by Rachel Lee
With a clearer head, he grew dubious about what he was doing here. As he ate a large breakfast, he wondered what he hoped to accomplish. Yes, he wanted justice for Larry. Yes, he wanted the killer behind bars on a murder charge. Yes, he’d been furious and aching with grief since he got the news.
But what was he going to do?
It wasn’t as if he had a list of Larry’s contacts here. As he’d been running the streets of this pleasant town late yesterday, he’d calmed down a bit and really looked around. No matter what he did, he was going to be a visible stranger in these parts.
Why should anyone talk to him? Maybe a few of Larry’s acquaintances here might, but how was he to find them? Larry was a meticulous note taker, so maybe he had some contacts at his home. Or maybe the cops had them.
Damn.
As he ate, gloom crept up again. He needed to fight for Larry, but he’d been stupid. His mission strategy had been essentially zip. Get out here and talk to people. Right. What people?
Maybe he could get Cat to give him some names, but considering the resistance he’d felt in her yesterday, he wasn’t hopeful. Naturally she resented him thundering onto her turf. How would he have felt if she’d shown up at Fort Benning and made demands of him?
He’d have resisted, too.
He stared down at his plate, still holding eggs, bacon and home fries that he no longer wanted to eat. He forced himself to chew and swallow. A soldier learned to eat whenever the opportunity showed up, and he loathed wasting food anyway. He’d seen too many people who didn’t have enough to fill their bellies.
So what now, genius? he asked himself.
Yesterday when he’d been running, he’d imagined Larry on these same streets. It had proved hard to do. Larry was a big-city guy, associated for much of his career with major daily newspapers. He thrived on the action both in his work and in his environment. He collected interesting stories from many he met, just because he was that kind of guy, truly interested in other people.
He remembered Larry saying once, “Everybody has a story, Dan. Most of them are fascinating.”
Larry had lived as hard as he had worked, fearless and daring. This town just didn’t seem like him at all. At least from what Duke had seen.
Which wasn’t much. He faced it—he was going into this mission mostly blind. It couldn’t be helped by learning a language, adopting local dress and eating local food so he wouldn’t smell different to people.
It was vastly more complicated. He was out of place, and people around here would figure that out. They’d be rightfully suspicious about him hanging around, and not even the excuse of preparing a funeral or a burial would give him enough cover. Definitely not if he started asking questions.
Nor was three weeks necessarily long enough to solve a case.
Anger and frustration goaded him anew. He had to do more than that. Larry deserved more than being boxed and put in the ground.
And nothing, but nothing, could make up for their estrangement. They’d both had a part in it, but Duke had still been simmering when he got the news about Larry. Still unable to find his way back. Hell, they had been two brothers locked in separate notions of what had been right.
He pushed that away, too. It would do no good now.
Outside the rain continued to fall.
* * *
CAT STARTED TO get uneasy when the morning passed without Duke showing up or her phone ringing. Was he out attempting some kind of investigation without telling her? She hated to think she’d have to rely on people around here telling her what he was doing.
And tell her they would. Or tell any deputy. He was an unknown man from unknown parts, and they’d gossip. Or if he made anyone uneasy, they’d call or walk in the office door.
Whatever he was doing, nobody found it remarkable enough to pass it along to the office.
Thank goodness.
Twice she pulled out her cell to call him but changed her mind. After yesterday, she didn’t want to seem ridiculous. There had to be some trust on her part, or he might decide he was done with her and the whole department.
But she remained uneasy. Finally, she decided that if he didn’t call her by noon, she would call him.
Satisfied, she made some busywork for herself at the office, all the while yearning to go back to regular duty. She couldn’t even go complain to Gage about this impossible task, because he hadn’t come in yet. Probably out talking to someone.
Not that she would complain. Nope, she prided herself on not being the type.
Shortly before noon, she could barely rein her impatience, but then Duke walked through the door. She summoned a smile, opening her mouth to speak.
He forestalled her. “I was over at the mortuary. They don’t have any release date for Larry’s body.”
“The state has him,” she answered. “We don’t have the kind of forensics here that they have.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say more than “Can we get coffee?”
She grabbed her yellow uniform rain jacket. “We can go to Maude’s if you don’t mind a lunch crowd. Or we can go to Melinda’s Bakery. She has a handful of tables for people who want to enjoy coffee and pastry, although at this time of day she’s probably nearly sold out of baked goods.”
Remarkably, he hesitated. While she’d known him less than a day and her experience of him was literally a couple of hours, he didn’t strike her as indecisive.
“Or,” she said reluctantly, “we can go to my place, where no one might overhear.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Very generous.”
“Well, I don’t know what you want to discuss. You decide how much privacy you need.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
Which was probably as good as saying he didn’t want the diner or the bakery for this discussion.
“My place it is,” she answered. “You got a car?”
“I walked here from the motel.”
“Can’t cage the beast, huh?”
