by Mel Odom
“I get a break in about thirty minutes.” The woman nodded down the hallway. “Got a bar down that way on the right. Maybe we could talk a minute.”
“I’ll be there.” He turned and walked away without looking back, but he knew she was watching him. He could feel her eyes. Hooking up had never been a problem, but he’d never met a woman—had never met anyone—that he really wanted to keep in his life. He hadn’t wanted Petey there either, but Petey hadn’t had anyone else to look after him.
Pike found the bar with no problem and sat at a table in the rear. He ordered a whiskey and a beer back. He’d never cared for flying, and the drinks would take the edge off.
His cell rang after he got his drinks. A quick check of the caller ID identified the caller as “5-0.” He smiled at that. The joke didn’t get old. Caleb Mulvaney was a detective sergeant serving with Dallas homicide. The two of them had ended up on opposite sides of the law, but they’d reached an understanding that had surprised Pike. Mulvaney had a rapport with Pike that none of the marshals in the witness protection program had ever managed. And because the United States Marshals Service thought Pike was intractable, special dispensation had been made, and Mulvaney and Pike were still in touch.
Mulvaney was an old-school cop, tough and unflinching, a guy who didn’t take any bollocks and didn’t find a foxhole to avoid bad times. He stood up and got counted. Pike respected that, and he figured maybe Mulvaney saw some of it in him as well.
Why Pike got such pleasure from these calls was a mystery to him. Maybe it was because Mulvaney was safe, always at arm’s length. He opened the phone and said hello.
“I heard you were shipping out today.” Mulvaney’s voice was a rough rasp. He was nearly sixty and had been a lifetime smoker, but he was a feisty guy and still had the chops to be dangerous in a fight. Pike had firsthand knowledge of that.
“I am.”
“Know where?”
“Not yet. I get my orders when I hit the West Coast.”
Mulvaney puffed—probably a cigar, his usual. “Could be Afghanistan. You ready to go back into that soup?”
“I go where I go, chief.”
“Roll like a stone, that it?”
“Yep. I like the wind in my hair.”
“Not as much hair as there used to be.”
Pike smiled. “I cut mine, though. You, you’re just getting thin.”
“Hardy har, punk.”
“You just call to tell me how much you missed me?” Pike sipped the whiskey.
“Not even. Called to tell you not to get yourself killed.”
“Case is closed. We put the bad guys away months ago. I’m in the rocking chair right now. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Mulvaney grunted. “Except for that whole going overseas to get shot by al Qaeda.”
“They ain’t shot me enough yet.” Pike had been wounded twice.
“You keep giving them chances, they’re gonna get it right one of these days.”
“I’m trying not to let that happen.”
“Good for you. But you could let it go, you know.”
Pike swirled the amber liquor in his glass. “Nah, I can’t.”
“Why?”
Thinking back to three years ago when he’d first enlisted with the Marines, Pike recalled how upset the United States Marshals Office had been when they found out. He’d gotten all kinds of flak over that, and he’d weathered it all. He was good at that.
“Truth?”
“Can I bear it?”
“Sure. You’re always telling me you’re a tough guy.”
“Hit me.”
“I miss the action.” Pike listened to himself and was amazed at how truthful he was being. “I grew up on the streets.”
“That’s not entirely true. There were foster homes in there.”
A lot of foster homes, and Mulvaney knew it. That was part of the problem. “Yeah, it’s true enough. The parts of me that matter, the stuff that I respect, that’s where it came from. This deal with Petey and the Diablos, that took me off the streets. Took me away from the action.”
“Streets would have got you dead.” Mulvaney sounded more serious now.
“Sooner or later they get everybody.”
“You’re better off away from that life.”
“Maybe. I didn’t plan for a future. All I wanted was a good run.” Pike stared out at the passersby walking in front of the bar with unseeing eyes. He registered them, but he didn’t care about them enough to even be curious about where they were going or why.
“You had a good run, kid. You got lucky. Otherwise you’d have been buried years ago.”
Pike laughed. “Man, ain’t you the optimist?”
“Call ’em as I see ’em.” Mulvaney laughed too. “You’d think after three years in the Marines you’d be more than a private first class.”
“I have been. A few times.”
“I know. Even made sergeant once. Now you’re back to private.”
“Keeping tabs on me?”
“Some. I got resources. Easy enough to check. So what’s the problem with advancing your military career?”
“They think I’m intractable.”
“Can’t imagine where they’d get that idea.”
“Me neither.”
“But I wasn’t talking about what’s the matter with them. I’m talking about what’s the matter with you.”
“Advancing that career don’t cut no ice with me. I never signed on to be a lapdog.”
“Then why not get out of it before you get your ticket punched?”
Pike sipped his beer and thought about the question. He never questioned himself, and he generally ignored other people’s questions. But Mulvaney was different. Mulvaney had invested in him, and when the time had come, the old cop had laid his life on the line. That carried weight in Pike’s world.
“I’m happy doing what I do. I make sergeant, or even lance corporal, they want me to take on responsibilities. I’m not there for that.”
“You’re there for the action.”
