We Did a Good Thing Ch. 02

"I see your point," Brenda said after a few moments of consideration.

She absentmindedly tapped her fingertip on the tabletop as she dove into her thoughts.

"I think you're right," she said a minute later.

"You do? You're agreeing with me?"

"I am. You're absolutely right. It could be traumatic to your employees."

"Good. I'm glad we see eye to eye."

"But it won't be traumatic for me. I've seen worse, remember? Give it to me, and only me, under complete compartmentalization."

"I wish we could do something, but⁠—" I stopped speaking when I realized what she'd said. "Whoa. What?"

"You heard me. Put all this behind lock and key and tell Benny we're not going to take it. But you'll have to give me the key."

Our document and communication management system, complete with the front-end web portal, email system, IP telephony, and several other systems were controlled by software I'd purchased for my firm's use. It was the system which allowed the researchers to sequester their work product so it'd only be visible to them or any other researchers they "read in."

It was the software suite I'd licensed from the company for which my former fiancée worked and was the reason I'd first met her at the trade show.

Because of my personal feelings, I'd considered abandoning their product, but the software had made many aspects of my business much easier to manage, and I didn't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. I called their sales team manager and asked only to be assigned to another account manager, because I no longer had any faith in the one named Cassidy Hudson.

When she advised Miss Hudson was no longer employed by them, all of my internal conflicts were resolved.

"Brenda, are you sure? I mean … you're up for this?"

"Yeah. I can manage it. Remember my past, Todd. I need to help this kid."

"It worries me. I'm afraid of the baggage you'll carry if you do this."

"I know, baby. Trust me. My experience in the AFOSI will help. We were taught how to distance ourselves from our work. I never was assigned to anything like this," she said, pointing back to the screen, "but some investigations came close. Plus, given what I went through four years ago … trust me."

I was the one then tapping my fingers on the table.

"Brenda⁠—"

"Tell me to leave it alone, and I'll understand. I'll back off," she offered. "But please … don't."

I created a new container in the secure system and moved all the documents related to the application into it.

"Try to call her," I suggested.

Brenda dialed the telephone number I had highlighted on the screen. She didn't put it on the speaker, so I only heard half of the conversation.

"Hello, is this Sandra Sharpe?"

"Hi. My name is Brenda Carlson. I'm with Carlson Research. I understand you're the attorney ad litem for a minor, Jill Willis. Is that correct?"

"I've spent some time this morning familiarizing myself with your particular claim. Do you have a few minutes? I'm assuming this conversation will be privileged. Also true?"

"I appreciate your understanding. You will be receiving a call from another one of this firm's employees declining to accept the case. We have to completely contain what's about to happen to distance the business itself from the investigation. If it's acceptable to you, I'll be handling it personally."

"Thank you. I'll be back in touch very soon. I doubt I need to tell you time is of the absolute essence."

"Again, thank you. Have a good day," Brenda said, disconnecting the call she'd made on the team room phone.

Since she'd PINed the outgoing call with the new file number, the call wouldn't be recorded in logs other than those visible to her or me.

I stood from my chair, opened the door, and signaled Benny to return.

"Benny, contact her attorney and tell them we can't accept."

"Oh," he said, sighing dejectedly. "Alright. I'll do it later this afternoon, but I don't understand why I ca⁠—"

"Do it now, Benny, okay?" I said as even toned as I could manage.

He looked at me, somewhat frustratedly. "Jeez. Fine. I thought I knew you, Todd," he said, leaving the room to make the call from his desk. I followed him there.

As soon as he'd hung up, I said, "Come back to the team room, okay?"

"Why?"

"Come back, Benny, please?"

He stared at me askance but followed me.

"Forgive me, Ben," I said after I closed the door.

"Hey, it's your business. You can⁠—"

"No, Benihana ," Brenda said. "Wink wink, nudge nudge."

"What? What the hell are⁠—" He paused, then I saw his eyebrows rise. "Oh. Oh! Okay." He grinned knowingly. "Cutting me out?"

"Cutting you out of what? You get it, right?" I asked.

"I do. And, hint hint, you know I don't work for the company twenty-four seven," he mentioned to Brenda with one eyebrow raised.

