Fred’s way

Opening the car’s police door, Ken rubbed nervously his new wedding ring at his finger to get lucky. While he was scooting to the house, the sights coming from the nearby houses, making sure not to fall on a trap. He noticed how much his behavior evolved since he became a police officer. Before, he had no one to back him up and now, he had someone to care and love, to be worried about too. He was an officer now and he had, no matter what, to fulfill his duty. It was occupational hazard, something he knew fully.

But now he was married and in a few months father for the first time in his life, and this stress was now stronger, more intense. Maybe he should think about being transferred to administrative services ? His wife, the most beautiful spotted hyena in the universe, would certainly be happy. Also a police officer, she knew the risks run by the intervention units.

He would think seriously about it later, because he was now on the side of the door. He looked nervously at his colleague, a thin cougar in whom he trusted, his weapon in his hand, the barrel pointed at the sky to avoid any unwanted shooting and death. He hadn't seen the other two policemen spit out by the second car for a while and who were positioning themselves at the rear entrance to protect themselves from any possible escape. Opposite him, blackened by twilight, the house from which the call had probably been given ten minutes earlier.

« Come at once please… Stewart’s house…We heard gunshots… »

Ken didn’t heard the call himself, he just recognize his friend’s direction when it wrote itself on the screen. He never drove that fast before, his guts torn by his deep fear.

« Open up, Police ! »

The low and powerful voice of the bull remained unanswered. There was light, and therefore probably still presence, even if there was no noise. A nod, and the invasion began. On both sides of the house, after the "go" launched by radio, the doors were opened unceremoniously and it was a slow, repeated, planned police race, who entered each room of the accommodation, quickly inspecting the place carefully, to avoid any risk, the weapon in one hand supported by the other. Nothing in the entrance. The duo progressed, pressing themselves against the wall before pointing the weapon then the rest of the body in the kitchen. Nothing yet. Ken nodded quickly before moving on to the next room. Ken's heart skipped when in the living room he saw the body. A male tiger, stretched out with his back in the ground, his arms spread apart, most of his head carried away by gunfire, probably, the rest of his face bathed in blood, two large holes in the heart making his white shirt a cloth soaked in red.

There was nothing to identify the victim, but Ken was certain to see the remains of his friend Jimmy Stewart. He approached, his hand on his muzzle so as not to burst into sobs before quickly stifling them. His hand triggered the radio on his shoulder.

« Officer down in the living room. Dead on arrival. »

Ken stared at the remains of his friend for a few seconds. An unjust, surprised, precocious death. An omen of his future fate ? It was not the first lifeless body he saw, but the affection he had for his friend and superior changed many things. He knew it was not the same as seeing the body of a stranger as that of a loved one. He understood it the day he sat with his old father.

The noise of the steps of his colleagues brought his mind back to its original function and, the ground floor being empty, followed them up the stairs, still with tears at the edge of his eyes. He was trained for that. He discovered that all theoretical training could never fully prepare him.

When they reached the lit first floor, the four policemen could hear a regular, familiar clicking sound coming from the back bedroom and they did not waste time with the other rooms. Ken did not watched the classic decor of the suburban home. He had come here a few times at the invitation of the dead man for friendly meals, but he never went upstairs. Positioning themselves against the walls to avoid any possible bullet, they slowly opened the door. The clicking sound became more intense, still regular. It was the noise a revolver striker made when he knocked on an empty barrel. The breathing sound of the young woman inside now audible. She was on her knees, her back turned to the entrance, seeming not to pay attention to the police in her dull blue maternity dress. The child's room was a mess. The yellow walls dotted with multicolored flowers, with a predilection for pink.

"It's true," thought Ken. We will have to choose a decoration for the little boy. Or the little girl. "

His wife was entering her sixth month but they had decided to keep the surprise. This had the advantage of having greater joy but it complicated the choice of furnishings and colors. The jostled bed was undone and the sheets almost torn off. Under a blanket, a small immobile body half hidden from where flowed a thick red liquid spread out in a puddle.

