Five Stories

I found it toward the back lot and knocked.

"Fuck off!" she shouted from the inside. I tried the door and discovered it was unlocked. I let myself and stepped into her trailer. "Who the fuck are you?"

Meg had taken off the harness and was sitting in a chair behind a table with a spread of snacks. The trailer smelled like cigarettes, and she had a lit one in the ashtray with a straight trail of smoke billowing upward. She saw the badge on my hip and leans back into her chair more.

"Did Julia call the fucking cops on me? I wasn't trying to hit her with the drink."

So much entitlement. She thought she could do whatever she wanted. I stared her down and said nothing for an uncomfortable long amount of time. I had rehearsed this so many times in my head, but now that I was there, I had nothing to say.

"What?" she asked.

"Why did you do it?" I asked, and she tilts her head.

"Do what?"

"Why did you lie? Why my husband?" I asked.

"Why your...I don't even know who you are. I promise I didn't fuck your husband; I have standards." She could tell the truth, if only when infused with insult.

"Why did you lie about Mike Tillman?" I asked again.

"I didn't, that all happened. We were on set and he..."

"...you said it was in the audition room."

"Right. I was auditioning, we were alone..."

"...no you weren't, there were two other people in the room. Why did you do it?"

Meg stands up, picks up the cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it across the room toward me.

"Who are you exactly?"

"I'm Mike Tillman's wife," I say, and she pauses, before taking another drag and dabbing the cigarette out.

"Ex-wife you mean. I guess you believed something," she taunts. "It was a coveted role, and I wanted it. He didn't want to give it to me. I warned him."

"Why?"

"I just told you. I wanted the role."

I can't comprehend this answer. This sociopathic reasoning without remorse. My husband hasn't worked in two years while never once being put on trial. Yet she's here, still climbing in her career. Why is she allowed to continue, while my husband is still getting death threats? For an accusation any reasonable person would conclude was an obvious lie.

A knock came from the door.

"Ms. Fontaine, we're redoing the stunt," a male voice said from the door. Meg huffed and walked over to the door and opened it. "He'll give you one more try, be you gotta go, time now."

"Let me get my harness," she says, and turns to grab it off the counter.

"We already have another ready on the building, we gotta Charlie Mike, let's go," he says, his insistence evident in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, calm down," she says pauses at the exit to look at me. She tries to think of something snappy, but the man beckons her again, so she departs without a word.

I don't know what I wanted to accomplish in that trailer. Maybe I trust wanted to look her in the eye and have her say it. Now I know without a shadow of a doubt my husband was innocent. Meg Fontaine was a narcissistic sociopath who weaponized a movement meant to bring accountability to men in power. She successfully turned Metoo into a marketing campaign.

I left that trailer feeling absolutely dejected. I felt the weakest I ever had in my entire life. With nothing left to do, I started to leave the set. The crew was working on getting the scene ready, and everyone was scrambling from the last second appearance of their leading lady. I turned over my shoulder and saw Meg on the building, getting set up in her gear and starting to inch her way to the edge of the building. I remembered thinking I wanted something to go wrong.

Action was called and Meg jumps. Her full weight hits the harness, and I could hear all the way from the entrance of the set the straps snap. Meg flipped as she dropped in freefall, and I lost line of sight for a moment due to the crew and equipment, but I heard the thud and screams. I stood there stunned for several seconds, before I slowly walked to my car and closed the door. Did I wish that into reality?

North Hollywood started the investigation, but RHD was pulled into it quickly due to its high-profile status. I was next on rotation, and it landed on my desk. My lieutenant asks me if I was okay for the case, considering my history with Meg Fontaine. I said I was fine, signed a form, and it was my case. I did the interviews, and I knew several people are lying right off the bat. Kenneth Taslim was lying. Gabriel Cohen was lying. I didn't push hard to figure out why they were lying. My official ruling was an accident, and I closed it. No one pressured me into that decision.

Jo hears my entire story, and kindly didn't record or even ask me if I was okay with recording. I know much of what I said contradicted most of what they were told. It doesn't explain who are why, but it does clear up much of the lies they've been trying to unravel. Lies I've withheld for my own preservation. I can't run from this anymore. I didn't kill her, but I've been willingly assisting the ones who did through inaction. Part of me wanted her dead.

