Unbreakable. Elizabeth Norris
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Agents are taken off cases for one reason: when they’ve become a liability.
Barclay didn’t seem to dislike Ben—once he decided not to shoot him, at least—but he didn’t have any real personal ties to him, either. If Ben did something wrong, Barclay wouldn’t hesitate to do what was needed. It’s the one quality he has that I actually respect.
Which begs the question: Who thinks he would be a liability, and why?
“What about Eric?” I say. Eric Brandt is another IA agent and Barclay’s partner. “You said he was your mentor. He could talk to someone.”
Barclay shakes his head, and when he speaks again his voice is thick. “Eric is dead.”
“Officially, it was an accident,” Barclay says. “He was home alone, taking a shower. He slipped and fell, pulling the shower curtain down with him, and knocked himself out. The shower curtain clogged the drain and he drowned.”
And in case I hadn’t heard the skepticism in his voice or seen it on his face, he adds, “But it wasn’t an accident. Someone murdered him.”
I don’t disagree. It sounds like a scene from one of those bad Final Destination movies—too many coincidences lining up to equal an accidental death. Instead, I get to the point. “Who would do that?”
“I don’t know,” Barclay admits.
I open my mouth to offer my opinion, but then I stop and look at Barclay. He’s looking at me, waiting—expectant even. He obviously has a theory, and he wants to know if I’m going to come up with the same one.
I take a deep breath because I know that if I’m right, I might be about to dive into something huge. “When did it happen?”
“Both Eric and I wrote up our reports as soon as we realized this was human trafficking, not just one missing person,” Barclay answers. “Then we were excused from the case. I fought it. This case was huge for me, a career maker, but Eric told me to lay off the information, that he’d talk to the higher-ups.”
“And he did,” I say. I don’t like where I think this is going.
Barclay nods. “Two days later, Eric was dead and a report he supposedly signed with ‘proof’ against Ben was on the server. The order to find Ben and bring him in was issued.”
“That means …” My heart hammers in my chest, and I can’t say what I think out loud.
But Barclay knows what I mean. “Someone in IA is involved.”
Which would also explain the liability issue—Barclay was taken off the case because someone above him doesn’t actually want it solved.
Because Ben is a convenient scapegoat.
I’m tempted to run upstairs, change my clothes, give Jared a hug and tell him I’ll be back, and bolt through a portal with Barclay—charge off and rescue Ben from these false charges. This is Ben. He saved my life, and I would do anything for him.
This is Ben—and I love him.
Even though I don’t trust Barclay himself, I trust his motives. This is Barclay wanting to do the right thing—get the right guy—and it’s him wanting to do the right thing for his career. Plus he and Eric were partners, and there’s an unwritten rule in law enforcement that says when your partner is killed, you do whatever it takes to nail the guy responsible.
But for me there’s still one very important thing to consider.
“How can I possibly help you?” I ask.
Barclay purses his lips, and I know he must have a well-thought-out reason. He strikes me as a guy who hardly ever asks for help, and I doubt I’m his go-to person. But whatever it is, he’s hesitant to tell me.
“I’m serious,” I add. “Even without IA resources, you’re still way more equipped to handle this alone. At best, I’ll slow you down. At worst, I’ll get in your way.”
He doesn’t say anything—he looks like he’s trying to weigh his words before speaking. Given his ability to offend me pretty easily, I can’t say I blame him.
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” he says finally. “I did that, and you almost shot me.”
“That’s different. We were here.” I shake my head. “How is me traipsing through different worlds with you going to be helpful? Plus, I have my brother to think about and a world to help rebuild.”
He rolls his eyes. “My plan is a little more sophisticated than that, Tenner.”
“So what is it?”
He doesn’t say anything, and that’s when I have my answer. I’m not going to blindly leave my world and put my life in Barclay’s hands, when I can’t think of anything that would actually help me find Ben or prove him innocent. “My answer is no.”
“You can’t say no. I—”
“This isn’t about you,” I say over him.
Barclay stands up and begins pacing around the room in front of me. “This is important. You need to come with me—I can’t find Ben without you.”
“Tell me your plan, and maybe I’ll reconsider.”
He shakes his head.
Stupid prick. “Then get out of my house,” I say as I stand up. I’ve had enough.
I’m halfway to the stairs when Barclay says, “You’re in danger, Tenner.”
I stop and turn to him. His expression is blank, his blue eyes just staring at me, without betraying whatever it is he’s thinking.
I don’t get a chance to ask him why. Because right then, as I’m halfway up the stairs, the front door flies open and Deirdre is there, gun drawn, with about a dozen Marines at her back, screaming at Barclay, telling him to put his hands on his head and get down on the ground.