Ken could not see the child's face but he recognized Dottie’s clothes, the couple's daughter. Ken closed his eyes for a moment, overcome by a wave of fear. He imagined for a moment his own child lying on the ground forever. He had just caught a glimpse of one of the biggest scares of young parents, and he knew he was going to have to live with it for a long time.

The policemen looked at each other for a moment before entering slowly, the cannons pointed at the kneeling woman, advancing slowly.

" Mrs… "

Ken's voice had no effect. The bull carefully walked around her. She still paid him no attention, focused on the revolver she was holding, the barrel pointed towards her strongly rounded belly, her fingers trying to activate the empty barrels in vain.

"There must be one left ... One, come on ... Why isn't there one left ? "

Ken looked at his colleagues and with a gesture, they lowered their weapons and put back the safety notch.

« Gina… »

The mention of her first name caught her attention. The tigress recognized the police officer, smiled a little to him, dropping the revolver on the ground, with an annoyed gaze after having seen the weapons of the police officers. The cougar moved and the foot pushed the weapon out of reach. For all, much of the stress was no longer needed.

"I think He doesn't want it to end like this. Can I ask you for a favor ? "

The police were too dumbfounded to respond quickly enough. The tigress rubbed her inhabited belly, grimacing, her voice calm and soft while the cougar took out of his leather pocket a pair of handcuffs with a tarnished luster of wear.

« Can you help me get rid of this ? »

Part I : + 8

Quickly looking around, Fred quickly checked that he hadn't forgotten anything. His thin foam mattress was devoid of sheets, he lifted the cover of his canteen one last time at the foot of his bed of metal and stretched fabric before closing it, certain to see it empty. He closed the carabiner of his bag and quickly placed it on his shoulder, turning one last time to look at the room now empty except for the eight full-size beds. Last occupant to leave, he closed the wooden door and advanced on the packed hot sand, letting the dry heat of the desert radiate his skin in spite of the broad hat of green fabric which completed his uniform, joining the cohort of his men aligned with the line facing to the towering helicopter which was slowly starting to swallow the troop in the heavy sound of the engines idling.

Fred returned a quick salute to the soldiers who greeted him on the way, still a little inexperienced, but somewhere satisfied to dominate the latter. Having two chevrons sewn on his sleeves did indeed add a little more to the profession of soldier, even if the duties they brought sometimes caused him concern. One by one, the soldiers entered the large roaring chinook wanting to take off, which was going to make its last rotation to take them to their new town of fabrics and temporary huts where the equipment was already waiting for them. For more than three years that Fred had served, he had been able to see for himself the relative efficiency of the army when it gave itself the means in terms of logistics.

Quickly, it was Fred's turn to enter through the large back door and turned right away his heels, cursing himself. Once his feet on the ground, he came back and sat with his back to the metal wall, his bag between his legs, his hands busy finding the straps and stretching them out to snap them around his stomach. Around him, the soldiers and the other non-commissioned officers exchanged their banalities, their sights.

« Do you think the new base will be better ?

- Frankly, I doubt it. Here there is above all sand and rocks. 

- And not a shade other than the ones we bring. 

- Well as long as the manager does not forget the water tanks. 

- This happens often ?

- Not really but when it does we can feel it, believe me.

- I heard we were going to be in an Italian fort, is that true ? "

Fred couldn't help a little cry of surprise from his throat, which made the two closest soldiers smile. Fred smiled at them, he had never been able to get rid of this little fright when the heavy wheels of the helicopter left the ground to rise before heading towards its destination.

« Hey, Sarge ! »

Fred does not react. Sitting in his seat, he turned his head to look at the desert which was parading before him about a hundred yards below him now. The Chinook's two rotors chopped the air, leaving a loud humming noise in the cabin of the helicopter.

« Sergeant Kaplan ! 

- Ah uh... Yes, Lieutenant ! Excuse me... "

Lieutenant Vincent smiled at him. Fred hadn't even noticed that his superior, an ambitious and competent young white tiger, had taken his place in the next seat.

« Relax, it's an order... "

Fred smiles in turn. His phobia was no secret, and he knew that many of his men and some of his superiors liked to play with it. Including new ones, like Lieutenant Vincent.

