Page 82 of Oddly Fine

“Right, and this involves you because as a psychiatrist, you’re fully qualified to take down the fucking head of a mob family,” Beckett said with a sneer.

“I’m not—which is why I called you!” Franklin snapped angrily. “I called you,” he repeated, but in a much quieter voice.

The guilt that Beckett had tried to bury suddenly reared its ugly head. Apparently, that feeling was more than he could handle at the moment because he chose to wait for his brother to explain himself.

“I knew you had contacts. Figured you’d know what to do, but when you didn’t answer my calls, I decided I couldn’t wait any longer for advice, so I called your boss.”

“Our boss?” Hayes asked, completely caught off guard. “Gill? You called Gill Forbes?”

Franklin nodded.

“How’d you know to call him?” Beckett asked, totally mystified. “Hell—scratch that, how do you even know who my fucking boss is?”

Franklin held up both hands in a calming gesture.

“I found his number in your phone after you came home from Europe. I didn’t like the whole set up. One minute you were going off to find yourself, and the next you’d been hired by this guy out of the fucking blue, suddenly becoming a federal agent for the United States government. I thought you’d either lost it, or were being scammed, so I found his contact information and called him.” Franklin didn’t appear to feel guilty at all for invading Beckett’s privacy.

“I’m sorry, you did what? What the fuck else did you do?” Beckett was livid.

“I met with your boss to make sure he was legit,” Franklin said, with a shrug.

“You had no fucking right!” Beckett exploded.

Hayes grabbed his shoulder to keep him in his seat. “You promised Kolinsky that you’d behave,” he reminded his boyfriend, which did nothing to lessen the tension in the room.

“You don’t remember how you were back then,” Franklin stated arrogantly, filled with self-righteousness. “You were completely out of it when you came back. You barely knew what month it was, or how to tie your fucking shoes. You weren’t exactly employable. When you told us you had a job, I thought it was a figment of your imagination. But when I found out Gill Forbes was a real person, I had to make sure he wasn’t some two-faced government prick who was using you as a scapegoat.”

“That’s the same as an escape sheep,” Hayes mumbled absently, unable to help himself. Franklin didn’t get it, but Beckett snorted at the inside joke, which helped to settle his nerves at least.

“I was looking out for you!” Franklin claimed, feeling this was all the defense he needed to get Beckett to back off.

Beckett looked unconvinced. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair, mulling things over.

“What happened after you called Gill?” Hayes asked.

“He called a buddy of his. An FBI agent by the name of Carter, and from there, well—” he gestured towards the agents in the living room, implying the rest is history.

“So, what—Matthew’s turning state’s evidence? How will that keep his family safe?” Hayes couldn’t figure out how that was supposed to work.

“The FBI isn’t all that concerned with the Rosarios. The DEA would certainly like to get the lowdown on their import business, but they have bigger fish to fry. Human trafficking is the main problem, which is what the FBI would like to get Matthew’s uncle for. They’ve struck a deal with Matthew. If he helps them get his uncle indicted on those charges, they’ll take care of him—get him and his henchmen off the street, so the Rosarios can go back to their more regular business.”

“Really?” Beckett looked surprised and confused.

“Most federal agencies prefer to deal with mobs rather than individuals. When you dismantle the structures in place, chaos usually follows. The FBI knows the Rosarios. They’ve been dealing with them for decades. If they take them out, someone will replace them, and that usually means a lot more violence.” Hayes wasn’t an expert on this subject, but he’d read quite a few criminology books about tactics used by federal agencies.

“Alright—but why the suicide?” Beckett said, shaking his head.

“Because if his uncle gets suspicious, he’ll want something to hold over Matthew and the easiest would be—”

“Someone he loves,” Beckett finished for him, with a deep sigh. “His family knows about you?” he asked, and Hayes could tell he was trying not to sound judgmental, but it was costing him.

“No—but it wouldn’t be hard to figure out if his uncle decided to check up on Matthew’s recent activities. One look at his finances or his phone records would tell him that Matthew was seeing someone,” Franklin said, with the resolve a man who had considered all the options many times over. “The FBI thought the suicide scenario was the best way to go and, since they want me to testify if they manage to indict the uncle, they need to keep me safe.”

At that, Beckett burst into maniacal laughter and almost fell out of his chair.

“Testify?” Beckett asked, completely gobsmacked. “I’m sorry, but I gotta ask: has wearing cement shoes always been a dream of yours? ‘Cause there’s easier ways to make that happen!”

“If they manage to indict his uncle, I’d only be testifying to solidify Matthew’s innocence. I wouldn’t technically go up against the Rosario family. Agent Carter thinks I should be fine—”