She paused, inhaling and exhaling several times as if to stop herself from shaking. “We expected to be blown up at any minute. I kept wondering if hiding in the truck had been the best thing to do. But there was no other place to go. We’d entered a long, narrow gorge, where the road was only one lane wide. And we had no idea where the weapons fire had come from. I couldn’t go out again. I pulled off Rick’s flashlight. He had his attached to his webbing at the left shoulder. Mine was gone. It must have come off when we were crawling under the truck. I hung his flashlight up and lit it and we sat and waited.”
She stared at the floor. “You have no idea how much I regret what I did after that. All I could think about was the way I’d lived my life. Or not lived it.”
She shut her eyes, her expression pinched and pained. He had no idea what she meant by that last statement. His insides clenched, and he wanted to scream. How he held it in, he couldn’t guess. His jaw tight, he asked, “How did you kill him, Sylvie? How?”
She looked up at his dark features. “Think about how far along I am. When you met me, I was twelve weeks along.” She paused. “You do the math.”
He counted backward, struggling to focus on the simple math. Oh, damn. Holy cow. “Are you telling me you got pregnant that night?”
She nodded, briefly. “I can’t believe it hadn’t occurred to you before.”
“I…I just assumed you and Rick had been having sex regularly.” Damn, it hurt to say that. She and Rick. He’d always assumed they’d been lovers. In love. And that assumption had kept him from exploring the attraction that he felt for Sylvie.
Until last night, when it hadn’t matter one damn iota.
Her laugh was short and hollow. “No. Rick and I had been friends only. Nothing more. Until that night.” She mouthed a mild curse, and he knew she was slipping into the past.
“Rick needed more than comfort.” Her words came out in short, rushed blocks, as if she could barely say them. “He asked to make love to me. He said he’d always cared for me. It was as if he knew he was going to die.”
She stopped, and Jon vaguely noticed her struggle to contain her grief. “I didn’t want to. I’d always made it a personal policy not to get involved with any soldier. I wasn’t the only woman who thought like that. A lot of female soldiers had the same idea. We’d seen men at their worst, and believe me, it’s not pretty, especially the young guys.”
“But you did….”
She jerked her head up and down swiftly. She was about to speak when she paused and peered at him with confusion in her eyes. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”
He blinked and shook his head.
“I was a virgin, and when Rick began to fall apart on me, and I knew he believed he was going to die, I started to think about it as well.” She wet her lips. “I realized I didn’t want to die a virgin. I had no life outside of the military, and suddenly it occurred to me that I was going to die without ever experiencing…sex. So I agreed when he suggested it.”
The air escaped from him, hard and fast as if he’d been sucker punched. He tilted his head in disbelief. “You had sex with him? How could he even, I mean, he was injured!”
“There wasn’t that much blood loss. He seemed to have come around, and he needed me—”
“He needed someone with some common sense!”
“He seemed fine. He was scared!”
“Fine? Damn, woman, he was dying! All you could think about was having a good time?”
She flew at him, quickly enough to make him blink and step back. “I was selfish, all right! I admit it! But for a while, it kept Rick going, and even I needed some comfort. We both could have died out there.” Her voice dropped. “I would have thought that you’d figured it all out.”
He shut his mouth to the angry volley he was ready to fling. All those clues, evidence that he’d ignored. She’d turned him on so much, just being Sylvie, that he didn’t consider her lack of experience making love. But each odd move, each kiss that had more enthusiasm than expertise, all those looks that he knew were virginal and innocent. God, she was a hell of a lot more innocent than he’d figured.
He glared at her. “And you’re telling me that he got you pregnant that one time?”
She nodded. “I was more concerned with the possibility of dying a virgin than with doing my job.” She met his glare with equal intensity. “The only time I get involved with another soldier, I get pregnant. One time—because I was too scared to do my job! You can’t even begin to understand how that makes me feel. Rick died because I let my emotions get the better of me! But Rick needed to take his mind off his injury.”
Jon slapped the wall beside him. “He was dying! You wasted his energy on sex, when he should have been fighting for his life?”
She leaned toward him, her own voice rising until it cracked. “I made a mistake! Like last night, when I was so desperate to be someone else because I…I can’t stand who I really am! Besides, you didn’t mind wasting your energy!”
“I wasn’t bleeding to death!”
She pursed her lips.
He couldn’t believe what was happening. What had happened. Sylvie seemed on the edge of losing control, and even though a part of him recognized her anguish—hell—even wanted to pull her into his arms to stop it, a bigger, more painful part stopped him.
But she carried his only living relative. He should have some compassion.
No.
“You killed him after that?” His lungs burned from lack of air, and he fought back the swirls of anger, hurt and bitterness. He shouldn’t be here, interrogating her. He should call Major Tirouski and tell him everything, demand a full investigation and the full truth.
And let Sylvie take her punishment like the damned good soldier she was supposed to be.