Lieutenant Vincent showed Fred a USB drive between his fingers. The sound of the engines was loud and the two men had to speak out loud.

« More seriously, are they your conclusions on this ?

- Yes, Sir. I regret to have to say it there but... In my opinion, our Apaches will no longer be operational within three to four months if the supply of repair equipment is not more regular and more important.

- The General Staff will not appreciate.

- I can imagine, Sir. But I don't see myself faking the test results to please them.

- Budget restrictions will not allow us to have a quarter of the equipment needed for this. We will have to find something else and adapt to it.

- We will do our best, Lieutenant. But even by cannibalizing out-of-service devices... If I may indulge myself, Lieutenant...

- Go for it.

- Whoever chose the Apaches to equip our army should be brought to justice...

- Really ?

- Yes. These devices are very beautiful and impressive, but they devour too much material for their basic maintenance. We spend as much money, men and equipment with an Apache as with three Chinooks like the one we are in. And for services rendered much smaller.

- I know it, Sergeant, but we have to deal with what we have. Speaking of which, how are your new team members behaving ? "

Fred closed his eyes and thought about it. He opened them again, looking at the two rows of men and women seated, assured of not seeing them too close to him and capable of hearing them. However, he looked at them in turn, pointing to the lieutenant. None of his subordinates paid attention to the sergeant.

" It's less worse than I feared. Lopez and Garcia made peace. Milton learns quickly and well, it will be necessary to see to give him a promotion. Corporal Swift worries me more. "

Fred pointed to a thin boar's chin sitting far away from them, staring into a pocket book with torned pages. The other soldiers were more or less entitled to the same treatment. The two big cats from rival neighborhoods in Los Angeles who had brought their mutual hostilities before Fred put in order, making them understand that the two were going to know worse than neighborhood quarrels if they did not understand that now they had to put their vigors in the common service of the army. Fred would have been allowed to think he was more impressive than he had been if he hadn't realized that the two soldiers were looking like more to excited kids than actual violent gang members. The goat had attracted his attention by his desire to know how to do everything, and quickly. Fred had little experience yet, but enough to teach him to channel his needs, his desires and to perfect his learning methods. A solid friendship could have arisen but Fred had insisted, for his own reasons, on maintaining a reasonable distance. Milton had heard of the reasons and he did not hold it against him.

" Why ?

- I do not know. I'm not sure but I think he is abusing stimulants. He goes through cycles of excitement and depression, it is a sign, and his record indicates that it is not the first time.

- It is to watch, indeed. But you must also take into account his seniority. A veteran is by nature more damaged than a recruit. How do you feel ?

- Me ? Like a NCO who has only eight months left of duty before going home.

- Have you decided to leave?

- Yes, my Lieutenant. The army allowed me to have an excellent technical training and it is just that in return, I dedicate four years of my life to it. But I will not go beyond. The army brought me a lot but the war took me back a lot.

- I understand you. Your departure will be a big loss for technical services.

- I would have stayed, but with the death of Gerald… ”

Fred closed his eyes, his face wearing a tired smile.

«  I have lost too many friends, Lieutenant. Too many of them have gone home with a flag on their stomachs. 

- Is that why you refuse to mix too much with newcomers ?

- Yes, Sir. Besides, my parents don't let it show, but I know they fear for my life. It would also be unfair to inflict four more years of torture on them. I'm their only child, you know.

- It is their role to worry.

- Just like yours do?

- Hey hey, almost... My mother told me that she prayed every day for me but my father only provides me with the best possible escort. When he can. »

Fred then remembered that Lewis Vincent was the son of Colonel Richard Vincent, the commander of the base where they were going.

“ It is not easy every day to have a high-ranking father. The accusations of favoritism are never slow to circulate. I thought for a while to commit myself under the maiden name of my mother but I finally felt that my value would be more strongly recognized if I did not use this trick. Facing the critics makes the challenge more difficult, but the victory is all the greater.

- I understand you, my Lieutenant.

- Ah yes ? Do you also have a high-ranked parent too ? "

Fred smiled somewhat more frankly, his gaze in that of his superior officer.

