Ranger - 8. The Housewarming

September 2020

“¿Como estás, Linc? Coje a Liebe un minuto, por favor.” CJ’s grandmother pecked Lincoln on the cheek, placed her great-granddaughter in his hands, and spread her arms wide. “Brad, it’s so good to see you. You look well.”

Rising from the patio bench, Brad leaned down to hug the much shorter woman. His balance on the artificial legs had improved significantly, but his stance remained a little wider as a safety measure. “Thanks, Aba. You look fantastic. What was it you said to Lincoln? It was too fast for me to follow.” His knowledge of Spanish was limited to mostly cuss words he had picked up from CJ or while on the field with Latin soldiers.

The Sunday of Labor Day weekend dawned warm and clear, an ideal day for an outdoor event. CJ and Owen lucked out; the weather was perfect for their housewarming party. Brad had not seen their home since the couple had finished the remodeling and moved in. That had occurred earlier in the summer when he was at Heroes Haven.

“Oh, I asked him how he was and to please hold Liebe, so I could hug you.”

“How come you said it in Spanish?”

“She’s been helping me. I’m trying to learn the language.” Lincoln’s dark face lit up with a giant grin aimed at the older woman. “Estoy bien, Aba. Por supuesto que cuido a la niña.” The smile became a chuckle when Aba laughed.

“Are you home for good, Brad?” she asked. “We all miss having you around. I hear CJ and Owen talking about you all the time.”

“I miss them too, Aba. And you, and Liebe, and… Oh what the heck, I miss a lot of people. I’ll be back in Washington for good in a week or so. I need to take care of a couple of things back in Delaware first.”

There were lingering details at Heroes Haven resulting from Henrik Green’s suicide. “Don’t go in there,” Mark had told him as he placed an arm around Brad’s shoulder. Both men had collapsed onto the front stoop. As residents trickled out of the gathering at the community center, Mark retrieved his phone and called 911.

“I should’ve been with him. I shoulda dragged his ass to the party.” Unable to stem the tears, Brad covered his face, lowered his head, and cried.

“You couldn’t have predicted this, man.” Mark kept his arm around the sobbing former Ranger. “Hell, you hung out with him more than almost anybody else.”

“It hurts, Mark. It hurts as much as it did when I found out about the other guys in my unit. I survived the attack, but they died. It’s not fair.” Allowing the words to drift away, Brad noticed the absence of music. Someone had turned off the sound system. “Henk may have been a pain in the ass at times, but he was a good guy under the rough outside. I’m gonna miss the grumpy fucker.”

“Me too… Me too.” Mark may have been trying to appear strong, but his voice trembled. “Definitely gonna miss the idiot. But we can’t save them all. Some are gonna slip through the cracks no matter how much we try. You’re strong, man. You can beat the pain. We can do it. We’re gonna have to work real hard to make sure we don’t lose anyone else.”

There was no further celebrating that evening. Emergency personnel removed the body and temporarily sealed the house. A police officer took statements from Mark, Brad, and Haven’s director and made it clear they did not think there would be a need for an investigation. In a clear plastic evidence bag, she took the firearm with her.

Brad called CJ—at the time traveling with Owen—the next day. CJ made the trip to Delaware as soon as he returned to Washington. By week’s end, Henk’s family in Georgia arranged for his remains to be shipped home for burial.

“Nobody goes inside until the people I hired come clean the place.” As an aside to Mark and Brad, the director mentioned he did not want any of the residents having to clean the mess left behind. The house would remain empty for the foreseeable future. Lakeside, the community held a somber memorial in Henrik’s honor.

Afterward, CJ and Owen took Mark and Brad out to eat. Although filming had been halted for a few days, the service was recorded. Over lunch, Brad brought up the incident with the cameraman.

CJ was simultaneously angry and dismissive. “Fuck him. He knew the rules. You were in charge, and he shouldn’t have challenged you. As for the camera, forget it. We have enough in the budget to replace it.”