A flicker of humor appeared then was gone. “Nope.”
“Let’s go.”
The distance to her house wasn’t that great, but given it was raining, she didn’t feel like walking it as she often did. Plus, the sooner they got to her house, the sooner they could get this conversation underway and she could stop wondering if he was about to lob a bomb.
The drive was short enough but worth it just to watch him fold his way into her subcompact. She almost grinned, but he succeeded.
Once at her house, she started a pot of coffee and invited him to sit at her small kitchen table. There was room for a larger table, but it was the one her mother had used for many years, and it was enough for her.
He sat on one of the chairs that had a steel frame and a vinyl-covered seat. A relic of the ’50s or ’60s, she believed.
While the drip coffee maker hissed and gurgled, she sat facing him. “What’s up?”
“Well, there’s my brother. I get he was murdered, but what’s taking so long?”
“All I can say is that it shouldn’t be much longer. I don’t know the timetable. I’m not sure anyone in the office does, but I’ll ask.”
“Thanks.” He pushed the chair back so he could cross his legs, ankle on knee. “I have another question. I’d like to see where my brother was living. Have you people released it yet?”
“Hoping to find some information?”
“It’s possible.”
God, she didn’t want to say this, but she was going to have to because there’d be no other way. “It may have been. But... Duke? Are you sure you want to see it? Nothing’s been cleaned up. You should hire someone...”
He shook his head. “I’ve seen worse.”
She frowned. Her heart skipped unhappily. “You may have seen worse, Duke, but worse wasn’t your brother.”
* * *
THE WORDS HIT Duke hard. He felt his own head jerk a little in shock. He was getting warned about something far worse than he’d imagined. Shot? He’d seen plenty of gunshot victims. She had to know that, so what was she warning him about?
And she was right. Before this, it hadn’t been his brother.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked quietly. “What are you concealing?”
He watched her look away briefly. Then slowly her gaze returned to him. “It was ugly. I can’t provide any details until we get the full report, but there’s a reason we didn’t give it to our local coroner. Can we just leave it at that for now?”
Black rage filled him, a rage so black that for a little while he didn’t see Cat or the room around him. His hands clenched as if he could wrap them around someone’s throat. God, he wanted to. Badly.
He closed his eyes, forcing the fury down into an internal box he’d had to use many times. It contained all the seething dark things inside him, the only place he could store them.
“I see.”
“Do you?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, I do.”
She compressed her lips, then opened them to speak. “Most people don’t go back to where a tragedy like this happened. They stay away until cleaners come in to deal with it. There are some things people don’t want seared into their minds.”
“I get it.” He certainly did. “But I’ve seen it all, I think.”
“You probably have. But not when it’s your brother.” She spoke emphatically.
The anger threatened to escape his control once again, but it wouldn’t be fair to level it at this woman. She was doing her job as best she could. As for Larry...it was true, he didn’t want to see it, but he didn’t know how he could avoid it.
He drew a long breath, then said, “You don’t want me to see it because you’re afraid of what I might conclude. What I might see with experienced eyes.”
A spark flared in her blue eyes. “Eyes experienced with a battlefield, not with a crime. You might draw the wrong notions about things. I’ve seen a lot, too, Duke, and I wouldn’t reach conclusions until we get the forensics report.”
As his anger settled back into the dark box, he admitted she had a point. He didn’t have to like it, but she had one.
“What about Larry’s contacts?” he asked. “I assume you know who they are. That you pulled every bit of information out of his place that you thought might be useful. You can tell me about that.”
Her blue eyes sharpened as they studied him, making him feel almost like a bug under a microscope. Then she rose, pulled a couple of mugs out of the cupboard and poured coffee. “You like it black?”
“Yes.”
He was still waiting, wondering if she was going to stonewall him. He watched her return with the mugs and sit down. He reached for his and cradled it in both hands. Hot. It was hot, and his fingers were not.
Eventually she spoke. “I’m going to give you one name. He’ll tell you what he chooses. He’s not a suspect, because he was out of town during the time frame of the murder.”
He forgot everything else. “Who?”
“Ben Williams. Larry’s boyfriend.”
* * *
CAT WATCHED SHOCK hit him again. She leaned forward at once, a new conviction growing.
“You know him?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head and put his mug down on the table. “I served with a Ben Williams. He left the Army a couple of months or so before...”
He stopped.
“Before what?”
“It’s not relevant. Thing is, I introduced a Ben Williams to Larry one night about four years ago when we were all at a bar. They hit it off. Then Ben resigned his commission sometime later and I never saw him or heard about him again. It can’t be the same man.”
“Maybe not. I wouldn’t know. I do know Ben moved here more than two years ago.”
“That could be him. But why here?”
“I seem to remember he grew up here.” She was trying to digest the possible ramifications if this was the same man. “Larry and Ben were quiet about their connection, though. I don’t think many people even guessed they were an item. Ben never went to the card games, and I’m not aware of the two of them hanging out in public.”