"She wasn't wearing her harness when she left her trailer?" Jo asks, and I shake my head. "Different harness," Jo says and writes that down. "Someone called her out, and made sure she used the other harness?" I nod again, and bring up his selection of words as well. That was military jargon.

"What happens now?" I ask. Jo puts all her notetaking materials in her bag and swings it over her shoulder.

"We tell you who it was, and you arrest them," she says, and starts walking away.

"That's it?" I ask. Jo stops, turns and walks back to me.

"This isn't my call, it's Chase's. He's more forgiving than me. I will say, I do know what's it's like to have your entire life destroyed because of something you wish you had never done. I've been offered redemption more times than I've honestly deserved. Here's yours. Piece of advice; don't squander it."

--

-Chase Kramner-

Detective Holly Rolland spiked the ball. Meghan Fontaine had destroyed her marriage, and she allowed that history to cloud her judgement and duty as a detective. I do believe she ultimately does want to do the right thing. I also can't back her into a corner and demand she does the right thing without some assurances. You need to give people a way out. A chance to do the right thing, without being punished for it. Even if they should face the consequences for their actions.

Other people I'm not so keen on giving them the chance I've afforded Holly. Kenneth Taslim is one such man. Now that I know without a shadow of a doubt that Meg's harness was tampered with, Kenneth has a lot to answer for. He'd answer those questions if I could only find the guy. His home is empty, and his car is gone. Best I can do is sit on his house. While looking over my shoulder to make sure someone else isn't sitting on me.

Emmie drove out of her building with me laying down in the back seat. I have to assume Iron Sentinel is tracking everyone related to us in the LA area. Emmie drove me to meet an old friend of her father's from the Navy. Jenn's brother Yoshihito was a Navy SEAL, and those bonds of brotherhood never break. Everyone calls him Yoshi, which is a rough name to have in the military. He did twenty-four years, retired as a Senior Chief, and now lives in Montana with his wife. All his kids are grown, including Emmie.

I jump out of Emmie's car and into the hands of a stranger I've never met. He has me lay down again and starts to drive. Emmie told me his name was Rush, but he never introduced himself before I dove into the back seat.

"You're the poor fuck who married Yoshi's sister," he says just to bring some semblance of normalcy to the entire situation. Not every day a man gets a call to make a clandestine pick up and drop off for your war buddy's brother-in-law. It's a different breed of human who says yes to that.

"I'm the guy," I say.

"Who'd you piss off?" he asks.

"The less you know," I say.

"I don't like bad or incomplete intel. That got a lot of my friends killed," he says, and I understand that. "Drop of a hat, a frogman calls you, you answer. It's how we're hardwired. I'm willing to risk my life for Yoshi, and his baby sister, but I can't go into this completely blind."

"Private investigation, and someone hired Iron Sentinel to put some gum in our gears," I explain. He comes to a red light and slows to a stop. His head is on a swivel, keeping an eye out for any threat.

"Iron Sentinel huh," he asks.

"Heard of them?"

"Damn right I have. Hell, they even knocked on my door once. Looking to recruit. Anyone from special ops who still lives in Cali got that call. I'm done with that life. For Yoshi, I'll come out of retirement a moment. Check under my seat while you're back there," he says. I reach under his seat and find a carrying case for a pistol. I unclip it and open on the floor. A SiG P365 XL is in the case with two magazines of 9mm fully loaded with ten rounds.

"Traceable?" I ask.

"Not to me. Swapped out the barrels. If you gotta use that, ditch the barrel and get the rest back to me. Let's hope you don't."

I lock the slider to the rear, load the magazine, and release the slider to chamber a road. I pull back the slide to make sure it's seated right.

"What's your read on Iron Sentinel?" I ask.

"Some of them are good guys, but they also have a lot troublemakers in there. If you got kicked out of the Teams, or the Groups and Regiment in the Army, and not even the CIA would hire you, you go to work for Iron Sentinel. They're disproportionally shitheads. A few I know personally as assholes. Got kicked out for beating their wives, abusing prisoners, just barely dodging war crimes."

"What about a guy named Gabriel Coen?" I ask.

"Frogman?" he asks, and he turns over his shoulder to discover I don't know what that means. "Frogman is a SEAL."

