Page 117 of Airborne
He tapped his right fingers on the table, a gesture she’d viewed in Thomas. “My brother was calculating as a boy, vindictive, too. I imagine those traits worsened with the abuse he received from our father and the bullying at school.”
“Sir, can you back up a little?” Heather said. “I’m not following.”
“Would you like to hear the whole story?”
“Yes, please.”
He moistened his lips. “Our father believes music is life. From the moment we were born, Thomas and I were subjected to listening only to classical music. As soon as we could talk, instruction began with hours of practice. I inherited our father’s music ability. Thomas did not. He failed at learning to play an instrument and at vocal attempts, while I excelled in violin, piano, and cello. Thomas chose reading and science above any interest in music. Father ridiculed him, and I became the favorite. As long as I made Father happy and performed to his musical preference, I was given everything I wanted.
“I’m sorry. This story is difficult. Our mother tried to protect Thomas. She encouraged his interests and became his champion when Father verbally and physically attacked him. Father turned his contempt on her, too, always throwing a wobbly about something. We were a family at war. Thomas wasn’t healthy and stuttered, more reasons for our father to shame him.
“I mimicked my father regarding Thomas but not our mother. At one point, Thomas contracted rheumatic fever and missed six weeks of school. Father said the disease should have killed him. I never forgot Thomas telling me he hoped one day a horrible sickness killed our father. Although I sided with our father on many occasions, his actions were harsh, cruel. I was afraid if I stepped in for Thomas or Mother, I’d become the next victim.
“The stuttering problem grew worse. At our eighth birthday party, our father asked me to play the cello. One of the boys asked what instrument Thomas played, and Father said all he knewhow to do was talk like an idiot and imitated Thomas’s speech. The news spread around school. The bullying against Thomas increased. Our father said and did unspeakable things to him.” He rubbed his palms together. “We’d go out to eat or to a movie, and Father would demand Thomas stay in the car because he was an embarrassment. On our eleventh birthday, Father left with me to England. To the best of my knowledge, he never contacted my mother or Thomas again.”
Pity rolled through Heather for Thomas’s miserable childhood. The abuse by no means justified murderous actions, but his background showed how mental degradation could have developed. “You said Thomas had threatened you and your father. Tell us more.”
“Last January he phoned our father in London. His words were ‘You and Jackson will pay for abandoning Mom and me. Both of you.’ I urged Father to talk to someone at the MPS—London Metropolitan Police Services—or a barrister. Father ignored me. He still thinks of Thomas as the little boy who disappointed him, and as he told your agent, he has but one son.”
“And you?”
“From what I’ve learned, Thomas is highly intellectual and successful.”
“If your brother had your contact information, why didn’t he follow through with his threat in London? Why even call?”
“I don’t know. If he did envision our demise, I assume the crowd at the music festival and the numerous countries represented offered Thomas a means to blend in while carrying out his actions.”
Jackson made sense. But many questions lingered. “Are you afraid of your brother?”
He hesitated. “As boys, he displayed peculiar behavior.” He stared at the wall before him. “Cruelty to animals. He’d drawpictures of killing people, rather gruesome. He bullied children younger than us.”
“Were any of his actions aimed at you?”
“I’d rather not say. Happened a long time ago, and when I think back on how he was treated, I feel nothing but remorse.” Anguish etched his features. “During my stay, I plan a drive to Dallas to see where our mother is buried, one of the reasons for my trip. She never showed partiality or said a condemning word about our father.”
Heather forged ahead. “You never checked on your mother?”
“I saw no reason.” He buried his face in his hands. “I was busy, selfish, and time passed. I must make amends with Thomas. I’ll stop by his office once we’re finished here.”
ASAC Mitchell, who’d been quiet to this point, cleared his throat. “Mr. Powell, we appreciate your cooperation. We are investigating your brother on a matter of extreme importance. It’s in our best interests and yours to discourage a face-to-face at this point. We prefer noncommunication with Thomas until our case is concluded.”
Jackson gripped his hands. “What is his suspected crime?”
“That’s confidential.”
“He hasn’t been charged or he’d be in custody. Sir, I’m no fool, and my guess he’s a suspect in a serious incident. In any event, I need to settle the past and petition my brother for forgiveness.” He peered into Mitchell’s face. “I am committed to restoring my relationship with Thomas.”
“How long are you in the States?”
“Ten days but I’m willing to stay longer.” Jackson’s gaze swung from Mitchell to Heather. “Ma’am, you were in quarantine with Thomas. I gather you know him? Do you feel he’s dangerous?”
“We became friends. I can’t confirm his threats, but I don’t think you should ignore them. How did he respond to your father’s bullying? I’d like specifics.”
“Withdrew to his room. We didn’t share a room. Our father believed separation fueled my music ability.”
“Tears?”
“At first, but after a few instances, he appeared resigned to Father’s demands. Emotion escaped him. Frightening, and I often wished I could read his thoughts.”
