Chapter 1159: The Truth About to Be Revealed (Patreon)

“That was almost two years ago. My wife had just passed away, I had retired from the Navy to take care of my son, and I was struggling to adjust.”

Nathan Curtis rubbed his face hard, every line etched with pain and residual fear.

“So the gunshot that startled your neighbors and brought the police wasn’t an accidental misfire?” Jubal had seen many veterans who failed to reintegrate into society, and he already had a good idea where this was going.

Truth be told, joining the military was still a decent option for many average Americans. It had its prerequisites, but for those who completed their service honorably, the benefits were decent—retirement pay, healthcare, and job assistance. Unless they were unlucky enough to get recruited for shady medical experiments, shipped off to IED-riddled frontlines, or prescribed a cocktail of medications after seeing military psychologists, most could look forward to a stable civilian life, often as a local police officer.

So despite stories about the military’s supposedly high sexual assault rates, there were still plenty of women signing up—after all, America’s feel-good education system hadn’t exactly prepared its youth to compete with the fiercely driven immigrant population in the real job market.

“You’re right,” Curtis admitted. “I was trying to shoot myself. But I was too nervous, my fingers spasmed, and the gun went off by mistake.”

He let out a long sigh. Some things, once said aloud, became easier to handle. “That was when I went to Valerie for help.”

“But we didn’t find your name in her patient records,” Jack noted. He didn’t detect any signs of dishonesty in Curtis’s micro-expressions.

“That’s because we were friends. She couldn’t treat me professionally, so she referred me to one of her colleagues.” Curtis met their gaze squarely. “But I owe her—deeply. Without her and her colleague’s help, I would never have made it out of that darkness.”

It wasn’t hard to verify. From the adjacent monitoring room, several others were listening in. Moments later, Jubal’s phone buzzed with a text—Clay had confirmed the story with one of Valerie’s colleagues.

“So what happened to the gun afterward?” Jubal pressed.

“Valerie was worried. She took the gun and locked it away in her husband’s gun cabinet. She said she’d return it once I had fully recovered.”

Jack remembered something Curtis had said earlier. “She didn’t know you had other firearms?”

“No.” Curtis nodded. “But I swear that was only to avoid worrying her. And I completely forgot about that gun afterward. Her husband knew about it too. You can ask him.”

“We will.” Jubal glanced at Jack, prompting him to continue.

“So, your relationship wasn’t strictly platonic, was it?” Jack said evenly. “As someone trained in psychology, I can tell you—if you were ‘just friends,’ Valerie wouldn’t have refused to treat you.”

Curtis’s expression darkened immediately. After some stammering, he reluctantly admitted, “We liked each other, yes—but only in a Platonic way. We never crossed any lines. I swear to God! Her husband’s in the Navy too—I couldn’t do that to a fellow service member. It’d be immoral!”

Jack remained unmoved. In his experience, these noble declarations were rarely airtight. The man had already admitted he wasn’t particularly close to Barnes.

“Before we brought you in, we did a little digging. A witness said that about two months ago, you and Valerie had a loud argument outside your children’s school. Care to explain?”

Jack kept a close eye on Curtis’s reactions. Micro-expressions weren’t admissible evidence, and a good actor could fool you—but they remained a valuable interrogation tool.

“It was just a minor argument, and we made up soon after. It was nowhere near murder-level serious.” Curtis’s face said otherwise—he was definitely hiding something.

“Then keep going,” Jubal said with feigned impatience. “Convince us with facts.”

“Fine. But it involves some of the Barnes family’s private issues. Only if you insist.”

Under their intense gaze, Curtis reluctantly spilled the rest. “There were... problems between Valerie and Ryan. Whenever he got close to their daughter Rachel, Valerie would get extremely uneasy. I also noticed Rachel had bruises—frequently. So I confronted Valerie that day.”

“Why didn’t you report it to Child Protective Services? Let them investigate?” Jubal asked pointedly.

“She swore to me it wasn’t what I thought. She said Ryan would never hurt Rachel.” Curtis’s voice turned helpless. “You have to understand—she basically saved my life. I owed her. Surely you can see where I’m coming from?”
——
“What do you think? How credible is Nathan Curtis’s story?” Jack asked as he stepped into the adjacent monitoring room to debrief the others.

Clay looked a bit conflicted. “When I escorted Colonel Barnes and Rachel to the safehouse, I paid close attention. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual between the two of them.”

“If you had to point out something odd?” Jack prompted.

Clay hesitated.

“Go on,” Aubrey urged.

“Okay, but it might just be me overthinking it. I’ve only just started learning behavioral analysis, and you guys never give me a chance to practice—”

“Clay Spencer!” The group chorused in mock exasperation.

“Alright, alright.” Clay raised his hands in surrender. “When Rachel saw her dad, she lit up—smiling ear to ear. But it wasn’t the kind of smile you’d expect from a kid who just lost her mother.”

“What kind of smile was it?” Jack asked, gesturing for him to elaborate.

Clay tried to piece the memory into words. “It was innocent, sweet—like a child who just got her favorite candy. Pure joy. But... it chilled me.”

“What kind of creepy metaphor is that?” Aubrey muttered under his breath. “She’s a ten-year-old girl, for God’s sake.”