Brenda chuckled. "Let me guess. You were behind the Farber thing, weren't you."

He grinned again. "Yeah. Uh … no! No. Well, yeah. But no."

"Uh-huh," my wife said before giving him a bear hug after she'd put two and two together.

She'd realized Benny had done the research on the illegal activities of a particularly ass-hatted law enforcement officer who'd relentlessly harassed her. The documentation and evidence Benny had collected was given to Robin Grant, the client we'd helped six months earlier, who wrote an anonymous exposé which led to Farber's ouster and the continuing investigation by the Attorney General of Nebraska.

"You really are my brother from another mother."

"And I've always got your back," he said before he left the room with a re-elevated spirit.

February 17, 2019

The investigation was successful, and the commission the firm earned was a record breaker at more than two million dollars. So, yeah. Brenda earned a pretty hefty bonus with its closure, and she sidelined a tidy sum to Benny who helped her out on some of the digital artifacts.

The case involved a fourteen-year-old girl named Jill Willis.

Curious about their heritage and lineage, she and her father employed a pair of those DNA tests one can buy online. Her mother declined, insisting the two already knew as much as they should want to know.

Three weeks later, names of familial matches started popping up in Jill's profile.

The closest match was to an individual classified as an unknown uncle or, possibly, a half-brother. Searching the name on the internet, she found numerous news articles identifying the name as a party to a particularly brutal crime.

The assailant ended the lives of his parents and his only sibling, a younger sister, before taking his own. Investigators had yet to find a motive. It transpired about six months earlier.

In the state where the family resided, the probate court allowed a sixty-day window to file claims to the estate once it had started the process. Brenda needed to quickly dive into the details because the clock had already been ticking for forty days.

DNA tests can't distinguish whether two related people are half-siblings or aunts/uncles. Most people who submit direct-to-consumer ancestry tests don't understand the tests can't even distinguish whether a first degree relative is a sibling, a child, or a parent. In each case, the subject shares fifty percent of their DNA with the other. In all three cases, even the paternal and/or maternal haplogroups would match. Only the relative ages of the subject can give an inference as to who descends from whom.

Since Jill was a female, she had no Y chromosome, thus no paternal haplogroup to match against her dad. And, since her mother didn't participate in the experiment, Jill's maternal haplogroup wasn't matched, either.

Full siblings from one set of parents share half of their DNA. In the case of aunts or uncles versus half-siblings, both share approximately twenty-five percent , and the ages might only hint to one or the other. It was an important distinction, for if the two were uncle/niece, Jill would not be considered an heir.

Brenda drew lines connecting people on a dry erase marker board in our home office.

The distinctions could only be determined by gaining and testing samples of both of the deceased parents' DNA. The tests would take time, as would the paperwork required to submit the blood evidence from the crime scene to geneticists.

Once the family tree's grafts and prunes were sorted, the younger Miss Willis was, in fact, determined as not the daughter of the slain woman, but as a half-sister to a murderer and a daughter to the adulterous woman she'd considered her mother her entire life. Her true father was the same man who'd spawned the young man who'd murdered him.

The facts, as devastating as they were, established Miss Willis as an heir to the estate when it was settled.

One might think a surprise inheritance of over twenty million dollars would set the young Miss Jill Willis for life. Financially, it probably would. The tests had also, of course, revealed the startling fact that Mr. Willis was not the young lady's biological father. Her mother had been impregnated by another man seven years after marrying Mr. Willis. The only parents Jill ever knew parted company within days of the revelation.

Jill, as well as the man she considered to be her dad, decided the DNA didn't matter. He adored the girl he'd raised, and she loved and respected him just as strongly. Once they'd absorbed the shock, she began referring to her biological father from that point on as the "donor," while Mr. Willis never ceased thinking of Jill as his daughter.

During the six-week investigation, Brenda grew distant. She became distracted. At least, from me. She did seem to pay a lot more attention to Stacie, but I gave her the distance I imagined she needed.

It'd shaken her. While the majority of the case dealt only with establishing paternity, she had to dig deeply enough into the criminal act, it affected her. It exhausted her. April, Benny, and Penny noticed, and warned me she was disassociating.

