"That was almost two years ago. My wife had just passed away, and I'd been discharged from the Navy to take care of our son. I was completely overwhelmed."
He rubbed his face vigorously, a look of pain and lingering fear.
"So that gunshot that alarmed the neighbors and attracted the police wasn't an accident?" Jubal had seen enough retired soldiers like him who struggled to integrate into society to guess the reason.
Honestly, enlisting in the military is a good career path for ordinary Americans. While there are some barriers to entry, as long as you retire normally, the military will cover your retirement and health insurance.
So, as long as you don't sign rashly, participate in seemingly lucrative human experiments, or be unlucky enough to be sent to the front lines where you could be blown up by a roadside IED, or see a psychiatrist who prescribes you a bunch of random medications,
most soldiers can safely wait out their retirement and easily find a well-paid job at the police station in their hometown.
Therefore, despite the rumored 80% rape rate in the military, a large number of women still volunteered to join. After all, the happy upbringing they received early on wasn't enough to prepare these young people for better jobs amidst the competitive pressures of the insatiable influx of immigrants.
"You're right, I wanted to shoot myself, but I was so nervous that my fingers spasmed, and I ended up going off accidentally,"
Nathan Curtis sighed. Some things, once spoken, became less difficult to say. "That's when I went to Valerie for help."
"But we didn't see your name in her patient files." Jack couldn't detect any trace of lying in his expression.
"Yes, because we're friends, and she couldn't get me counseling, so she recommended me to her colleagues." Nathan Curtis looked at the two FBI agents across from him sincerely.
"But I'm still very grateful to her. Without her and her colleagues' help, I wouldn't have been able to get over that trauma."
These things weren't difficult to verify. There were several other people in the adjacent monitoring room. Soon, Jubal's phone received a text message. Clay had confirmed the story's authenticity from one of Valerie's colleagues.
"So where did the gun go?" Jubal continued.
"After that incident, Valerie was worried and asked for it. She locked it in her husband's gun cabinet, saying she would return it to me after I fully recovered."
Jack thought about what he had said before. "She didn't know you had other guns?"
"Yes," Nathan Curtis nodded. "But I swear, it was just to keep her from worrying. And after that, I completely forgot about the gun. Her husband also knew about it. You can ask him for confirmation."
"We will." Jubal glanced at Jack, motioning him to continue.
"So your relationship is more than just friendship, right? As a therapist, I'm sure that if your relationship was just friendship, Valerie wouldn't refuse to provide you with psychological counseling."
Jack's words made Nathan Curtis' face turn extremely ugly. He hesitated for a long time before admitting it with great reluctance.
"I admit we have feelings for each other, but it's only platonic. We've never had anything beyond friendship. I swear to God!
His husband is also a Marine. I could never allow myself to do something like that. It's utterly immoral!"
Seeing him getting incredibly emotional, Jack remained unmoved. Aren't there many dumpling lovers out there these days who try to steal their buddies' boyfriends?
Besides, this guy had previously said he wasn't very familiar with Commander Barnes.
"Before calling you in, we did some minor research. A witness reported that about two months ago, you and Valerie had an argument outside your children's school. Can you describe what happened?"
Jack asked, observing the man's micro-expressions. While such micro-expressions couldn't be used as evidence, and sometimes, even with good acting, weren't guaranteed to be reliable, they were still very useful interrogation techniques.
"It was just a minor dispute, and we reconciled it quickly. It was far from murderous," Nathan Curtis's expression told Jack, suggesting he was trying to conceal something.
"Then please continue. Convince us of your innocence with the facts," Jubal said, deliberately impatient to exert pressure.
"Well, this actually involves some private information about the Barnes family, but if you insist,"
Nathan Curtis reluctantly explained the situation under the gazes of the two men. "There's been a little problem between Valerie and Ryan (Barnes).
Whenever Ryan and Rachel get close, Valerie becomes very uneasy. I also noticed bruises on Rachel, so I confronted Valerie the other day."
"Why didn't you just report it to a child rights organization? Let them investigate?" Jubal pressed.
"Because she swore to me that it wasn't what I thought it was, that Ryan would never hurt Rachel."
Nathan Curtis' tone was somewhat resigned. "You know, in a sense, she saved my life. I owe her that. Do you understand what I mean?"
-
"How credible do you think Nathan Curtis's words are?" Jack walked into the adjacent monitoring room and asked the others for their opinions.
Clay looked a little confused. "When I took Lieutenant Colonel Barnes and Rachel to the safe house, I paid attention to and observed them, and I didn't notice anything unusual.
If you must say there's something wrong..."
He hesitated at this point.
"Go on," Aubrey urged.
"Well, maybe it's just my imagination. You know, I haven't had much time since I started studying behavioral analysis theory, and you guys always don't give me the opportunity to practice."
"Clay Spencer!" Everyone complained in unison.
"Okay." Clay raised his hands in surrender. "I have a feeling that the moment she saw her father, Rachel was so happy that she didn't look like a child who had just lost her mother."
"What did she look like?" Jack gestured for him to continue.
Clay hesitated as he recalled the scene he had witnessed, struggling to describe it in words. "She smiled an innocent and sweet smile, like a child who had just received candy and was very satisfied. Her smile was so innocent, yet it gave me the chills."
"What a terrible metaphor," Aubrey grumbled softly. "Isn't she just a ten-year-old girl?"
(End of this chapter)