Life at Heroes Haven slowly returned to normal, but Brad’s remorse continued to bother him. He rededicated himself to the documentary in hopes others like Henrik Green could be helped.

“So, what’s with learning Spanish?” Brad asked Lincoln when Aba left them with the baby to go greet neighborhood friends.

“I’m moving to Mexico. I requested an assignment to an embassy, and that’s where I’ll be by the end of the year.” Lincoln and Liebe apparently had a good relationship; the girl gurgled contently in his arms when he tickled her tummy with a huge finger.

“You’re gonna work for the State Department?” Brad was confused. Lincoln was an FBI agent. It was one of the reasons he had sought the man out this afternoon.

“With them, not for them. The FBI has agents in many of our embassies. It’s a collaborative effort designed to advance the interests of the United States.”

“Collaborative effort?” Brad chuckled. “You sound like a diplomat already. What made you ask for the posting?”

“I…” Lincoln paused for a moment, apparently searching for the right words. “Okay, this is between you and me. I don’t want my personal politics interfering with my work, although I’ve had similar conversations with CJ and Owen. I believe in diplomacy, Brad. President Trump undermined decades of hard work by good, dedicated men and women in our foreign service. He damaged relationships built over years and insulted allies while lavishing praise on dictators. I want to do anything I can to restore our country to its position as a respected leader of the free world.”

Brad was impressed. Lincoln spoke so well it made him jealous. Something else for the military veteran to work on: an improved vocabulary.

Lincoln adjusted Liebe’s position in his arms. “CJ often repeats something he heard that summarizes what I believe. He says that ‘Pumps and wingtips in the field help us avoid boots on the ground.”

“So you wanna be a pump in Mexico City?” The grin on Brad’s face ruined his intention of sounding serious.

“Jerk! I don’t do drag.”

“That comment sounded like something CJ would say. He probably came up with that himself and didn’t want to take credit for it.” Brad raised and shook his empty beer. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? I want to ask you a couple of questions.” He pointed at the bottle in Lincoln’s hand. “I’m gonna get another one. You want one?”

“Yeah, that’d be cool. No lime in mine.”

Everhope—the name CJ and Owen had given their home—was unique on a street lined with attached townhouses. It abutted an alley on one side and a courtyard on the other. Behind the residential structure, a two-story carriage house with a loft apartment spanned the entire width of the property.

The extensive rehabilitation of the home included a redesign of the patio. With CJ’s enthusiastic agreement, Owen insisted eco-friendly elements be incorporated. Brad had chuckled the previous day when Owen rattled off information about what they had accomplished. The man was a true environmentalist.

Turfstone pavers replaced the existing flagstones. Concrete blocks with diamond-shaped openings, they provided a solid surface to walk on, allowed ground cover to grow in the openings, and reduced stormwater runoff. Owen bragged about the tax credits they earned for the pavers and the seven-foot rain barrel at the back of the property.

Brad stopped at the bar staged in front of the flagpole and stared at the fluttering American flag atop it while waiting in the short line. Below the Stars and Stripes flew a custom-made banner with EVERHOPE printed on it. He knew his friends already had a half-dozen others they planned to fly at different times.

“You look good holding that kid.” Brad held out one of the Coronas he carried to Lincoln. “Like it’s not your first rodeo.”

“It isn’t. I’ve been doing this at least once a week since July.” Lincoln adjusted Liebe into the crook of his left arm, while the right one raised the bottle to his lips.

“For real?” Brad was surprised at the frequency.

“Yeah, man. My assignment to the DC field office ended in June. Since then, I’ve been training at the academy.”

“Quantico?” The small Virginia town south of Washington was home to Marine Corps Base Quantico. The base housed the FBI Academy, the principal research and training facility of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

“Yep. Since the schedule has a little flexibility, I’ve made it a habit of coming by here as often as possible. I take Aba and Liebe to lunch, and we don’t use English at all during our visits.”

“I see… So, when are you getting inked?”

Confusion was evident in Lincoln’s expression. “Getting inked? I don’t have plans for any more tats.”