"Yeah, he said he was a SEAL."

"SEAL team two out of Virginia. I knew him. Kicked out of the teams for demanding bribes from Iraqi Police. He's with Sentinel?" I confirm. "Figures."

"Emmie said your name is Rush?" I ask.

"Formerly known as. Corey Rushton. Lieutenant Commander Rushton before I left. That's the equivalent to Major in case your more familiar with Army commissions."

"Not really familiar with either," I admit.

"We're pulling up now. Check the back seat pouch," he says. I dig through the pocket and find a set of car keys and the burner phone. "Got em?"

"Yup," I say.

"Touch and go. Good luck," he says.

Rush pulls up next to a car and I bail out. I quickly unlock the car and jump into the driver's seat. He had placed a baseball cap and sunglasses in the passenger seat which I put on as he drives away. I take the moment to stuff the pistol in my waistband before starting the car. I check the phone and see a list of numbers for everyone else. Instructions tell us to quickly download an app called Signal, which I do. I see the chat is already created, and touch base with everyone.

I arrived at Kenneth Taslim's home in Culver City not too long later. I drove around his block several times, taking different turns to make sure I didn't have a tail. Each pass of his house I didn't see his car, so I parked three houses down and wait.

Three hours into the sting I get a message from Jo. She confirms my suspicions about Detective Roland. I told her in the event we're right about that, give her a way out. Roland is apparently on board with making the arrest once we give her a target. She even went ahead and did the DMV pull for Drake Rose's home. That's where Jenn went, but when I request a status, she takes over a half hour to reply.

"Found him," she replies. Jenn was looking for Drake Rose. The last piece.

"Where?"

"Dead in his garage."

I was afraid of that. Jenn says it looks like he's been there for awhile too. She found him dead in his car, apparently having suffocated from carbon monoxide poisoning. The car ran for so long unnoticed that it ran out of gas.

I tell Jenn to get out of there and get back to base. Jenn said we needed to move our war room every twelve hours at least, so now would be a good time. I asked Justin Fontaine if we could use his office, and keep it as quiet as possible. He was more than willing to oblige. That's war room B. War room C is Rush's garage.

A conspicuous black Range Rover pulls up to Kenneth's home, so I sink down into the seat some. One man exits the vehicle in their usual suits, and I lose him as he passes the hedges. I get out of the car, keeping low to the vehicles lining the street, to get line of sight on him. One man stays in the car while the second pulls a pistol from his jacket and begins screwing on a suppressor. They're cutting loose ends.

I pull out the phone and quickly type a message.

"Abort! They're cleaning house."

The window of the car I'm hiding behind is blown out by a gun shot, so I go prone on the curb. I can hear his feet maneuvering on my position fast. I get the gun ready and listen for his steps. I have an idea of where he is so blind fire over the top of the car. He scrambles and is now pressed against the car directly in front of my cover. I got the jump on them the first time, but short of a miracle, I can only delay him getting to me.

I unclip my leg and leave it slightly forward of the tire. Just enough to see my position. I limp to the back of the vehicle and wait. He takes the bait and starts moving on my foot, leaving his cover and keeps suppressive fire on the car until he would rationally be on top of me. He sees the leg instead.

"Fuck," he says, and I roll out of cover and double tap him. He gets a shot off in my direction, but I give him one more before he falls into the street.

The tire next to my head is hit and starts to deflate. His partner is now taking cover behind the Range Rover. I curse and crawl behind the car. I hear two thuds from bullets impacting the side of vehicle. I can hear his footsteps coming so try to get a shot off, but instead I'm forced back down by two bullets, one hitting the side, and the other so close to my face I felt the heat slicing past by left ear.

I hear a car coming down the street fast and lean up enough to look through the window of my cover. The man starts shooting at the car, but the driver plows him, sending him flipping across the roof and trunk. I stand up and look at the man in the street and the car window rolls down.

"Get in!" I look over and see Kenneth Taslim is the driver. I grab my leg and try to quickly clip it to the rest of myself. "Let's go!"

"Fuck it," I say, and hop on one foot clutching the prosthetic. I throw him my leg, so I have a free hand to open the back door. I dive head first into the back seat, and he takes off before I have a chance to shut the door.