“Rick fell unconscious as soon as we finished. I tried to wake him up but couldn’t.” She looked heavenward, blinking rapidly, clenching her teeth. “I’ll always wonder at the irony. He died in a way every man wants to go. But I know that doesn’t make it right.”
She dropped her gaze to his. Still defiant, still the Sylvie he had damnably fallen head-over-heels in love with. “I know I should have been braver, tightened the bandages, stopped his suggestion and told him it was just his fear talking. Or maybe I should have raced outside and emptied both weapons into the entire gorge! All over the place, because we didn’t even know where the shots came from!” She pounded her chest. “I know I should have tried harder to keep him alive! I have to live with that! I was a coward that night.”
She spun around, her mouth set hard. “I know I killed him, as much as that bastard who pulled the trigger.” She shot Jon a desperate look over her shoulder. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I…I…”
She looked hollow, tortured, and one desperate heartbeat later, he ached to shut out all his fury and just hold her.
Forgive her.
But…he couldn’t.
She finally finished her sentence. “…I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t say anything. Stunned, he stood there until the first idea pricked at his numb body.
He snatched up all his papers, crushing some with such force that the sharp corners of the unopened autopsy envelope dug into his callused palms.
Then, without another word, he flung one scathing glare at Sylvie, ground his heel into the living room carpet and spun away. He stalked out to the kitchen, the back door, the bunkhouse.
And eventually all the way to his home in Toronto.
Chapter 16
The day wasn’t the sort of day Jon could associate with cemeteries. Clear and sunny, warmer than the first part of November should have been, and no hint at all of the bad weather coming.
He pushed forward, ignoring the gardener who drove a small leaf vacuum in neat, even strips. The large oak tree to his left had been the last to shed its coppery leaves.
The graves he wanted were at the far end. But even at this distance he could spy
a figure crouching down in front of them.
The swell of indignation died when the figure stood. It was Carter Rosenberg, his father’s old partner and best friend, the man in whose arms his father had died. Jon had been at his retirement party a few months back.
Carter turned when he heard Jon approach. His gaze held no surprise. He’d been expecting Jon.
“Hello.” The older man glanced up at the clear sky with heavy, well-lined features. “Nice day to be outside.”
Jon stared at him, then finally nodded. Both men turned their attention to the three graves. Jon’s mother and father, their stones wide and tastefully decorated by the gardener. Jon had paid for the service years ago.
And Rick’s. He swallowed as he read again the simple military stone memorial. Below the cross was etched Rick’s name and rank and corps. Below that, his life span. So damn short.
“I remember when he was born,” Carter murmured.
“So do I.”
Carter looked at him. “He was a good kid. Died in the service of peace. Like your father, Jon. Your dad would be proud. And I heard his name has been added to the Book of Remembrance.”
Jon clenched his jaw. That book was a great honor, but today it didn’t feel like it. “He was just a kid.”
“Old enough, I hear.”
He shot the old man a wary look. “Old enough to serve his country?”
Carter twisted around, his expression unyieldingly tough. Uncharacteristically tough. “Old enough to father a child, I mean.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Word gets around, Jon.” He folded his arms. “And he was old enough to know that with life comes death. And the living have to move on.”
“I have, Carter.”
“Drove past your house again yesterday. Garbage day.”
“So?”
“I’ve been driving a lot, lately. The wife likes to go out for coffee with me. Says she missed all those times I spent in coffee shops with your father, and wants to make up for it.”
What the hell was he getting at?
“Jon, we drive by your house every garbage day.”
“Thinking of a second career?”
Carter laughed. “Nope. But I did notice how little garbage you have.”
“I live alone.”
“Yes, you do. Did your brother have much stuff, Jon?”
He stiffened. “Not much.”
“Not like Tanya, when she left. You threw out a bunch of stuff then, didn’t you?”
“She didn’t need it anymore, and neither did I.”
Carter watched him, that impenetrable look setting up shop on his face. “You haven’t been through Rick’s stuff yet, have you?”
Jon felt the burn of heat seep into his face. “That’s none of your concern.”
Carter unfolded his arms. He gestured with his head for them to move back toward the road. Jon gave one last look to Rick’s grave before following the older man. He’d be back before the snow came. There was still time.
They walked in silence for a few minutes.
“Saw Tanya the other day,” Carter said. “She asked about you.”
Jon said nothing.
“She’s gone on with her life, Jon.”
“So have I.”
Carter stopped and grabbed his arm. “No, you haven’t, son. When your father died and later, when his murderer walked out of that courtroom a free man, you faced the fact that your father wasn’t coming back. You moved on with your life then. Were you ever mad at me?”
Shocked, Jon gaped at him. “Never! You were just doing your job.”
“The woman Rick was with when he died was just doing her job, too.”
He gritted his teeth. “No, she wasn’t. And she even admitted as much.”
“I wasn’t there and neither were you, so you can’t say for sure. Jon, you’ve stared at the wrong end of a gun a time or two. It gets a person thinking differently. Like when a woman betrays a man.”