"Mommy, you're squeezing me too hard!" I'd heard Stacie say a number of times when her mother had embraced her.

"Sorry, Chigger. I love you so much," Brenda would whimper, kissing our daughter's cheeks and forehead repeatedly.

After she'd closed the case, a couple of weeks elapsed before I cautiously approached my wife.

"Baby, you did a good thing, but you need a break. What do you think about us disappearing for a while?"

"I'd love to, but I've got a mile-high stack of stuff on my desk I've neglected which I need to get through," she said.

"Sure. Tomorrow morning, you're only working a half day. You'll spend it delegating some to Level fours."

"Todd, come on," she said, exasperatedly. "You know I can't⁠—"

"Further ," I interrupted, "you're going to take next week off, too. I'll order you if I have to."

She looked at me with widened eyes and a bit of shock on her face. "You think you can order me around?"

"No. Only trying to get my point across."

"Who'll keep things going?"

"I'm pretty sure Benny, Kelly, Brian, Paige⁠—"

"Okay, Okay," she said resignedly. "I get it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. I do. But where do you think Stacie would enjoy going?"

"No, hon. Just the two of us. You can even get away by yourself if you want to. I think you need a break is all. I'm sure April and Dale or Benny and Penny would be willing to take care of Stacie. So … what do you think?"

She smiled. "Okay. Book something. Don't tell me what you've got in store. Surprise me."

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yeah."

She gave me a yummy smooch.

Benjamin and Penny were happy to look after our daughter for a week, tag-teaming with April and Dale. Chloe was particularly thrilled with the news that she'd be palling around with Stacie during the week because the two had developed a fast friendship.

The following Sunday, my wife and I flew to an all-inclusive resort in Castries, on the island of St. Lucia. Yeah, it was kinda pricey for a sudden booking, but I didn't give a rat's ass. Neither did she, even though our flight was delayed by over six hours.

The flight was scheduled to arrive at about two o'clock in the afternoon, but it was closer to nine that night when we checked in and were shown to our suite.

"Todd, I should've listened to you," Brenda said not ten minutes after we'd settled into our luxurious bungalow. "The case … it got to me. You know? It was a total tit punch."

"I don't know what a tit punch feels like, but I think I get it."

"Thank you for not telling me you told me so," she whispered. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," I said, taking her into my arms once we'd undressed and snuggled into our luxurious bed. I left the door to the balcony slightly ajar so we could hear the soothing sounds of ocean waves and tree frogs.

"I think I'm broken," she whimpered.

"No, you aren't. You're feeling stress letdown."

Her tears came slowly. "Was I smothering Stacie?"

"As an objective observer? Yeah. Maybe a little."

"Will she forgive me?"

"I don't think she'll ever need to, honey. You're the most devoted and caring mother imaginable. Stacie will pull that sort of memory close to her when she needs it most, you know?"

"How'd you become so wise about children?"

"I dunno. The same way as you. Our own parents, I guess?"

"I miss mine," Brenda whispered.

"I wish I could have met them."

"They would have loved you."

"I'm glad you think so. It's such a total distortion of the norms, you know? My mother and father love you and Stacie, for sure, and they're still friendly with …"

Brenda chuckled when I paused a little too long. "Her name is April, Todd. I like her and her husband and kids, too. They're a fantastic part of you I'd never ask you to dismiss."

We held each other in the comforting balance of warmth and coolness of the Egyptian cotton linens dressing our bed.

"I so want to make love to you. I really do, but … crap. I'm tired," Brenda whispered in a lengthy yawn.

I grinned to myself in the total darkness of the room. "I'm glad you said it first. I'm about to pass out," I admitted. I encouraged her to snuggle close to me so we could sleep in each other's arms.

Yeah, the stress of travel did its number on the both of us. It was eighty-seven degrees outside, but our bungalow's air conditioner had no problem competing with the temperature and humidity. We felt perfectly comfortable in our close and calm surroundings, listening to the ambient noises of the island.

With occasional FaceTime calls home to check in on Stacie, Brenda and I soaked in the solitude, rest, and relaxation of the week. We even got a head start on a tan considering pool weather in Katy wouldn't be in play for another two or three months.

