Speak in Winter Code

Home > Other > Speak in Winter Code > Page 27
Speak in Winter Code Page 27

by S. M. Harding


  I put my hands on her shoulders, turned her around. “If you don’t want me to take Des and move into Bloomington until the end of the semester, talk to me now.”

  “You don’t mean that. You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Yes. I do. I would. You’re stewing about something. If you don’t trust me enough to talk about it, then find a therapist. I saved the card before I put your shirt in the laundry. You want it?”

  She shook her head. “Give me a little more time—”

  “No! Spill the beans or I start packing.”

  “You’re bullying me, Win.”

  “No. I’m just tired of tiptoeing around you. We haven’t made love in more than a week. That’s another milestone and not a good one. What the hell have you got to lose?”

  She leaned into me. Put her arms around my waist. “Don’t take away the one thing I’m sure of. Please.”

  “The one thing?”

  “Your love. Your presence in my life, in our bed, even if we don’t make love. You’re at the center of my life, Win. Please.”

  “Is that it? Is it that the sheriff’s department used to be the center?”

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “No.” I took her hand and led her to the couch. “I understand the impulse to handle it yourself. When you’re in a command position, that’s what you do. But not with what’s eating you up on the inside. Or don’t you really trust me?”

  “I trust you with my heart,” she said, her eyes wide. She fidgeted. “This is something I’ve wrestled with a long time, even before we got together. I worked hard, pushed myself to be the best cop ever. Dumb, huh?”

  “No. Idealistic. Dedicated.”

  “Well, that was me. When it became evident how Mac was damaging the sheriff’s office, a group of other dedicated officers got together. We had to run someone against Mac and I got the short straw. It was fine with me because I could take the crap and know it was crap. And I didn’t think I had a chance in hell to win.”

  “You cleaned up the department from what I’ve heard,” I said.

  Sarah nodded. “A lot of housecleaning, which is a good detail job for a woman. About two years in, the weight of the badge started to hit. We had a couple of horrendous cases where good people did appalling things. Those cases rested on my shoulders, not just to solve, but somehow rectify. I know what you’re going to say—I have a whole department to share the load. But that’s not how it feels.”

  “But you ran again.”

  “Only because Dad backed me into the wall. I signed the forms because he got me so mad.” She took a deep breath. “It’s a huge responsibility to have people’s lives in my hands, both the victim and the perpetrator.”

  “Like the girl who committed suicide because she was gang raped?”

  She nodded. “But it’s all the weight. Duty decisions, budget, the stupid crimes that destroy lives, how thin we’re stretched. Had I known what I was signing up for the first time, I don’t think I would’ve.”

  “Wow. I had no idea. You ran because you thought you’d lose?”

  Sarah nodded, tucked her head onto my chest. Whispered, “My secret. I didn’t think I was ready.”

  “But you pour your whole being into the job…”

  “I can’t fail the people who elected me.” She burrowed deeper. “It’s more a love-hate relationship. I love putting the bad guys away. I love justice. Most people in the county are good. If we don’t stand between them and the criminals, then who does? I’m good at what I do. In a lot of ways, I love my job. I just hate the responsibility of making it all work.”

  I put my arm around her and kissed the top of her head. We sat a long time, breathing together. I took the shrink’s card from my pocket and handed it to Sarah. “You need someone to help you sort. This is beyond my skillset. Will you do it? For us? For the kids? But most of all, for you?”

  She looked at the card like it was laced with anthrax. “I’ll go once. If I don’t like her, I’m not going back.”

  “Once is better than never.” I kissed her. With this attitude, I doubted if she’d ever go back to a shrink she was determined to dislike.

  * * *

  “They’re bugging out,” Bill said. “We’ve been keeping the farm under surveillance, eyes on the ground and in the sky. All of ’em should be gone by tomorrow late. This time, we have the advantage. We can tail the bastards and listen in to their fucking chatter.”

  “That’s a load off. I kept waiting for something to happen. A jailbreak. Or an RPG through the front window of the sheriff’s station. Some kind of revenge.”

