The suits aren’t very happy with me. I called out three of their fellow agents—two from this office and one from the Orange County field office—who like to fuck underage girls, including the pig from the hallway. They now have to investigate their own, along with assholes from other law enforcement agencies and everyday-Joe child fuckers.
At first they doubted my story, but as Shay laid it out for them piece by piece she put together a picture they couldn’t look away from. By the time they finished grilling me up one side and down the other they were finally convinced I was telling the truth. I didn’t waver once, and repeated myself twelve different ways until they finally moved on to the next question and then the next. Shay called for a food and bathroom break halfway through. Shay and a female agent, who practically stuck her head under the stall door to make sure I was only peeing, escorted me to the bathroom.
I managed bites of sandwich between questions. And there was a shit-ton of questions. If I didn’t know the answer I just told them I didn’t know, which seemed to please Shay. I told them everything I could, holding nothing back. It got ugly and graphic in some places as I explained a couple sex acts neither one of them had ever heard of before. By the time I finished, Agent Carter, his boss—Special Agent in Charge Charles Fung—and Shay looked a little green, but wore it stoically. Who would make up the depraved shit I told them?
Carter and Fung retreat to a corner of the room and carry on a very heated whispered discussion. Shay pulls me into the opposite corner and we have our own secret conversation.
“They’re trying to figure out what to do with you and where to keep you so you’re safe and the agents involved don’t tip off Javier that you’re in custody and talking,” Shay says. “This is good. It means we’re in a good position to get the charges against you dropped. If there are ever extenuating circumstances, this is it. Agents buying children for sex.” She shakes her head. “Disgusting.”
“What are they going to do with me?”
“I think we’re about to find out.”
Fung approaches. “I think you’ll agree that we have some very special circumstances here. I’m going to arrange for the U.S. Marshals to take you into protective custody outside the county. You’ll remain with them during the investigation and trial. If there is one.”
“What protections does my client have if there is no trial?” Shay asks.
“The evidence she provided is very compelling. The only way I can see there not being a trial is if there’s a plea bargain, which is out of our hands and up to the Department of Justice. Our job is to investigate and to make sure you’re safe,” Fung says to me. “I promise you’ll be safe.”
“How long will it be before I’m out of protective custody?”
“That I don’t know. Could be months. Could be years. Depending. There’d likely be a permanent relocation and a new identity eventually.”
I motion for Shay to follow me back to our corner. When we’re alone, I ask, “Will I get to say goodbye?”
“To the young man waiting for you out in reception?”
“He’s still here?”
“He and Ed both. They’ve been waiting for a chance to see you.”
“Can you arrange it?”
She gives a firm nod and goes to talk to Carter and Fung. A few moments later she returns. “You’ll get a few minutes. They’re bringing them back here.”
I stare pensively at the door. Beau and I didn’t leave things the way I wanted to leave them. I’m not sure how he’s going to react when he sees me. I’m not even sure what to say to him. Goodbye seems too pedestrian. Thank you is not enough. Nice knowing you is incomplete.
I’ll never forget you.
As close as that is, it’s not close enough.
I’ll always care about you.
Better.
There will never be anyone else for me.
Exactly right.
But I can’t say it out loud. Saying it out loud is so final. Like I’ll never, ever see him again. Which I won’t. The realization is a heavy blanket settling over me. This is a forever goodbye. The kind you say and then think about later how you should’ve said this or done that, but you can’t go back.
He comes into the room and I’m hit with a wave of misery. His gaze searches the room for me, finding me huddled in the corner. He scoops me up in a sweet embrace, tucking his face against my neck, as he likes to do. I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss so many things about him—the smell of him, the feel of him, the way he looks at me, even his snoring. I don’t know how I’m going to sleep without him.
“They’re putting me in protective custody,” I tell him, my voice wavering.