“That’s right.” Pike enjoyed the camaraderie he had with Mulvaney, and that relationship continued to surprise him. Mulvaney’s opinion of him mattered more to Pike than anybody’s ever had . . . except Petey’s.
“Speaking of action.” Mulvaney took another hit on his cigar, and the sucking sound carried over the phone connection.
“If this is a segue to your love life, I ain’t interested.”
Mulvaney cursed Pike good-naturedly. “No, but it is about a crack house that got busted up a couple days ago. People are wondering if you had anything to do with that.”
Pike sipped his whiskey and didn’t say anything.
“The marshals got hold of me, told me about this crack house that suddenly went out of business not far from that place where you’re turning wrenches.”
“I blame the economy. It’s tough all over.”
“Some of those guys ended up in the hospital.”
“Probably brought their own painkillers.”
Mulvaney chuckled. “Could be. I didn’t ask. The marshals thought maybe I should talk to you about it.”
“Sure. I’m in favor of crack houses going out of business.”
“Between you and me, I figure you had your own reasons.”
Pike kept his silence for a moment, then decided that Mulvaney knew what Mulvaney knew, and him confirming it wouldn’t make any real difference about how this bounced. “Kids were getting caught up in the machine. The machine needed to go away. It did. End of discussion.”
“Yeah. I guess so. I’ll tell the marshals that you don’t know anything about it and they shouldn’t bother you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Just make sure you watch your six, amigo.” Mulvaney had been a Marine too.
“Always do.”
“While you’re over there, you take care of yourself.”
“My number one job.”
“And if you nee
d something, drop a dime. Lemme know.”
“Thanks. And you do the same. Stay frosty.”
“You too, kid. I’ll keep you in my prayers.” Mulvaney broke the connection.
For a minute, Pike looked at the phone. It was weird how he felt closer to Mulvaney, a cop who would have busted him all those years ago if he could have caught him, than anybody since Petey. He still didn’t feel the same. He’d been like Petey’s big brother, watching over him and trying to keep him alive.
Only Petey hadn’t been looking out for himself. Got himself killed and almost got Pike killed too.
At that moment, the brunette security officer entered the bar and smiled at him. She glanced at the phone in Pike’s big hand. “Bad news?”
“Nah.” Pike put the phone in his coat. “Catching up with an old friend. You want something to drink?”
“I do, but I gotta go back to work. Maybe a Diet Coke?”
“Coming up.” Pike went back to the bar to order another round.
15
BEKAH HATED GOOD-BYES at the airport. There were always too many people at Will Rogers, and all of them were strangers. It might have been better if Granny and Travis could have gone through the security checkpoints with her. There were more restaurants there, and Travis could have watched the jets take off and land.
The trip to the airport took a lot out of Granny as well. She looked exhausted, but Bekah knew a lot of the fatigue was from worrying about her and from driving through all the metropolitan traffic. Granny insisted on driving so Bekah could talk to Travis during the trip.
Bekah held her son and didn’t want to let him go. He kept getting so big. Every time she came back from overseas, Travis always seemed so much more grown up. One of these days he’d be too big to hold, and she knew that day was coming quicker than she wanted it to. She wrapped her arms around him and inhaled his scent—the shampoo in his hair and the soap that clung to his skin, the freshness of his clothes because she’d just taken them off the clothesline that morning.
This is what you’re supposed to be doing. You’re supposed to be with this boy.
She remembered again how she’d felt the day she found out she was pregnant. Billy Roy had been on the road then. She’d wanted to tell someone how excited she was—and how afraid. Nothing ever came easy or just one way. Her life had always been complicated. And it seemed like things only got worse.
She struggled to keep the news to herself, but Billy Roy had been three weeks out from a return home. Two days after confirming the pregnancy, she told him over the phone.
Billy Roy hadn’t taken the news well. The timing couldn’t have been worse. He’d just taken the mound earlier in the evening and had learned that his pitching skills weren’t as impressive against triple-A ballplayers. He’d gotten shelled, the batters hit everything he threw at them, and if it hadn’t been for the outfield, he would have been trapped on that mound. The manager had pulled him in the second inning.
When he found out about the baby, he’d yelled at her, told her the pregnancy was all her fault. That taking care of something like that was her responsibility, and how could she be so stupid as to get knocked up?
His words. Knocked up.
That had hurt. From the beginning, Billy Roy had treated Travis like some kind of disease. Only a few months later, Billy Roy had started calling her drunk and accusing her of infidelity, telling her there was no way the baby could be his.
Those words and the raw anger behind them had broken Bekah’s heart. The only thing she had to hang on to was the baby growing inside her. As soon as he got home, Billy Roy moved out. Bekah had been on her own ever since.
Travis leaned back in her arms and looked at her from under his baseball cap. “Are you okay, Momma?”
“I am.”
“You’re crying.”
She thought about lying to him, but she didn’t want to do that. Nobody deserved to be lied to. “Maybe a little.”
“Because you’re going away?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be okay, Momma.”
That hurt so bad Bekah could scarcely contain it. “I know. I know it will.”
“I’m gonna draw you pictures every day.”
“And I’ll look forward to them.”