  “Well, that’s the other part of the news. Their ‘strategic re-deployment’ will end with ‘the last word,’ or so they say.”

  “What does that mean?” My stomach did a flip.

  “Don’t know. They’re leaving four guys behind to deliver their surprise, and then they’ll catch up to the main detachment. It may be nothing, Win.”

  “Yeah, right. What kind of firepower do they have?”

  “Nolan didn’t see any trace of advanced weapons. Not even RPGs.”

  That was good. No dirty bombs. No Sidewinder missiles. Still… “Four guys.” I thought how much havoc four trained fighters could wreak. “You better dig on this, Bill. Talk to Tom—he’s going to testify against the other kidnapper.”

  “We’ll do everything we can. You know that. I’m sending backup.”

  “You better send a fucking battalion.” I tried to calm the knot my stomach had become. “Tell Sarah. I’m not delivering this news.”

  I hung up with sheer dread surrounding me like a fishnet. I was trapped in horrendous scenarios that raced through my mind, each worse than the next. Why the hell hadn’t I told Sarah to quit? Run for the hills? Except for Bill’s limited intel, we were riding blind this time. Why the fuck couldn’t they let us alone?

  I called Micah. “Hell’s bells,” he said. He was silent for a full minute. “Got eyes on that old depot, down at Ridley Forge. Trains comin’ in regular an’ deliverin’ somethin’. Rumor goin’ ’round, sayin’ the army’s started it back up, usin’ it to finish up the depot down in Kentucky. Possible, Win?”

  “At this point, I have no idea. Bill’s holding his intel close.” I started pacing. “But, yeah. I guess it’s possible. Thought the one in Kentucky had been closed too. Hope to hell they’re not shipping nerve gas across the country.”

  He was silent again. “If those punks are leavin’, mebbe they gone an’ give up on the depot and McCrumb County.”

  “Maybe.” I stopped pacing, stared out the window. “Sarah’s going to implode.”

  He was quiet again. “Can’t do nothin’ but be there for her, Win. Give whatever aid she’ll accept.”

  I knew he heard the frustration in my voice when I said, “Sometimes your daughter isn’t very comfortable accepting help.” I leaned my head against the windowpane. “Keep up your surveillance on the depot, if you would. And keep your fingers crossed.”

  I called Nathan. “You get any intel on the county, you shoot it to Sarah,” I said without a preamble. “Bill’s playing this too close to the vest. Sarah could get hurt. Or worse.”

  “That’s what I’ve been thinking too,” he said. “Consider it done.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Sarah

  “What the hell’s going on, Win?” were my first words when I got home from work.

  She looked up from her veggie prep. “What happened to ‘Honey, I’m home’?”

  “Win look at me. Tell me what’s going on.”

  She kept her head down. “Bill called, I told him to call you with his intel. Then I called Nathan. Told him to shoot you any chatter he’s picking up. Bill’s not sharing much. Nathan agreed. That’s all I know.”

  Win still didn’t look at me. I’d hurled all the day’s frustration and anger at her. I hung my jacket and duty belt on pegs by the door and I took several deep breaths before I walked into the kitchen and sl
ipped my arms around her waist. “I’m sorry. What an awful thing to say first thing home.” I turned her around and saw the scar on her forehead was bright red. I touched it softly.

  She didn’t say anything and I felt her muscles tighten. “What are you making?”

  “No idea.” She started on a carrot. “I needed to do something. I cut veggies. You can put them in a casserole or eat them raw. I don’t care.”

  I released her, walked to the bathroom and took a long shower. She was really pissed at me and probably with good reason. I was so tired of all of this, and tired of being tired. I hadn’t been sleeping well, though for the life of me, I couldn’t remember any dreams.

  I got out, toweled off and put on my sweats and socks. When I walked back into the kitchen, she was still chopping. I took a deep breath. “Vegetable soup?”

  “Told you, I don’t care.”