“Then how’d you find out?”
“Because Larry told me in passing, then asked me to sit on it. I’m not sure if it was one beer too many or if he just needed to tell someone. I had to share it when Larry died, obviously.”
“Of course.”
She could sense him thinking and she was doing the same. If Ben was the same guy Duke knew, and Ben and Larry had known each other long ago... Well, what did it mean?
She spoke again, sorting through what she knew. “Ben was in Gunnison visiting friends for a week at the time. When I called him, he dropped everything to get back here. We can go talk to him if he’s willing.”
Duke nodded. His gaze had grown distant, as if he were searching his own memory. “I don’t know if my Ben Williams was gay. But if he was, military life must have been damn near unendurable. The changes in policy didn’t change much on the ground. Some things can only become hidden, but never change.”
She sat for a few minutes, sipping coffee, absorbing what he’d said. Eventually she asked, “Is it widespread?”
“The bigotry? I can’t quantify it. One thing I know is that peer pressure is strong, and in a military unit more so. You live and die by the people you serve with, and sometimes it takes only one bad apple to affect everyone. It doesn’t help when the command structure flips back and forth on gays in the military.”
Duke sighed. “Anyway, a lot of those bad attitudes disappear under fire. Some people quickly realize that all that matters is whether you can trust the soldier beside you to have your back.” He offered her a half smile. “Incoming fire can change your perspective on a lot of things. Or not.”
Cat tried to imagine what it must be like for a commanding officer—at least she assumed Duke was at his rank—to have to deal with so many different problems. Not just how to fight and when to fight. Not just the stuff that sprang to mind when she thought about the Army.
“You have a lot on your plate.”
“All I can do is be thankful for NCOs. They handle most of the nitty-gritty. Still, we’re dealing with a lot of very young men. More hormones than brains, I sometimes think, but that’s part of what makes them damn fine soldiers.”
She laughed quietly. “You were that age once.”
“Yeah, I was. I remember and shake my head at some of the crazy things I did.” Then he zeroed in on his main concern. Not an easy man to divert. “Can we call Ben?”
She hadn’t expected him to drop it, but she’d been hoping to avoid it for a while. She’d have liked to speak to Ben first and tell him Duke wanted to meet him. That would give Ben a chance to refuse, and he should have it. Ben had to be drowning in his own grief.
Allowing her a private conversation wasn’t going to work with this man. On the other hand, she could see why. Was Duke supposed to trust her not to tell Ben to keep silent?
Cat twisted a little and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She kept related phone numbers on her contacts list while a case was ongoing and removed them later. Ben was there.
He answered on the third ring. Cat immediately identified herself.
Ben said almost eagerly, “What have you found out?”
“We’re still looking for more evidence. I called because I need to ask you something.”
“I told you I was out of town. Didn’t you verify that?”
“That’s not what I’m calling about, Ben, but yes, we verified your alibi.”
A bitter laugh came over the phone. “Yeah. My alibi. That sounds so good, doesn’t it?”
“It’s a criminal inves
tigation,” she reminded him, trying to keep her tone kind. He was going through hell.
Ben’s impatience came through. “Just find the killer. So what did you want?”
“Larry’s brother would like to talk to you. Major Daniel Duke.”
“I know who he is.” Ben fell silent, the quiet conveying his reluctance. “Yeah. Okay. Why not?”
“You don’t have to.”
“Then you don’t know Duke.”
Cat was beginning to know him. She understood Ben perfectly.
Ben spoke after another hesitation. “Look, I don’t know what I can tell him. I don’t know what Larry was working on. He never, not once, talked about it. That was the toughest part about caring for him. He gave new meaning to the word secrets.”
But Cat felt her heart thunder. “You think his murder had something to do with his work?” She wasn’t sure anyone had considered that possibility. Larry had been here writing a book. Had his work followed him all the way from Baltimore?
“I don’t know what else it could be. It sure as hell wasn’t your ordinary burglary. But yeah, I’ll talk to Duke. Where and when?”
“Privacy?” Cat asked.
Ben sighed. “That would be good, I guess. Bring him out here. I’ll put the coffee on.”
“Thanks, Ben. See you in a bit.”
After she disconnected, she looked at Duke. “Let’s mount up. He’ll see you now.”
Ten minutes later they drove through the rain toward Ben’s house, an older structure on what could be called a mini ranch. In the past, a piece of a much larger ranch had been carved out for one two-story house surrounded by about forty acres. Cat suspected the subdivision had occurred for the benefit of one of a rancher’s children. She couldn’t imagine why else that could have happened.
Maybe one of these days she ought to go to the library and talk to the librarian. Miss Emma, as everyone called her, was reputed to be a truly great resource when it came to county history. Her family had been among the first to settle here in the late nineteenth century. Her father had also been a judge here.