Heart of War

by Lucian K. Truscott

  Kara laughed. “I read about the damage you suffered in the storm.”

  “Oh, it was a mess around here, all right. Took us this long just to get things cleaned up.”

  “I heard some of the children were injured.”

  “Just two, cut by flying glass. We were very, very lucky.”

  “I remember one night when I was here, there was a tornado, and my folks came to get me. You had us huddled together under the tables against the wall.”

  “I remember. That was back when we used to put pallets down for you kids and you’d sleep on the floors.”

  “You don’t do that anymore?”

  “The children sleep on big gym mats now, but they bring their own blankets, just like you used to.”

  “They said part of the roof blew off. Do you remember what time of night it happened?”

  “Oh, I think it was about nine-thirty. Yes, that was it. I remember because I was watching a movie on HBO, and it had just come on.”

  “The paper said the General came by. That must have created a big stir around here.”

  “It certainly did! We don’t get to see the General very often, although Mrs. Beckwith is here once a month. She volunteers at the thrift shop.”

  “Oh, really? I didn’t know that.”

  “She is such a wonderful lady. You’d never guess she was a general’s wife. Have you met her?”

  “Yes, briefly. She is very nice.” Kara looked around. “You said something about a thrift shop.”

  Mrs. Bennett opened a door and flipped on a light. Kara walked into a large room full of rolling racks hung with children’s clothes, winter coats, dresses, men’s suits, a typical thrift shop except for the racks of uniforms hanging along one wall. “It’s really more of a consignment shop. People bring things by, and we put a price on them, and take ten percent when they sell. We get a lot of uniforms from soldiers who are being discharged. More now than we used to, with the downsizing and all.”

  Kara walked over to a glass display case. One side held a selection of watches and costume jewelry. The other side, much larger, held military insignia—captain’s bars, major’s oak leaves, colonel’s insignia. In one corner was a large pile of old U.S. insignia. Mrs. Bennett pointed at two stars in the front. “Mrs. Beckwith brought these. They were General Beckwith’s brigadier stars. I think it’s the first time we’ve ever had general’s stars in here.”

  “Not much of a market for those, I don’t guess.”

  Mrs. Bennett laughed. “I keep thinking somebody will buy them as a kind of souvenir, but there they are, haven’t sold in months.”

  “You said the roof blew off about nine-thirty. Do you remember what time it was when the General got here?”

  “It was sometime afterward. The MP’s got here first, and the fire department came, and the ambulance, and then the General drove up.”

  “So it was, like, nine forty-five or so?”

  “About that.” Mrs. Bennett peered at Kara over her glasses. “You sound awfully curious about what happened that night. Is there something I should know?”

  “I guess I’m just curious by nature.”

  Mrs. Bennett chuckled. “You certainly were curious when you were a little girl. I remember you used to tug on my skirts and ask questions all day.” She sing-songed: “Mrs. Bennett, where do clouds come from? Mrs. Bennett, why is the sun so hot? Mrs. Bennett, why does it rain?”

  Kara laughed. “You’ve got some memory, Mrs. Bennett, that’s for sure.”

  “I never forget a name or a face. I can’t help it. It’s just the way I am.”

  Mrs. Bennett turned off the light, and they walked back into the child-care center. “Do you have children of your own, Kara?”

  Kara looked out the window. “No, I never married.”

  “Oh, you’ll find a man if you keep looking. A nice girl like you deserves a husband and a family.”

  “You’re still married to Mr. Bennett, I guess.”

  “Forty years next June.”

  “That’s amazing, you and Mr. Bennett together all these years.”

  “He’s a good husband, except this time of year, when football season turns him into a hermit. He bought one of those new dishes, and he can watch about fifteen games every weekend if he wants, and he hasn’t missed many, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “Well, if football is a vice, it’s a minor one.”

  Mrs. Bennett laughed. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  Kara glanced at her watch. “I’d better be going.”

  “Stop by again, Kara. I’m here every day until five.” She pressed Kara to her ample bosom, patting her back affectionately.

  Kara unlocked the front door and flipped on the light. She whistled for the cats. “Weird! Wall-monster! Peesh! You lazy good-for-nothing cats wake up and get in here!”

  The message light on the answering machine was blinking. She punched Play.

  “Hi, babe, it’s Lannie. Pick up. You there? Call me, will you, babe? We have got to get together. I’ve got this new bar I found I’ve got to take you to, you hear? Okay. Call Lannie, hear? Bye.”

  The machine beeped twice.

  “Guidry? Hollaway. I’ve got something scheduled for tomorrow. Give me a call first thing in the morning.”

  Two more beeps. A pickup. Silence.

  Two more beeps. A final long beep, signaling the end of messages.

  She hit the reverse button on the answering machine and walked into the kitchen and grabbed a can of cat food from the pantry and tapped on the edge of the can with a knife. “Weird! Peesh! Wall-monster!” Nothing. She snapped the can into the electric can opener, and looked for them as the can opener whirred loudly.

  Nothing.