Jon started walking again. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You never fully dealt with Tanya’s departure, Jon,” Carter called out.
He didn’t look back. “I did. I threw out her junk and went back to work.”
“All you did was clean out your house. Which is a hell of a lot more than you did with Rick.”
Jon stopped, spun around and stalked back to the old man. The wind picked up a thin wisp of white hair from the top of the man’s head. Before Jon could speak, Carter continued, “You didn’t grieve her. I didn’t say anything because it comes in everyone’s own time. But it’s time to grieve both Tanya and Rick. Especially Rick. He deserves it.”
“I did grieve him.”
Carter sighed. “It’s easy to fool yourself when there’s no one around to challenge you, isn’t it? That’s why you’re always alone.” His expression softened. “But it’s time to challenge that stupid notion. You worked hard after your father died because you could battle the crime that killed him. But you couldn’t fight the thing that caused Tanya to leave you, and you most certainly couldn’t fight the crime that killed Rick.”
“What killed Rick is out in Alberta, pregnant with his baby!”
Finally, Carter showed surprise. Feeling a bit smug, Jon plowed on, “That’s right. She admitted she’d as good as killed him.”
“She told you?”
“That’s right.”
“Brave woman.”
“No, she’s not.”
“Yes, she is. But you’re mad because she lived and Rick didn’t.”
Jon stopped his retort. Yeah, all right, Sylvie was brave, and yeah, he was mad. Still. But she’d lied to him, and kept secrets from him, and because of her his brother was dead. He glared at Carter, squinting against the brilliant sun. “All right, she is, but I’m still thinking of turning her into the military so she can get her punishment.”
Carter lifted his eyebrows. “What’s taking you so long?”
Jon jerked back.
Patiently Carter waited for the answer they both knew he couldn’t give. Finally the older man tilted his head. “How do you know for sure that woman was responsible for Rick’s death? What did the autopsy report say? You’re a police officer, you should be checking the evidence first before you go off half-cocked.”
Jon turned and resumed his swift pace back to his car, the heat of another embarrassing question flooding into him.
“You haven’t read it yet, have you, Jon?” Carter called out. “It’s time to. You’re brave enough to be a cop in this city. It’s time to be brave enough to bury your brother.”
Jon kept walking straight to his car. He had planned to go to the Yonge Street Mission to meet a pastor there for talk of expanding the small bike club he’d created for the kids, but instead he drove straight home.
His living room looked exactly as it had for the past six months. He’d shoved Rick’s effects to one corner, and since coming home from Alberta, he’d taken to watching TV in his bedroom.
On top of the barrack boxes was the final report. He’d never even finished reading it, for Pete’s sake. Carter was so right. He hadn’t got as far as the complete autopsy report.
With a deep breath he picked it up and pulled it out of the envelope.
The autopsy report shook as he read it. Its final assessment glared up at him and he folded it up and put it away again.
Sylvie’s words slipped free of his memory and he pondered them. The military had given her the wrong directions to the outpost. What had she called those directions? Grid reference? There had been a major security problem and that was why they’d wanted the whole incident hushed up and why Tirouski had visited the ranch to ensure Sylvie did her part. And she’d had her own personal reasons to agree.
But Sylvie hadn’t precipitated Rick’s death. He’d died from an embolic stroke, caused “probably from injury to the femoral artery,” the medical examiner had written.
The paper below swam in his vision. He slapped it on
the coffee table and slid to the floor, reaching for a barrack box.
Chapter 17
The kitchen calendar glared at Sylvie that morning. Just as it had glared at her every other morning since Jon had left.
He’d been gone for four months. One hundred and twenty days. Sylvie ripped her gaze from the offending calendar and while rubbing her aching, itchy belly, she threw open the refrigerator. She should be counting the days till the baby’s arrival, and not the ones since the baby’s uncle left.
She slammed the refrigerator door shut. Supper would be light and only for her, so there was no need to start preparing it this early in the morning. Lawrence, Purley and Dad were to take the steers into Calgary. Andrea had gone to visit her sister in Vancouver. Michael had finally had his shoulder operated on, and was down in Fort MacLeod staying with his mother while he recuperated.
Sylvie was alone.
The growl of an engine outside intensified and then immediately stopped.
She peered out the window in time to catch her father climbing out of the big truck they’d rented. Behind him, steam rose from the long, slatted cattle trailer. They were ready to leave.
Her father threw open the back door. “We’re off. Are you going to be all right? You still look tired.”
She forced a smile on her face. “I am tired. The baby did another bout of gymnastics last night and I’m the one with the sore muscles.”
Allister smiled back. “Well, he’ll stop soon. He’s getting too big. Oh, while you were in the shower, the rental store called. We must have left one of the spare hooks for the come-along in the line shack last summer, and they’ve just missed it. Can you call them to say we’ll look for it later this week?”
Necessary Secrets Page 18