« No, Sir. I am gay. Believe me when I tell you that this is an even more difficult challenge than having a known name. »

--

Greg slows down. The rental sports coupe was advancing at a scandalously slow speed on the asphalt road with regard to its capacity but the residential area was far from offering the long straights necessary for the deployment of all its power. And then, if Greg had inherited Ed's love of beautiful cars, the engine was of secondary importance. For sure, Ed would have been annoyed to travel at such a slow pace and he would have incited him to more mechanical bravery.

But Greg was not Ed and it was almost at a standstill that he drove the car into the split concrete driveway where there was already an even more ordinary city car. The rott cut the engine and winced when he opened the door, a strong hot wind destroying the beneficial freshness of the air conditioning. It was still only the month of May, but to see the surrounding dry grass lawns, the sun had not waited to do damages. Greg had left his light cut suit in the suitcase, quickly realizing that carrying more fabric made no sense even as close to the Bay. Leaving his bag in the trunk, Greg looked at the panorama before him. Francis had done well to allow himself to move into the house which allowed him to have a distant but unparalleled view of the Golden Gate. Finally, when the weather allowed, most of the time offering only the view of the pillars, the rest being drowned in the mist. Greg couldn't help but smile as he thought of all these shots of the iconic bridge taken on the rare days of good weather. At least, London was not cheating too much on this point when it came to the reality of the ambient climate.

The rott's smile squeaked a little when he saw the donkey open the door and wait for him on the porch. Francis had little changed, still plump and smiling. He had just gained a little muscle and was no longer chubby as in high school. Greg stepped forward, the two men hugging before joining their lips tenderly and enviously.

Oh, how Greg would have liked it to be more true.

« How was your flight ?

- Boring as usual. Nothing notable apart from a breakdown that cut the screens the last two hours. "

Francis winced a little.

“ I wonder how people were doing before the invention of these things. It must have been hell to do ten hours of sitting flight without doing anything other than reading.

- I think married heterosexuals have experienced the same thing sitting in front of stores or their wives shop.

- I believe, yes, they must have blessed the invention of the smartphone. "

The two men, hands in hand, entered.

« Don't you have a suitcase ?

- It’s in the trunk. I will take it out later. »

Francis led Greg into the living room. The brown wood exterior hid a temple dedicated to the most advanced technology. Although not very customary, Greg recognized the most recent radios, televisions, the most popular connected devices. The rott thought that the toilets should be the only blank part of any device connected to the Net. The living room was populated with inexpensive, well-lit, and reasonably cool furniture. The small table carried two cutlery and trays garnished with cold meats and vegetables. Francis took his place and Greg faced him.

Everything seemed for the best. Francis looked in good shape and he looked as attractive as before. Even more since it had been months since the two men had seen each other.

But Greg was somewhat sad inside. He was happy to see his love again but ...

" So what's up ? "

Greg asked the first question of any formality.

" Not much. The work is progressing. I can not say anything more, I even think that I have not the right to speak about the color of the tiling of the toilets, then…

- Are you sure you can say that there are even tiles ?

- Now that you say it... But hey it's the job that wants that. The industry is in crisis you know. It becomes harder and harder to make technological breakthroughs, we arrive at a physical wall that will be impossible to cross. Unless you have a Star Trek style discovery… ”

Greg smiles, fork in hand, teeth stabbing long filaments of noodles.

" I imagine. "

The fork remained in the void.

Francis noted it.

" You are not hungry ? "

Greg looked at the fork, seeming to discover it, bringing it to his mouth.

" You have problems ? "

Greg found it hard to chew, then swallow. His mind overwhelmed with immense weariness. He put the fork down on the first bite.

"I don't know if coming here was a good idea after all.

- You really think ? "

Francis was looking at the table. His fork full too, but without having eaten anything. His voice betrayed sadness and somewhat relief. The two men understood this. The moment seemed to come.

« I'm not sure, Francis. But I believe it.

- Maybe you're right... "

Francis toyed somewhat with the food on his plate.

« You... Know when things started to change ? Between us, I mean.