“Start making them, big guy. You’re missing the tattoo.” Brad lifted the left sleeve of his polo shirt to show off his body art.

“The Squad? I’m not part of your little group.”

“Hell you ain’t. CJ and Ozzie have lots of friends, but The Squad’s family. If they let you hang out with their daughter that often, it means that’s what they consider you.”

“Didn’t all of you go to high school together? Isn’t that where your club started?”

“The OG group did, but Ozzie’s older than us. He moved to the US to go to law school.”

“I knew that.”

“Ethan went to law school with him and became a close friend. Ozzie also met Tank first since they played rugby together. And Carson, CJ met his first day at GU. They’ve praised the heck out of you since you dealt with the building inspector trying to shake them down. You’ve been invited to every family event since then, and they trust you with their daughter. Dude, you’re so in.”

Lincoln’s rich laughter attracted glances from some of the guests. “Bradley, your thought process’ amazing. I think I’ll wait until you all hold a meeting and officially vote me in.”

“Whatever, man. But I think you’re just delaying the inevitable.” Brad shook his head then sipped his beer.

“Earlier you said you wanted to ask me some questions?”

“Yeah… So, I’m going back to Heroes Haven this week. Primarily to arrange for a memorial marker in honor of one of our guys who died. Sometime this fall, I’ll be in New York for a bit to record narration. I may have to go back to Delaware for some of that too.

“Anyway, I’m going to apply to a couple of universities in the D.C. area this fall and maybe start school in January. I’d like to major in criminology or something like that.”

“That’s awesome, man. You know I got a degree in criminal justice from Wayne State University, right?”

“Yeah… That’s in Detroit, right?”

“Yep, home sweet home.”

“What do you think my chances of getting on with a department are?” Brad motioned with his bottle toward his artificial legs. He had worn shorts, and the titanium and carbon fiber prosthesis had drawn interest from people who did not know him.

“Law enforcement agencies are looking to diversify from straight white men.”

“Lot of good that does me.” Brad thumped his chest with a fist. “That’s me.”

“Yeah, but you’re a vet and handicapped.” Lincoln waved his beer bottle at Brad’s legs. “Even though you seem to walk okay, you could always end up with a desk job if your mobility’s restricted.”

Brad’s reply sounded borderline whiny. “I don’t want that. I wanna be out in the field. What I’d really love is to work for the Secret Service.”

“Well, they have plenty of desk jobs, but if you want to run around guarding politicos and foreign dignitaries, you’re probably gonna have to be able to run around. Not a stretch, mind you. Remember the guy from South Africa who competed in the Olympics?”

Brad nodded. “Oscar Pistorius. I’ve read everything I can get my hands on about him.”

“Can you do what he did? Use blades to run?”

“Working on it. One possibility’s to delay school until next fall and spend the year training.”

“How much pain do you deal with right now? If it’s significant, agencies may be scared you’ll get hooked on pain killers.”

“Not me. What with the opioids epidemic, I’ve made sure to stay away from them after the initial recovery. I do have some phantom pain. But acupuncture and massage help.”

“What’s your workout?” Lincoln’s questions probed enough Brad realized the man was not dismissing him. He sounded truly interested.

“I’ve started jogging a little. Nothing big since I’m still getting comfortable with the blades. I use a rowing machine and lift weights, and I want to try yoga. I read an article about a double amputee vet down in Florida who’s a yoga instructor. Name of Dan Nevins. It seems to help wounded veterans.”

“Can I be honest with you, Brad?”

“Please.” Brad liked the man more by the minute. Instead of just humoring him, Lincoln was willing to provide guidance.

“I think your mobility could be a problem. You may want to consider that delay and get completely comfortable with your legs. Once you’re in school, you’ll have less time to rehab. Get it out of the way first and then concentrate on studying and partying.”

Brad chuckled and shook his head. “If I had gone to college right after high school, I’d probably have done more partying than studying. That’s not as important these days. I want to concentrate on the future.”