Our closeness was heightened, in part, because we'd not slept in a bed without any clothing but maybe a few times before that week other than accidentally falling asleep after making love, or when Stacie was at a sleepover at Chloe's.

It was an understandable reluctance Brenda held while having a young and unpredictable child in our house who might need urgent attention, and a delay to dress being inexcusable.

But that week, no. We nestled into our bed every night without a single stitch. We slept as lovers and spouses should. Heck. We had no shortage of intimacy the whole time we were there.

One day, we rented a boat and discovered a quiet, secluded stretch of water south of the oil storage terminal. We decided to mount each other, right there, a few miles from shore. In the open. Noisily. Very noisily. Unfettered utterances of joy and pleasure and everything else.

Risky? Yes. Worth it? Oh, hell yes!

But still. In both of our opinions, the most satisfying place to be intimate with each other, to truly make love with each other, is in the comfort of our nest in Katy, Texas.

But … yeah. I remember the sweetest awakening on Sunday morning with my beautiful wife kissing me gently until I stirred, softly stroking the hair of my chest.

"Good morning, baby," I whispered.

"Shh. Say nothing else, my love," she whispered back with a serene, lovely smile.

She moistened a fingertip with her tongue, then softly stroked my left nipple. I started to groan but didn't want to break the rules.

"Noises are fine." She smiled, licking her finger again and teasing my right nipple.

I softly acknowledged the pleasure with a smile and a deep sigh.

I felt her hand drifting down my trail before she leaned over and sucked gently on a nipple she'd hardened. Her hand met the thicker hair at my pelvis. She slowly ran her fingers through it. I began to harden as she cradled and fondled my scrotum, feeling the weight of my testicles in her hand.

She massaged my lengthening shaft, then traced so very softly a fingernail from its opening, down my frenulum, then farther. She encouraged me to part my legs wider when her hand met the interference of my thighs. She carefully ran her fingertips over my perineum, setting my hips into involuntary motion in response to her pleasurable caresses.

A little pressure was added when she traced her fingertip around and over my butthole, carefully watching my expressions as she did so. All she saw was my very relaxed smile as I looked into her piercing jade-green eyes.

She repeated her caresses until I was fully erect and throbbing. She moved herself a little higher in our nest and offered me her lips, barely grazing them over mine, before her tongue darted into my mouth with a quick flick. My relaxed lips made a funny popping sound, and her mischievous grin and chuckle shot sparks through my heart.

Her eyes closed. She met my mouth again, penetrating my lips fully with her tongue, seeking mine. They met, and mine followed hers on its slow retreat. Then between her lips, she suckled my tongue, and our mouths' waters mixed a wonderful cocktail only the two of us would ever share.

She gripped my shaft in her hand, slowly stroking me in her fist, kissing me softly.

"Brend⁠—"

"Hush, baby," she whispered again, "Let me have this waltz."

I nodded softly at her allusion. I'd told her the night before how I'd forced myself to let her "lead the dance" the very first time we were intimate on Christmas Eve in 2017. On that night, I was worried I'd provoke flashbacks of her prior spouse, so I wanted her to meter those glorious hours herself.

Somehow, she could always sense my state. She knew when I was close to climax, and she slowed or stopped her touches and strokes. She only continued when she sensed the near inevitability of orgasm had waned. She only pressed ahead when the intensity of my whimpers and mewls of desperation crossed an imaginary line she'd drawn somewhere.

She firmly stroked my most sensitive spot with her thumb. My orgasm was intense. My physical output, though, was more like a minor drizzle compared to the thunderous hurricane I felt. The fact my mate and I had drained each other's batteries more than a dozen times during the week made a difference I didn't care about.

"Can I talk now?" I whispered after a few moments.

Brenda giggled so effervescently a shot of goosebumps ran down the back of both of my legs.

"Of course you can," she whispered back.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because I wanted you to simply enjoy. You always take care of me, and⁠—"

"Ladies come first."

"You deserve firsts, too, don't you?" she asked with an affectionate smile.

She rose from our nest to moisten and warm a washcloth which she used to clean my semen off my torso.