  This was very strange. The cats were three of the laziest felines on the face of the earth, but when they heard the can opener, they came running. She flipped on the hall light and walked into the bedroom. She turned on the lamp next to the bed. Then something caught her eye.

  The curtain in the window across from the bed was blowing softly into the room, and a cold breeze blew through the open window.

  She opened her closet and knelt down and swept her shoes into a pile in the corner. With her fingernail she pried open a floor board in the back. When she stood up, she was holding a .45-caliber pistol. There was a sharp metallic snap as she drew back the slide and let it go, chambering a round.

  The screen was gone, and the window was wide open. She found the latch on the floor, popped out, pieces of wood still attached to its screws.

  Picking up the phone, she dialed quickly. “Mace! You’ve got to get over here! Someone broke into the house!”

  She hung up the phone and looked out the window into the darkness.

  “Peesh! Weird! Wally!”

  Nothing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She found the cats huddled together under the back porch. When she knelt and urged them to come out, they pulled farther away, hiding behind a pile of old lumber. Going back upstairs, she got the can of cat food and stood in the open door and tapped on it with the knife. Weird stuck his nose out first. She tapped again, and he came running. The others followed quickly behind. She closed the back door and turned the latch.

  She was in the kitchen feeding the cats when she heard Mace at the door. She opened the door, and he took her in his arms. She felt the outlines of a weapon under his jacket.

  “What’d they get?”

  “I haven’t had time to check. The cats were missing when I got home. I’ve been looking all over for them.”

  “Are they okay?”

  “Cold, and a little scared, but they’re all right.”

  Mace pulled a Colt Magnum from his belt and laid it on the kitchen counter. He looked around the room. “TV’s still here. They didn’t take the stereo. Did you check your jewelry?”

  “You know me. I don’t have anything valuable.”

  “Let’s have a look.”

  Kara led the way to her bedroom and
pulled out the drawer in her dressing table. A jumble of costume pieces—earrings, necklaces, a couple of her mother’s old cameo pins—slid to the front of the drawer. She pawed through it. “I don’t see anything missing.”

  Mace was standing at the window, fingering the broken latch. He opened the window and looked outside, running his hand along the edge of the screen. “They cut the screen with a razor.” He turned around. “Did you call the Columbus police?”

  Kara was standing by the bed. “I don’t want to call the police yet, Mace.”

  “Why not? Somebody broke into your house. It’s what you do.”

  Kara walked back into the living room. Mace followed. She was standing by her desk. Her Toshiba notebook computer was open on the desk. “My computer was closed when I left this morning. That’s how I turn it off. Now it’s open. Somebody’s been messing with this computer, Mace.”

  She sat down and turned it on. Quickly the computer powered into Windows. She clicked the mouse a couple of times and pointed at a small bar graph in the top right corner of the screen. “That’s the battery power indicator. It was indicating full power when I turned it off last night. It’s down to three-quarters. Somebody was on this machine for a half hour, Mace. They went through my files.”

  “People don’t break into people’s houses to sit down and go through their computer files.”

  “They do if they think there’s something on the hard disk that can hurt them.” She walked over to the sofa and sat down. “There’s something I haven’t told you.” Mace was standing across from her, arms folded across his chest. “I saw General Beckwith tonight. I used to know him at West Point. He was my tactical officer.”

  “What does that have to do with somebody breaking into your house?”

  “Plenty. He was the only person who knew I’d be gone from the house tonight. He called me last night and asked me to meet him about twenty minutes outside of town. He knew where I was going to be at seven o’clock, how long it would take me to get there and get back home. He knew I lived alone and the house would be empty the whole time I was gone. He set up the whole thing.”

  “Maybe somebody broke in during the day, while you were at work. It’s so private back here in these woods, nobody would have seen them.”

  “It didn’t happen during the day. I came home before I left to meet Beckwith. The windows were closed. The cats were inside when I left.”

  “You think the commanding general had something to do with this? Why?”

  “He was having an affair with Sheila Worthy. He was supposed to meet her out there by the firing range the night she was killed. He claims he didn’t make it. He and his wife both swear he was at home at the time she died.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “No. Beckwith admitted his affair with Sheila because if I found it out myself, I’d put it in my report, and that would make him a suspect. I know he’s lying. Here.”

  She pulled out the Polaroid and handed it to him. “He’s got our bags, Mace. He found the motel receipt from Panama City. He’ll go to any lengths to get me to keep my mouth shut about him and Sheila. If it gets out he was having an affair with the dead girl, he can forget about chief of staff. His career will be over.”

  “Do you really think he killed her? Maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe he was supposed to meet her out there, but he never made it.”

  “That’s a possibility, but I think he’s lying about the whole thing. I think he killed her and he’s blackmailing me to keep it covered up.”

  “Did they get anything off the computer?”

  She reached for her purse and pulled out two 3.5-inch floppies. “I keep all my stuff from the office on these. I take them home from the office, and I don’t load them until I’m ready to work.”

  “So the whole time you were talking to Beckwith, you had what he was looking for with you.”