--

I let the group know what just happened, and we decide we can't use war room 2 now. Justin Fontaine is a target too, so they'll be surveilling his office. We need to do a quick drop to get Kenneth's car off the road. Can't be driving around in a car with two bullet holes in the windshield and a person-shaped imprint on the roof. Jenn and I arrange a meet up location in North Hollywood so we can ditch the Kenneth's car.

Lance did a quick search for empty unsold properties to give us a driveway to hide the car in. Jenn pulls up on the street, and we jump vehicles. Jenn is immediately cautious of Kenneth, but I remind her he just saved my life. She pulls out directions to Rush's home on a sheet of paper and starts driving toward Encino. We're not creating any digital trail there. While Jenn is waiting for a red light, I disassemble the SiG and throw the barrel into a storm drain.

"You okay?" Jenn asks.

"It's not my first gun fight. Not even the worst," I say and place the remnants of the SiG under the passenger seat.

"That's not what I asked," Jenn says.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, and flex my hand which is still shaking. My hand always shakes after I have to use a gun. Every time. I know it was him or me, and I didn't start it, but I'm not a machine. I probably killed him, assuming he wasn't wearing a vest. Even after my time in the police, my body count is still going up.

Jenn takes my hand and interlaces her fingers through mine. I instantly feel my heart rate drop, and we look at each other with a small smile.

"For better or worse," she says.

It takes over an hour to get to Encino due to Jenn taking every obtuse turn and implementing every counter surveillance technique. When we're positive we shook any tail we could have, she finally backs into a driveway and through the open doors of a garage. The door slides down and we all exit the vehicle. Rush is standing at the door of his garage and gestures for everyone to walk past him toward the house which isn't attached. I hand him the rest of the gun which he says he'll take care of.

All the curtains are drawn, and everyone is here. Jo is standing next to a corkboard with all of our information on it, pinning on the data new and old. Emmie is down the hall with the kids. Jenn left for Drake Rose's after Emmie came back, but once Jenn found a body it became clear we needed to get off their radar entirely. Justin Fontaine is in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee, clearly shaken from having been extracted under these circumstances.

Kenneth is floating around, unsure if he should stand or sit. Unsure if he should even be here. Still, he saved my life. Mutually trying to not die can create great allies.

"Kenneth, if you know something, now's the time," I say. Kenneth takes a seat on the couch and slouches down with his elbows on his knees. He takes several deep breathes, and nods to his feet.

"Cohen killed her," he says, and looks up at me. "Gabriel Cohen."

"How do you know it was him?" I ask.

"Because I helped him do it," he says. Justin Fontaine is no longer in the kitchen, and lunges at Kenneth. Kenneth only defends by keeping the blows from his face while Rush and I jump in to pull them away from each other.

"That was my daughter! My little girl you mother fucker!"

"Justin, stop!" I say while pushing on his chest with my back to Kenneth.

"I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!" Justin screams at him. Kenneth was an internationally ranked Judo champion, and a Special Forces soldier. If Kenneth wanted, this would have been a one-sided fight. Instead, he takes the hits. He's accepted the consequences for his part in this.

"Rush, get him out of here," I say and Rush drags Justin out of the living room kicking and screaming.

"When you said you killed her when we first spoke, you meant it," I say, and he nods. "You told her to leave without her original harness?"

"No, that was Gabe. I just moved the mat and made sure she jumped."

"Why did you do it? You seemed genuinely broken up about her death."

"Alister Baker paid me a visit. We met in Indonesia when we were both still in our respective Armies. His unit trained mine in weapons and tactics. We trained them in jungle warfare. We stayed in touch afterwards, and he visited every year or so. When I came to the United States, he was my sponsor."

"He threatened your visa?" I ask, and he nods.

"All I had to do was help him with one thing. Something Special Forces is great at. Sabotage. He said all I needed to do was move a mat, and make sure she jumped," he says, and looks at his feet. "I knew Meg was sleeping with Baker."

"What?" I ask, to make sure I heard that correctly. I already had my assumptions this was the case, but now I can confirm it.

"Meg was having an affair with Alister Baker," he says, and I look up at Jo who examines the corkboard.

"How do you know for sure?" I ask.

"He came to her trailer a few times. We'd go to the same parties, and they'd disappear for about an hour. Meg had a habit of latching onto powerful men to advance her career."