  “And I told you I was sorry.” I pulled out our stockpot, put some butter on the bottom and turned on the burner. I started collecting the veggies strewn over the top of the island into a colander. Win hadn’t started on the onions yet, so I diced one and a couple of chilies. I threw them in the pot and turned to her. “I am sorry. I had no reason to yell at you.”

  Win stopped chopping. “No you didn’t. I did exactly what you’ve asked me to do, stepped away and told Bill and Nathan to talk to you directly. They evidently think there’s a continuing threat. More pressure just when you felt it was all over. I understand, Sarah. But don’t ever use me as your whipping boy.” She bent back to her task.

  “Don’t shut me out. Please.”

  “Shut you out? What the hell do you think you do to me?” She slammed her chopper onto the counter. “It’s like digging to China to get you to talk to me, Sarah. Endless. Impossible.”

  “I don’t have to answer your questions.”

  “You don’t have to live here either.” Win looked away, crossed her arms and shook her head. “We’re sniping at one another. I’m sorry. I’m trying to do what you want me to do, but it’s hard to figure out what you want. Do you know?”

  I took a shaky breath. “No. All I feel is a deep desire for this damn pressure to be over.”

  Win walked over to the pot, stirred it and then turned to me. “Let’s get this soup cooking. Sit down and talk. Can we do that?”

  I nodded. We made short work of adding all the ingredients and broth, then sat on the couch with a cushion between us. Win’s words still stung.

  “Do you really want me to move out?” I asked, afraid of hearing Win’s answer, but afraid not to.

  “Of course not. That was just a response to ‘I don’t have to answer your questions.’ I regretted the words as soon as I said them. I’m sorry.” Win turned to me and put her arm on the back of the couch. “I really don’t know where you are. You’ve become so quiet. I don’t know where you want me to be. Covering your back? At your side? At home being safe?”

  “All of the above,” I said, touching her hand on the back of the couch. “I want you safe, always. At the same time, I need your strength and skill. Why the hell are they doing this? I don’t even know what ‘this’ is, Win. I’ve never dealt with this kind of crap before.”

  “Don’t fight me, please. Do you want my analysis on this latest intel? Or shall I join you with our heads in the sand?”

  “That’s not fair. If my head was in the sand, we’d all be dead from their last attack.” I leaned my head back. “Give me your analysis.”

  “If I put myself in the insurgents’ place and I were running an op against local authority, I’d wait a while. If this was the Middle East, then I’d attack with a suicide bomber or two. I don’t think these guys are willing to do that. How about a fertilizer bomb like Oklahoma City?”

  I felt like she’d hit me over the head with a dread stick. “Oh, hell. We can’t close the square or put Jersey barriers up all over town.”

  “Why not? Announce that the city planners are thinking about making the square a pedestrian-only space,” Win said.

  “The business owners would roast us,” I said. “Including Tillie. They depend on the on-the-street parking. Especially if nothing happens, they’d be furious.”

  Win shook her head. “They’ll be more upset if the sheriff’s station blows up and takes that whole side of the square with it. Plus…”

  “Plus what?”

  “These guys like to use secondary explosions that injure first responders.”

  I closed my eyes, but it was too late because tears were flowing freely. “This is too much, way too much. How can I protect the public and our people from something like that?”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Win and Sarah

  Win

  I left the Bloomington campus right after class on Thursday. CELI was having a full day of meetings tomorrow. For full-time faculty. While I wondered what was going on, I was glad I didn’t have to go. I had another agenda on my mind—Sarah’s welfare.

  After I made it through the door at home, assured Des of my love, I looked at Sarah at the stove. She looked exhausted—shoulders slumped, movements slow. I walked behind her and put my arms around her. Kissed the back of her neck.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” she said. “Safe.”

  “Anything new?”

  “Check your email. Nathan said he was sending you some stuff.”

  “Nathan? Why didn’t he send it to you?” I felt her stiffen.

  “Because I’m too tired to make any sense of it,” she said. “I’ve had a couple of sleepless nights.”

  “You missed me?”

  “So much, Win. So much. I kept having nightmares that those skinheads in Bloomington would beat you until you’re nothing but a pulpy mass of blood and bones.”

