Page 68 of Broken Wheels

“Wait. Don’t scroll yet.”

“Did I miss something?” Josh peered at the screen.

Dixon pointed to one part. AS brought in GDP today. Says he could be useful in the future. Others disagree. “Everyone else has been two initials. Except this GDP. Why?”

Josh rubbed his chin. “Maybe it’s something to denote his importance? Like a title or a rank?”

Rank….

Wait one goddamn minute.

Josh jerked his head to gape at Dixon. “GDP. General Dwight Porter?”

Dixon’s face flushed. “Motherfuck,” he snarled as he reached for his phone. He stabbed the screen twice, then placed it on the table.

“Cross.”

“I need you and Michael in my room, now.”

Josh had seen Dixon angry, but the muscles cording in his arms made him look as though he wanted to put his fist through someone’s face.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Gary disconnected.

“Can you calm down, please, and tell me what’s on your mind?”

Dixon pointed again at the screen. “If you’re right, and this is Porter’s name, then he was working with them a lot longer than we figured. He said the attack on CrossBow had nothing to do with him, so why is his fucking name on this list?”

Josh knew from experience that any words of comfort he might offer would only sound awkward. Instead, he stood and put his arms around Dixon, pulling him close. They stood like that for several moments, until a knock at the door had them springing apart. Dixon inhaled sharply, then went to the door. He opened it to find Michael standing there.

“Where’s Gary?”

“He’s a bit slower today than usual,” Michael said as he came into the room. “He’ll be along in a few minutes.”

That didn’t seem to help Dixon’s mood. “After we’re done here, I need to hit the gym,” he explained. “There’s a punching bag with my name on it.”

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked. “I’ve never seen you so angry.”

Dixon pushed out a humorless chuckle. “Ever find out something so awful, you wanted to dig up a grave and kill a son of a bitch all over again?”

Michael snorted. “Porter would be top of my list. He got off too goddamn easy. He should have rotted in prison for the rest of his miserable—” He widened his eyes. “Wait. Why are you asking?”

“We were going through the files. There are initials for names, each with two letters—except for one. That was listed as GDP.”

Josh could almost hear the click.

Michael’s cheeks grew mottled, his mouth a thin line. “That son of a bitch told us he took advantage, but he swore it wasn’t him that attacked us.”

“So he lied? Wow, big shocker,” Josh snipped.

“What if he didn’t?” Dixon retorted. “I mean, we know these people were aware of him, and we can only assume he knew about them. What if there’s one person running the show, and the rest were under him? Maybe Porter was working for one branch and didn’t know about the others?”

“What difference does it make?” Michael’s face was an unhealthy shade of red. “He’s dead. A little difficult to question him about it, don’t you think?”

“Actually….” Josh began, then clammed up. He did not want to do this. It would be like tearing a scab off a wound that had finally started to heal.

Two pairs of eyes met his. “Actually what?” Michael placed his hands on his hips. “Something you want to add?”

There was no way Josh could keep something potentially so big under his hat.