  “Right in my purse.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t have any choice, Mace. If I take what I know to Hollaway, he’ll go to the provost marshal before he files a report, and the provost marshal will go to Beckwith, and we’ll be finished. Both of our careers will be over. He threatened specifically to see to it that you get a special court-martial for fraternization. You’d end up with a bad discharge.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I’m going to keep my mouth shut for now, but I’ll stay on Beckwith until he makes a mistake, and when he does, I’m going to get him. He killed her, Mace. If I have anything to say about it, and I do, he’s going to Leavenworth.”

  “You’re making a big mistake, Kara. Guys like Beckwith, they step on people like you and me. The Army’s not going to get in his way. He’s everything they want in a general. Look at him. He’s on the goddamned list for chief of staff.”

  “They don’t like generals with dead mistresses at the Pentagon. He knows it, and he wants the top job so bad—”

  Mace interrupted: “He’d kill for it.”

  The phone rang. Kara started to reach for the receiver, but Mace grabbed her hand. “Let the machine get it.”

  The machine picked up with her message. “Kara Guidry. Please leave a message. Thanks.” Beep. Beep.

  Silence. A hang-up.

  “I got one of those earlier.”

  “They’re checking on you.”

  “Let ‘em check.”

  “If General Beckwith knows about us, somebody else is going to find out, and they’re going to catch us, Kara. You know they will.”

  “Fuck Beckwith. Two can play this blackmail game. He knows if he or any of his people so much as make a peep about us, I’m going to file a report on him and Sheila Worthy. He’s not going to take that chance. He’s got too much at stake.”

  “Maybe he’s got so much at stake, he’s not going to depend on you keeping your mouth shut. If he killed Sheila Worthy . . .”

  “I’ve thought of that.”

  “Well?”

  “Let me tell you something, Mace. Beckwith isn’t going to get away with murder. If that means I’ve got to watch my backside, then I’ll do it. But I’m not running away from this. No way.”

  Mace pulled her to him, tucking her head under his chin. “You love this shit, don’t you?”

  “Like you can’t even believe.”

  “You know something? I think most people live their lives like they’re watching a movie. The stuff that’s happening around them is way up there on a screen, and they’re just reacting. But there’s no distance between you and what’s up on the screen. You’re in the movie.”

  “Isn’t that the heart of war? Either you engage the enemy, or you get the hell off the battlefield.”

  “Where’d you learn that?”

  “From my father.”

  “I thought you didn’t get along with your father.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Sometimes learning is a painful experience,” Mace said gently.

  “All of the time it is.”

  Mace kissed the crown of her head. “You want me to stay?”

  She looked at her watch. “It’s late.”

  “So that’s a definite maybe.”

  She leaned against his shoulder, and as she did, she felt the muscles in her neck let go, flooding her face with warmth. “You know something?”

  “What?”

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh, yeah? What am I thinking?”

  “You’re thinking, what can I do to make this better? What can I do to take away the sting?”

  There was a long moment while she rested her head against his shoulder and he looked down at her, his brow furrowed. She was watching his face, and what she read there, she wanted to tell her mother. She wanted to tell her that this guy at Fort Benning, this staff sergeant she had found in a canoe on a river in north Georgia, she wanted to tell her mother that this guy was like a house, with four sides and a floor and a roof and all-weather siding; he was there when the wind howled and
the rain blew, and what he wanted to do was, he wanted to protect you, and she wanted to tell her mother, that was the greatest feeling in the whole damn world.

  Finally he smiled. “What I’m thinking is, let’s go to bed.”

  “See? I was right.”

  He took her by the hand, and when they got to the bedroom, he lifted her off the floor and he put her on the bed and he pulled her blouse over her head and he buried himself in her breasts and she inhaled the aroma that seeped from his body as they came together. He raised his head and when he looked into her eyes, she thought, if this is love, then what the hell am I afraid of?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “So what’s up?” Kara slid onto the worn sofa and tossed her cap on the coffee table. Hollaway’s office would have looked right at home in a machine shop. File folders were stacked against the walls like cordwood; even his diplomas on the walls were crooked. Coffee stains abounded. It was a wonder anything got done amongst such chaos.

  Hollaway was chewing on an unlit cigar. He took it out of his mouth and grinned. “We’re closing in on Sheila’s killer.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I’ve given our suspect list a haircut. There were twenty-two who bought gold U.S. insignias from the N.S. Meyer company. We’re down to five, and out of the five, two I don’t like, and three I do like, and out of those three, two I really like. You and I are going to see number one this morning. Later we’re going to pay a call on number two. I think we’re going to bust this puppy.” He stood up. “You want a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure.” Hollaway poured her a cup from a carafe on his desk and handed it to her, spilling some on the floor. He didn’t seem to notice. “So tell me how you narrowed down our list.”

  “We had twenty-two. I threw out the six women—”

  Kara interrupted sarcastically. “Thank you very much.”

  Hollaway grimaced. “That left us with the sixteen men. I called around and checked schedules. Ten of them weren’t even on post the night Sheila was killed. Four were on TDY, three had taken leave, and three of them were out in the field on maneuvers. All ten of them had morning reports to establish their whereabouts. That left six suspects. I threw one of them out right away.”