to Vietnam.

His daughter seemed shocked, You served in Vietnam, Dad? You’ve never mentioned it.

He looked at her, No reason to. It wasn’t exactly a Senior Trip.

Brianna took notes. How come there is no record of you coming back to the United States?

I don’t know. I was given an honorable discharge.

Brad and Brianna snapped their heads towards Janzen’s face in unison. You were? There’s no record of it, Brad said.

I have my certificate here somewhere. My father wouldn’t let me come home without it. Excuse me; I’ll see if I can find it in my records. I think I have it in the box containing my incorporation papers. Janzen went over to a closet jammed with boxes of files. He pulled out a slender black box with a red lid and brought it back to the desk. He lifted the lid off and sorted through the papers and then pulled out a discharge certificate that had been folded and was quite worn with rust colored stains on it. He studied it a minute and then handed it to Brianna. There’s my name, right where it is supposed to be.

Brianna studied the document and then handed it to Brad. It certainly looks authentic, she said. What are the stains from?

Blood. The stitches in a wound in my hand came loose on my way to see my mother back in the day.

Oh. Brianna said, Caroline, would you please scan it and send it to our work email addresses? We’ll forward it to our boss and then we can get out of your hair.

Brad handed the document to Caroline and she took it into the copy room, scanned it, and programmed the email addresses into the scanner. Within seconds the scan of the discharge certificate was on both of their phones. Brad forwarded it to the Old Man with a message containing Janzen’s statement. With that, they both stood up and thanked Janzen and Caroline for their time.

It was a pleasure meeting you, Janzen said, Why don’t you meet us for dinner? We’re probably going to one of the restaurants down on the Cove. We would love to have your company. Our treat.

Sorry, Brianna said. We appreciate the invitation, but we have a killer to catch.

Brad stared at her in disbelief. We’re supposed to be on vacation, Brianna. The Old Man has five agents looking for the killer. Come on, I don’t want to go home, yet. They said we could take a couple of days off.

Brianna looked at Janzen, Thanks for the invitation. We’ll get back to you. Brad has your phone numbers, right?

Yes, Brad said, as he held up his smart phone.

Where’s the Sailor’s Inn? We’ll be staying there, since we won’t be chasing a killer, she said as she glared at Brad.

Just down the street, Caroline said. I’ll walk out to the parking lot with you and show you.

As they approached the parking lot, Brad was obviously irritated. It’s on the GPS, he said as he stared at Brianna. Bernie.

Good one. Brianna said. JB.

Brad looked at her, JB?

Jockey Boy.

Ouch! Brad said. Okay, then, HW.

Caroline stared at them. What is ‘HW’?

Half-a-woman, Brianna said, giving Brad look of disgust.

Oooo! You two sound like you’re married, Caroline told them.

Really? Brianna asked, That’s what married people sound like?

My ex-husband never called me ‘Half-a-woman,’ but I did call him 'Half-a-dick' once in a while, Caroline said in her monotone like voice. Of course, that was usually just one word in a group of several.

What did he say after you called him that? Brad asked.

Usually he didn’t say anything, he just beat me, she replied. You will not need a GPS. Go down this street all the way to where it dead-ends into a restaurant called Beachcomber Charley’s. The Sailors Inn is right next door to the north. I hope we can see you this evening. Please call me, Caroline said, as she stared into Brianna’s good eye.

Chapter Five

Brad and Brianna got into the Yukon Ummm. ‘Half-a-dick.’ I’m going to have to remember that one, Brianna said.

You better not ever use it on me, Brad said.

Oh? And what are you going to do if I do?

"Simple. I don’t care where we are but when you call me that,