Prison Scandal Exposed
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Prison Scandal Exposed - Annagail Lynes
~one~
Hush, little babies, don’t you cry. Mommy’s going to rock you ‘til you go night-night,
I sang to Lizzie and Danny, my fifteen-and-a-half-month-old twins, as I rocked them in my wheelchair in their nursery.
We arrived at our house in DC late last night after receiving the call from General Graham, our section chief at the Intergalactic Intelligence Bureau (I.I.B.)–a covert organization based in Washington, D.C.--that my husband, Nate, and I worked for–giving us the green-light to investigate the prison abuse scandal.
I glanced from Lizzie to Danny, noticing that they fought to keep their eyes open. Lizzie fought sleep more than her brother. I stroked her little cheek. She twisted her cinnamon brown hair around her finger. You don’t want to miss anything, do you,
I whispered, touching her gumdrop nose. You are just like your Mommy, you know that?
Lizzie smiled and then gave into the sleep. Rolling over to the cribs, I rose from my chair and place Danny in his. I walked Lizzie over to the other one and laid her in it. After returning to my wheelchair, I sat, putting my hand on my stomach.
When my sister-in-law, Joey, experienced complications in her pregnancy, I agreed to host her sons in my womb. Little did I know, I would become pregnant again three months later, with my own daughter. Thus, making it a double pregnancy and a long one, at that. Joey’s twins, Rj and Bj, shared the same placenta, but their placenta was too close to the cervix. Due to the complications that could occur, I had been strongly advised to stay off my feet as much as possible. Despite the state-of-the-art amenities that my wheelchair possessed, I still felt restricted, almost as if the chair was a prison.
An unidentified visitor is approaching the front door of the main house,
Sage, the house’s computer system, announced, breaking my train of thought.
Then I heard the knock at the doors. I glanced down at my watch and sighed. It was 1512 hours. I had finished my shift on the Liberty via teleconferencing at 1400 hours, fed the twins and put them down for their afternoon nap. I was ready to meet Nate, in the dining room to sort through the investigation reports on the prison abuse scandal, not to entertain visitors. Who could be at the doors?
In addition to being Federal Agents for the I.I.B, Nate and I also commanded the USS Liberty, the Freedom Alliance flagship, which served on the frontline of the Freedom Alliance-Crimson Fleet war. In 2100, all the branches of the Armed Forces now came under the rules and regulations of the Freedom Alliance, a United Nations-like organization. Fifty years later, a faction of the organization no longer agreed with those rules and broke away to form the Crimson Fleet, whose mission was to create a one-world, totalitarian government, thus sparking the war with the Freedom Alliance.
I moved my wheelchair out the doors and into the hallway.
Uncle Nate,
I heard a young woman squeal.
Turning the corner, I saw a woman throw her arms around Nate. She stood about 5'4, 5'6
at the most. Her frame–very thin. Although she did look as though she worked out. Her sandalwood hair reached to the middle of her back.
Nate broke away from her almost immediately and asked, Do I know you?
Uncle Nate, it’s me,
she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. You remember? Whenever Daddy and you would be on an all-night stake-out,
she described, put her arm around Nate and ushered him back into the house, you would take Daddy and I out to breakfast. You used to buy me bacon and eggs, and you would always make sure it looked like a smiley face.
When she spotted me, she ran down the hallway. Kneeling down beside me, she took my hands and exclaimed, Lucky Star, I am so glad I finally found you. Man, I can use your help. You were the only one who cared about me. Did you get my half of the pendant?
I snapped my hands away from her and retorted, folding my arms across my chest. So, I am supposed to what? Believe that you are Amy back from the dead? Because I can’t do that.
I gave her a sidelong glance and expressed, I can’t hope that Amy somehow survived. I watched her die. I was at the funeral.
I understand why you would be suspicious,
the woman agreed, standing up. She glanced back at Nate and then at me, wrinkling her nose. I came on too strong again,
she voiced, hitting the air. I always do that.
I exchanged a troubled look with Nate. Then I raised one eyebrow in a questioning slant and barked, If you are Amy, who did we bury that day? Who died in Cougar’s arms?
Could we all sit down somewhere,
she solicited, waving her hand in the air. I will explain everything. When I finish, I will leave.
Her eyes moving from me to Nate and back again. After you verify my story, which I know you will, if you want to see me again, you can contact me. Does that seem fair to you?
I gave her a long, searching look, running my eyes over her from head to toe. I had to admit she looked a lot like the little girl I used to sit for. She had Chandra’s oval face and jaw line, but her high cheekbones, Roman nose and mouth were Cougar’s. I peered up into her eyes, her icy blue eyes, and knew in my gut that I knew her. Whether she was the actual Amy or not, I wasn’t sure.