- I don't really know. Maybe when you accepted this scholarship to come here to California. Or when I agreed to go to France. Or when Dad got your custody after your father was arrested. "

The two men looked at each other, without smiling, without anger, without hatred. But they both saw him. What had been forged between them was gone. All that remained was traces. Time and distance had done their work.

« You know Francis, I think we have to face it. I don't think I'll come back to the United States for a while.

- I like it here. And then my company will never allow me to go to another continent. Of course I can do my work remotely but it is the company policy to limit unnecessary and fragile communications. There is so much to lose in piracy and espionage now. I know what I mean.

- I have always loved this country. I loved France for the four years I lived there and I like England now. And then the American championship is still too weak in my eyes. I have more to bring to my team than here. "

Francis understood. Just as Greg understood. He tried to change the subject.

« You heard from...

- NO !

- Excuse me if I hurt you...

- It’s nothing, I'm the one who apologizes, it's not your fault. But talking about it...

- I shouldn't have done it.

- Yes, but I don't hold it against you. It was not you who lied to me for twelve years. It's odd but I don't blame Dad for doing this too.

- Maybe because he didn't lie to you, but he just didn't told you the whole truth. 

- Without a doubt. Anyway, she left. The only thing that pains me is that I don't know how my sister is. Finally, my half-sister. "

Greg in turn played with his food. The silences were now longer, more weighty, highlighting the difficulty of the two men to get to the bottom of things. They were going to have to do it though.

“ Family relationships have never been easy with us.

- Neither does our relationship, Greg.

- For some time, yes.

- It might be good to...

- No.

- No ?

- No, Francis. I know what you want to tell me, but it's hypocrisy. In other words, frankly, don't you think ?

- Is it the end then ?

- Yes. I'm afraid it is. "

Greg sighed. He no longer dared to look Francis in the face. He had put down his fork and Francis was doing the same now even if their plates were still full.

"I know how you feel, Greg. And why. I will have... Loved being the first to say it so you wouldn't be embarrassed. So I'll tell you, Greg. It's over between us. I don't hate you, I don't hate you. Even for the five years of hell that you made me live when we were kids. I left that behind a long time ago, from the moment I kissed you for the first time. But the best things come to an end. What I want you to know, Greg, is that I don't hold it against you. Our story will have ended naturally. When we each live on a continent, we cannot have a romantic relationship, however strong it may be. Or in any case it is very difficult. The example of your fathers is an exception.

- The French have an expression for this. " Loin des yeux, loin du coeur. "

- I think I can sense the meaning.

- Yes. Love is a feeling that needs to be nurtured. It is more the everyday gestures that make a couple stay together for a long time. We don't have a daily routine. I cannot come and settle here because there are no clubs of a good enough standard and you work for one of the most famous computer company. I can't ask you for such a sacrifice. Like you you can't do it. 

- We… At least we don't hate each other. Right ?

- Francis, you are and you will always remain a friend to me.

- For me too, Greg. »

Greg and Francis get up together to hug. Greg then kisses Francis on the cheek.

" Not like that, Greg... "

He then kissed Greg on the mouth.

“ A relationship must end as it started.

- You are right. I... Will go now. Goodbye Francis.

- Goodbye Greg. "

The rott looked around his friend's house. He was certain that he would never come back again, for lack of valid reason.

He turned his back and opened the door. Greg looked behind his friend for the last time, a sad smile on his lips. He didn't want to leave a last bad image of his relationship. He closed the door gently.

Francis stood for a moment, trying to cry. But despite his pain, he did not feel a place to express his sadness, keeping in his mouth the bitterness of the end. He put his buttocks on the table still stocked uselessly now, looking down, rubbing his forehead with his hand to try to evacuate his sadness contained by his feeling of betrayal.

Greg got back behind the wheel. He thought of his bag, still in the trunk. Was it possible that his decision had been made long before, deeming it unnecessary to take out the bag, knowing that he was not going to stay ?

In fact, Greg didn't care. On the road now, he was trying to drive straight despite his eyes clouded with tears.