“You’re gonna come back soon, and me and Granny will be here waiting for you.” Travis looked at his granny. “Ain’t that right?”
“That’s right, sugar.” Granny gripped Travis’s elbow and beamed at him. Then she shifted her attention to Bekah. “You gotta be strong, girl. This is the path God put you on, so you gotta be strong. You gotta serve his plans. When Jesus walked this earth, he didn’t demand any kind of special favors from his Father. He emptied himself and came as a servant. Jesus sacrificed his own life for us, and now your sacrifice is for your son. You just gotta trust in the Lord.”
Bekah had had this discussion before. When she was little, she believed everything her granny had told her about God and how he had plans for everyone. But Bekah didn’t believe that it was in God’s plans to take her away from her son when he needed her most. She couldn’t believe that.
“I know, Granny.” Bekah nodded. She knew the older woman was talking about being strong for Travis. He was already aware of the arrest and the night at the police station, and he was confused about that. He didn’t need to see her upset before she left. “I will be. I am.”
“That’s good. You just hold on to that and get back to us as soon as you can.” Granny folded her arms over her thin chest. She glanced at her watch. “About time for you to get going, ain’t it?”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Bekah saw that it was time. She made herself hug Travis tightly. Then she kissed him and handed him to Granny.
“I’ll take good care of this’n.” Granny threw an arm around Bekah’s shoulders and held her tight for a moment. “Don’t you worry none about that.”
“I never do, Granny.” Bekah kissed her granny’s cheek, returned the hug, and shouldered her olive-colored carry-on. Her other bags had already been checked.
“And if you need something, you let us know. Me and Travis will get it to you.”
“I will.” Bekah took two steps back while waving good-bye, then turned and made herself march to the security checkpoint.
“Good morning, Soldier.” A gray-haired woman in a security uniform took Bekah’s papers when she offered them. She looked to be in her late fifties and had a working woman’s hands, short nails and calluses.
“Marine.” Bekah’s reply was automatic.
The woman smiled. “Marine. That your boy?”
Bekah blinked back tears and nodded because she didn’t trust her voice.
“Good-looking boy.” The woman initialed the boarding pass.
“Thank you.”
“Got to be hard to leave.”
“It is. Every time.”
The woman shook her head. “Don’t see how you do it. I raised three of my own, and I can’t imagine not being around them when they were that age.”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Bekah kept that to herself. She’d joined the Marine Reserve as a means of getting some extra income and insurance for herself. Travis, for the moment, was still covered by SoonerCare, the insurance provided by the state, but he would keep growing. She’d needed a way to provide for him and a means of getting more education for herself.
Being a Marine was supposed to be a part-time thing. She hadn’t thought she’d ever be activated. That had just been bad luck, and she knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d had a long line of it since Billy Roy.
“God bless you, Marine.” The woman handed the boarding pass back and gave her a smile. “There’s a lot of people here who appreciate everything you do.”
“Thank you.” Bekah took the boarding pass and headed for the line to the X-ray machines. As she dumped her belongings into the tubs, she glanced back to where Granny and Travis had been, even though she hadn’t wanted to.
T
hey were gone, like they’d never been.
Once she was past the checkpoint, Bekah headed for the bathroom. She found an open stall, dropped her carry-on, and got sick. It happened every time. She couldn’t stop it. No matter what she did, no matter what antacid she took, she couldn’t keep from being sick.
When she was finished, she wiped her face, picked up her bag, and headed to the sink. Thankfully, no one else seemed to have noticed. She surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Even after the years she’d been in the Marines, she still had a hard time seeing herself in the camouflage fatigues she had on. That wasn’t her. It didn’t fit the image she kept of herself.
She’d pulled her hair back in a French braid, applied foundation to her face to even out her complexion, and wore earring studs. Those would come out later, but for now she wore them.
Dark circles lay under her eyes. She couldn’t help noticing them as she stared into that tanned face. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she hated the way they made her look weak and soft.
You’re not weak and soft. You’re a Marine. You’re going to do whatever has to be done. Then you’re coming back to be with your son. With your family. So get it together, Marine. Put that face on. Get into that mind-set. Get the job done. Get back home. That’s the mission. That will never change.
Bekah squared her shoulders and dried her eyes. When she looked back at the mirror, she was once more the Marine she’d set out to become . . . because that was who she had to be to survive.
Lance Corporal Bekah Shaw. Today she was a Marine. When she got back, she’d be a momma again. She picked up her carry-on and left.
As she walked toward her boarding gate, Bekah noticed the man in camo fatigues seated at a table by himself in one of the restaurants. There were a lot of military guys in the airport, but this one drew her eye, and she wondered why. She thought he looked familiar and wondered if she’d served with him somewhere before. Then, after she got another look, she realized that she didn’t know him, but she noticed the glint of the lieutenant’s bars on his lapels.
He was an officer. Definitely off-limits for casual conversation.
Bekah went to the counter and ordered a coffee to help get rid of the sour taste in her mouth. She added cream and sugar, recapped her cup, and briefly made eye contact with the lieutenant. A shiver passed through her when he smiled.