  I tightened my embrace. “Haven’t heard from them lately, students haven’t either.” I turned her around. “Why don’t you go shower then get into bed. I’ll bring dinner in.”

  “Dinner in bed? I don’t know if I can stay awake that long.”

  “That’s what the shower’s for. Now go.” I watched her go down the hall, not sure if she’d make it. Swell. Sarah needed to be on top of her game and she wasn’t. She was barely vertical.

  I put two mini-loaves of French bread in the oven, sniffed the soup and added a few spices. Got out two bowls that I’d found in Brown County last fall. I’d bought them because they had lids. For times like this.

  I heard the shower going and figured I had a few minutes. I resisted looking at Nathan’s email. I’d wait until the first thing in the morning. When the oven dinged, the water stopped in the bathroom. Perfect timing.

  We’d eat. Make love. Sleep.

  Sarah

  Last night had been soul-deep wonderful and I’d slept like a log. I woke up to find Win at her desk, going over the emails Nathan had sent. “Find anything?” I asked, yawning.

  “Coffee’s ready,” Win said. “Nothing that makes sense. What time do we have to go in?”

  “We?”

  “I’m coming with you. I can’t access the databases here.” She grinned. “That sounds like a country-and-western song, doesn’t it? ‘Been searchin’ fer my true love an’ I ain’t got no databases left.’”

  I poured a mug of coffee. “You’re giving country music a bad name.”

  I walked to the desk and stared at the screen. “I repeat—find anything?”

  “Not finished yet.” She pulled me close. “So far, Nathan identified three of the four men who’ve stayed behind. I went ahead and sent the pics to the station for a BOLO—eyes only. Okay?”

  I nodded. “If you were in Afghanistan, what would you do with those men?”

  She took a deep breath. “Pick them up for interrogation. If we couldn’t pick them up, kill them. But Sarah, they’d be firing back at us.”

  I felt chilled. She’d said it so matter-of-factly. I sipped my coffee.

  Win turned to me. “That’s in-country. I wouldn’t do that here. Even though the stakes are the same.
Collateral damage. Bombs take out people who don’t have diddly to do with any cause. Think of Boston.”

  “All the violence is just bewildering. I don’t understand how people can think about wiping out the maximum of human lives.”

  “I’m still working on understanding taking one life,” Win said, taking my hand. “Yet, I’ve done it. Multiple times. Never an assassination, always under combat conditions.”

  I put the coffee down, leaned down to kiss her. “Think they’d go away if I resigned?”

  “No.” She scrolled down the intel. “Any way to track the fertilizer purchases in the county?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. This is primarily a farming county and I can track thefts, but not purchases.”

  She nodded. “Then we’ve got nothing.” She turned to look up at me. “Rumor has it that Bill’s got eyes on these guys. We’ll see.”

  Win

  Friday morning had been quiet. We’d stationed deputies atop buildings where streets entered the square, but when a domestic call turned wicked, Sarah released them for normal duty. I wished she hadn’t, but what the hell were they supposed to be looking for? A Ryder truck? Guys with big backpacks?

  I leaned against the wall by the newly reinstalled window in Sarah’s office. Watched the square, looked for disaster to appear and hoped it was clearly visible ahead of time. I glanced at Sarah. Still working her way through paperwork. May the blizzard of paper be her worst concern.

  A UPS truck stopped, then backed up over the curb at the back of the courthouse. “Is that usual?” I asked.

  Sarah looked up, got up to stand beside me. “The UPS truck? No, they usually block the street.”

  We watched the driver step down from his seat with a clipboard and several packages. He began to trot around to the front. His cap was down low and he wore sunglasses.

  “Is the courthouse back door locked?”

  “No, it’s always opened when the courthouse is open. Maybe it’s a new driver and he doesn’t know.”

  “I don’t like this, Sarah.” I started out the office door to the bullpen when I saw a flash and the ground shook. The truck disappeared in a dense cloud. I stumbled, caught Sarah as she pitched into a desk.

 

‹ Prev