Francis remained seated, his head in his hands, trying to feel what he should logically. But no, nothing. He couldn't do it, he just felt his cheeks getting wet. He did not move when the door opened. Francis looked at the entrance. Much to his dismay, he did not expect Greg to return. On the contrary, he felt relieved to see the familiarly black bear entering the house.

In his oversized white t-shirt, stuck in his pants, Dave didn't say a word until Francis got up to hug him tenderly.

It was only then that he cried, a prisoner in the arms of the ursid.

Dave rubbed the donkey's back tenderly.

« Dave... If you knew how much I hate myself… "

Dave smiled somewhat, still clutching Francis, snout glued to his shoulder.

« It's not your fault, Francis ... And then you know ... It's better to do so. Greg doesn't deserve to be brokenhearted. We do this to protect him, nothing else. "

It had been years since Dave had come to live on the West Coast, forced to follow his parents when he was still a high school student. Since then, he had grown up, had made policing his profession. Francis looked up to look at the bear, smiling somewhat, his fingers running over the reddish scar that forever closed his left eye diagonally. Dave kissed the handsome thick man who was in his arms.

“ To do so is to allow him to recover more easily and quickly. Our well-being doesn't count here, Francis.

- I know it. But I can't help but think that by doing this we behave like sons of bitches. "

Dave, however, agreed with this harsh but fair judgment. But of two evils, it was always necessary to choose the lesser.

------------

" Here we go. "

Mark looked at the wheel of his light blue pickup for a moment, once parked by the sidewalk. Around him, a parade of plush houses framed the ribbon of asphalt, the kind of place he would never live. After quick thinking, he added for himself the kind of place he wouldn't like to live anyway. The houses were too big, too rich, too close to each other awkwardly hidden behind their old trees. Mark got out of the vehicle and reflexively locked it. Here it was certainly not his car that would get stolen first. Across the street, the Georgian manor house of red brick and white pillars displayed its splendor behind a lawn too green to be natural and behind a fine mesh of white bars at the door of which a policeman in uniform was trying to keep her eye out, trying not too show her boredom in his room.

The rott smiled politely at her. The equine was too thin, too small, and too female to pay her any attention.

« What do you want mister ?

- Hello Madam. I have an appointment with the governor.

- Your name ?

- Trevor Lane.

- A moment please. "

The mare searched a list with the tip of a pen and ticked off the name. Mark smirked inwardly at the mention of a name he never thought he would use after all this time. 

“ You can come in sir. Do not be surprised, you will pass the security gate inside with my colleague. "

Mark returned the courtesy to the police officer before climbing the ten steps that led to the porch. Behind him, he heard the policewoman contact her colleague when he arrived. He was therefore not surprised to see the door open at his approach and close immediately behind him. Mark stared briefly at the heavy brown wooden door before turning his attention to the plush interior. The entrance was large and well furnished, oval in shape. On the left, a closed door was to lead to a living room. A kitchen could be guessed through the right door and a short corridor led to a large staircase and another corridor leading no doubt to secondary rooms. Another mare invited the rott to pass under the portico.

" Please put your keys, money and any other metal objects in the basket." 

The young woman pointed to the rings piercing his ears and snout.

“ Including your jewelry. "

Mark understood. He opened the rings one by one and put them in the bin before walking under the portico which remained silent. He was then able to put everything back in place, smoothing out his pockets for more comfort. His bright red shirt went perfectly with his black pants and leather jacket, which he left open.

« Madam the Governor is waiting for you, it's the office just in front of the stairs." 

- Thank you… "

Mark wiggled his rings to make sure they were closed securely as he walked up the stairs. He knocked on the door and a faint "come in" invited him to go further. A young feline, of aristocratic appearance, gauged him a little haughtily.

« Trevor Lane, I have an appointment with ...