You’ve got ten minutes,
I decided, swinging my wheelchair around. I gestured her to follow me. I headed into the dining room and pulled over to the left side of the table.
Nate sat down at the head of it and took my hand. She pulled out the seat next to Nate and sank into it. How long have you two been together,
she started, laughing nervously. She shook her head. Oh, never mind, don’t mind me. I just say whatever pops into my head when I get nervous.
I laughed and remarked to Nate, Now that sounds like Amy. I remember one time I picked her up after school. Her eye was black, and her nose covered in dry blood. It took me a half hour to get her to tell me what happened.
And if I remember correctly, you got out of the car, found the boy who beat me up and had a stern talk with him,
Amy recalled, catching my gaze. Then you took me to Gina’s, where we shared a banana split.
If you are telling the truth, and you are Amy, you have nothing to be nervous about,
I coaxed her, tucking my hair behind my ears.
Yeah, if you are telling the truth, we will help you in any way we can,
Nate agreed. His eyes darted from her to me and back to her.
Did my Dad tell you that after I was born, my Mom went to Germany for a year to take care of my sick grandmother,
she started, gazing down at her hands and then back up at me.
He did mentioned something about Chandra leaving Amy with him for the first year, yes,
I remembered, cocking my head to the side. But what does that have to do with the crash?
My Dad’s brother, Isaiah, lives in Germany. As my Uncle tells it, while she was there, they had an affair. She became pregnant,
the woman continued, folding her arms across her chest. A spasm of irritation played on her lips. He says the baby and I looked so much alike that we could have been twins.
She seemed to still be upset by this. Was it because her mother had an affair? Or was it because she had a half-sibling?
What happened to the baby,
I prodded, removing my hand from Nate’s. I steepled my fingers, regarding this woman curiously. Was she really Amy? Was she telling the truth?
My Mom didn’t tell Uncle Isaiah and left baby Ruthie with her sister,
she went on, balled her hands into fists and tensed her muscles, so neither him nor Dad would find out. Uncle Isaiah did find out though.
And what did he do,
Nate questioned, resting his hands under his chin, elbows on the table. I watched Nate study her critically, almost as if he couldn’t decide whether she was or wasn’t Amy.
Uncle Isaiah and Ruthie flew to Washington D.C. to confront my Mother. But on the way to see Mom, they were hit by that drunk driver,
she replied, standing up. She walked from one end of the table to the other, hugging herself.
Before proceeding, she locked eyes with me. They couldn’t let Dad find out about Ruthie, so they let Dad believe that I died in the crash,
she admitted. Her face hardened, and her mouth crimped in annoyance. I could hear the bitterness in her voice. After a few seconds, she concluded, Dad buried Ruthie, and Uncle Isaiah took me home to Germany.
You are telling me we buried your mother’s love child that day,
I hissed, digging my nails into my palms. I felt my heart hammer, and my stomach knot just thinking about that day. Could this be true? Could any of it be true? Could Amy still be alive?
The woman nodded. What do I need to do to prove to you that I am telling the truth? I am assuming you will want a DNA test.
We will need to run it against Cougar’s DNA, against the person who died at the scene’s DNA, and against Zac’s DNA,
I listed, ticking them on my fingers.
How are you going to get the person who died at the scene’s DNA,
she countered, leaning against the bar that separated the dining room area from the kitchen. She didn’t seemed agitated or nervous at the prospect, which could be a sign that she was telling the truth.
Cougar cut off two locks of her hair at the scene. He said that he wanted him and I to have a tangible reminder of Amy,
I explained, twisting my hair around my finger. I don’t know what became of Cougar’s,
I added as I held her gaze, tapping the table with my index finger, but the other one is in this house.
She yanked out several strands of her hair, wincing, and handed it to me. I’ll be at my Mom’s house, if you need me.
With that, she marched out of the dining room and into the hallway. A few seconds later, I heard the doors slam.
What do you think,
I wondered, grabbing Nate’s hand. I intertwined my fingers with his.
I’m thinking she either is Cougar’s daughter or isn’t,
Nate returned, glancing back at the hallway.
Yeah, that’s the question,
I muttered, picking up her hair in my other hand. I guess, we should bag this and get it to the lab right away, Jag.
Nate and I called each other by our code names. I called him Jaguar, or Jag, for short, and he called me Peacock, or Peak, for short.
Nate mumbled, I guess we should.
After bagging the woman’s hair, I disappeared down the hallway and returned with the lock of hair from the scene. I put it in a separate bag. When Nate recovered from the shock, he drove to the lab and dropped off the samples and the instructions while I called Uncle Isaiah.
Mr. Madrid...Mr. Madrid....I do too know what it’s like to lose a child...no, I’m not talking about Amy...I am talking about...
I interrupted Isaiah Madrid’s ranting