- Madame will receive you in a moment. "

Mark didn't like the tone or being cut off by a kid who was half his age. He would have stuck a slap or two on him to teach him a little bit about life and if he had been younger and in a class under his care, he would have made him learn politeness even faster. But this was neither the place nor the time. The kid knocked on the door, opened it and threw

“ Your 2:30 pm is here, ma'am. "

Mark didn't need to hear the answer to move forward, trying to ignore the insufferable, arrogant kid as he walked past him. The door closed behind him and he focused on the figure sitting behind the desk, pen in hand running across paper. It was fun, he told to himself. This was how he had seen her for the last time. Writing on a sheet of paper the motion that made him the legal guardian of that poor Francis.

In any case, she didn’t forgot him too.

“ You ? What are you doing here ? "

Irene Winther put down her pen, preparing to push the button that would activate security. The black rott had grown a bit stronger after the last few years, but her gaze had remained the same. Sharp and contemptuous to any non-heterosexual person.

“ Mrs. Winther. "

She was surprised to see the rott bow slightly, showing more deference than she thought he could.

" I am…

- Miller. I know who you are. You are not the type of person who is easily forgotten, even after all this time. "

Mark grimaced. The rude boy who served as his secretary, warden, and no doubt coffee porter went very well with the witch he had in front of him. He remained calm, however. Well, almost.

“ I am also your 2 : 30. "

Irene looked at her schedule.

« I'm expecting a Mr. Trevor ...

- Lane. I know. It's me. Well, that's the name I got when I ran the roads after being kicked out royally by my own… parent.

- Why this deception ?

- I told myself that if I had requested an appointment under my name, I would have picked up a February 31. Or some time after your term ends. "

Irene remained silent. She told to herself he had been right, it probably would have been happened. If she had had the right to do so. But carrying the mandate of governor also gave her duties, much to her annoyance. She pointed to the reserved chair and Mark took a seat, a faint winning smile on his face.

" Thank you.

- You asked to see me about a court case, I believe, right ? "

Mark didn't take offense at the coldness of his favorite enemy. He had had another and he let her quickly look at the file prepared for this purpose.

" Yes. I have come to plead a case. Now only you can do something after that death sentence was delivered. "

This brought history back to Irene's memory. She found the trace more easily on the paper.

“ Gina Anderson Stewart. Sentenced to death eight months ago for the murder of her husband and daughter. "

Mark's face closed a little. He never imagined that hearing that name once more would bring those sad memories back to his mind.

That cursed day or by turning on the TV on the local channel they had, him and Ed, learned of Jimmy's death. Shot in his home by his wife, killing too her daughter.

But what they had struggled the most with was learning that they had played an indirect role. According to investigators, Jimmy had died from a marital crisis. Gina had learned about her husband’s bisexuality and she couldn't stand it. Ken, Jimmy's closest friend after them, had confirmed it, speaking vaguely so as not to betray too much the secrecy of the investigation.

Too hasty or careless, Jimmy had left on his computer one of the many amateur porn movies that he, Mark and Ed had filmed to immortalize their discreet antics when Gina went to see her family. This had sparked a heated argument and Gina's violently homophobic character had surfaced. The course of the evening was difficult to trace, but the end was certain. She had shot Jimmy with his own service weapon and then killed her own daughter.

For weeks on end, the two men could think of nothing but to think that they had played a part in the massacre before they came to their senses. They had committed no crime, no imprudence. The trial, which they would have liked to follow only from afar, had comforted them in the end.

Mark then realized that the thread of his thoughts had brought him back to the point of his discussion with Irene, like a boat on the water.

“ But we were in those movies, and we had to testify. In the end it put the ideas back in place, you know. We didn't knew this woman might be able to do this. Jimmy had chosen this compartmentalized life. He didn't knew it would end up killing him.

I can understand this. Marital crime. The feeling of deceit and deep betrayal may be enough to commit the irreparable.

- For the spouse, no doubt. But her daughter ?

- That, no. The jurors understood it too, that's why she was sentenced to death. I understand them and I intend to let justice go to the end. "

Irene's voice was clear, dry, cold. Without hatred but determined. Mark knew it would be difficult.

“ Jimmy was a friend. A very close friend. Not to mention sex, he was a worthy man who could be counted on. His only fault is not being… Not having been like many would have liked him to be. "

Mark always had a hard time talking about Jimmy in the past tense.

" I imagine. If he had been more… normal. He would still be alive. "

Mark closed his eyes. He wanted to explode and throw this woman out the window in the hope of impaling her on the outer grill. But to his surprise, he remained in control of himself. This surprised Irene. Mark then understood the provocation on purpose. This woman was contemptible and intelligent. The worst possible mix.

Mark's deep voice carried his fight, his cause.

“ He would have been too if he hadn't married this mad homicide. But he loved her. Truly. You never saw his eyes on the day when he proposed to her. I saw them. It was as if he had just been blessed by all the gods possible in creation. Those eyes, I saw them twice more. When he told me his wife was pregnant, and soon after when he showed us the first photos of his daughter when she was born. He had a happy life despite everything. It just ended too soon, too unfairly. »

Irene was still seated, her back firmly in the chair.

« Why then plead his case ? She killed her husband and daughter.

- I know. To be frank, if the situation was different, I will be here to ask you to have the honor and pleasure of being the one to push the button that will send her to hell. "

Irene was somewhat surprised. Mark noticed it.

“ It's something that I don't share with my husband. I sincerely believe in the validity of the death penalty. "

Surprise gave way to incomprehension. Mark continued.

“ But there is one element that changes everything. You must know that Gina gave birth to a boy, right ?

- I think so. I heard she didn't ...

- She never hugged him. She never looked at him, she refused to see the photos of the little one. Ken, one of the police officers who intervened that night, told me that she tried to kill him. "

Irene seemed genuinely surprised.

“ He never mentioned it in the report or at the hearing. He was afraid the defense would use it to plead insanity.

- Which would have led to a reduced sentence. Or even acquittal and internment. 

- None of the cops present spoke. In general I disapprove of police maneuvers, but sometimes an exception can not hurt.

- I must say I agree. But why plead for his grace, then ? "

Mark rubbed his hands nervously, still seated facing the governor.

“ The little boy did nothing. He is innocent. Shortly before Dottie was born, Jimmy had made a will. In the event that his wife should be unable to raise him, he appointed us, my husband and I, as guardians. Can you imagine the faith he had in us ? "

Irene preferred not to think of anything without showing it.

“ The social services were based on it and they consulted us. We accepted and his little boy is with us now. I knew that the choice of the first name had been made and it was normal for us to take Sam under our roof. "

Irene continued to think of nothing.

“ This is the one and only reason I plead for his grace, ma'am. "

Irene felt a slight wind of victory in front of so much deference.

“ He will grow up. We're going to do our best to make him a boy and then a decent man. But he leaves with the handicap of having lost his father in a tragic way and especially of seeing his mother involved in his death in such a direct way. He will inevitably ask questions and we are already dreading the answers that we will have to give him. He will know anyway. The only thing we can do is cushion the shock. Can you imagine his reaction when he’ll learn that his mother has been sentenced to death and executed ? "

At these words, Irene could only shake her head sideways.

" We neither. You cannot imagine such a thing, it is impossible. But it will be devastating. At school first, this will stigmatize him. We want the best for him. Perfection will never be possible and life will hit it. We want to do everything to protect it as much as possible.

- Is that why you don't want to see her executed ?

- The one and only. I told you, if he had not been there, I would have accepted with great joy to be at least in the witness room for the killing. But there he is. He doesn't deserve to suffer for his mother's crimes. It is not fair. I know the world isn't either, but he deserves to be fought to make it a little better for him. "

Irene remained silent. She didn't like this man. Forever and ever. He was the negation of everything she believed in. In addition, he made her see a moral problem from a different angle that made her think about a question that she thought had a simple answer. She looked at her screen.

“ I have an emergency to resolve, I am sorry that I cannot continue this discussion. "

Irene got up to walk the guest home. Mark stood up too, not wondering if this was a ruse or not. He didn't like her, but she didn't seem like a liar.

He was at the door, which she opened.

“ I don't know what answer I'll give you. But in any case, your conscience will leave you in peace, you will have pleaded your case. "

Mark felt resentment fuel the words. Once again, he had pushed her to the limit. And again, he was satisfied with it. He greeted her and left the office.

-