by KG MacGregor
“That’s a load of shit and you know it! I’ve never cheated on you. Hell, I’ve never even looked at anybody else. How could you even say something like that?”
Marleigh replied through gritted teeth, “How can you walk out of here and think I don’t deserve to know where you’re going? It’s like you’ve totally forgotten we’re married. That means I’m the person you’re supposed to talk to when you’re in a bad place.”
Zann sighed and dropped her backpack on the hardwood floor with a thud. “Marleigh, for God’s sake. This has nothing to do with you.” An air of frustration overtook her face, and she scooped the backpack onto her shoulder and sidestepped her to the door. “I’ll call you from the road.”
“You know what? Don’t fucking bother.” She knew she’d regret those words. And yet, it felt better to say them than to stand there feeling utterly disgraced and humiliated while Zann walked out the door.
* * *
Keeping her head down and her hands in her pockets, Zann walked briskly across the rest area. According to the sign, this was Conneaut, Ohio. The coffee thermos she’d topped off four hundred miles ago in Saratoga Springs, New York, was empty and she still had three hours to go. One small paper cup at a time, she methodically refilled it from the vending machine and headed back to her Jeep, careful to stay in the path of the streetlamp. Anything could happen in a strange place at three in the morning.
Several semi trucks were lined up behind the welcome center, their engines humming to keep the cabs cool while the drivers took a mandatory break. The only other car in the lot was a beat-up sedan parked at the end of the ramp, its occupants probably asleep. What she wouldn’t give to close her eyes for just an hour or two. But her best chance of catching Vanessa was to get to her house first thing in the morning before she left for the day.
Inside her vehicle with the doors locked, she turned on the dome light and pulled out the letter that had arrived on Wednesday, the second from Vanessa Laird. It was mailed four days earlier on what would have been Whit’s thirty-third birthday. Did Zann ever think of her, it asked, or had she found a way to forget? Vanessa would never forget. Missing her sister made these birthdays unbearable now that she knew the truth about how she died. Would she be alive today if they hadn’t once been lovers?
As she pulled back onto the interstate, she turned her thoughts from Whit to Marleigh, whose angry words still echoed in her mind. Of course she would call home, of course she would apologize. But could she ever explain? There was no good way to tell Marleigh that the woman she’d fallen in love with—the woman she’d married—was a fraud. Captain Zann, her shining warrior. Marleigh put too much stock in her supposed heroism to wipe it all away and expect her to keep feeling the same way.
* * *
The road to the quarry was paved but littered with gravel from passing trucks. Marleigh wasn’t sure they’d be open for business on Saturday, so she was glad to see a handful of pickup trucks parked next to an office trailer.
A bearded man in a henley shirt and ball cap looked up from a desk as she entered the dusty building. “Can I help you, ma’am?” His accent was decidedly Southern, and she recalled Zann saying Wes had moved up from Georgia.
“I’m looking for Wes Jackson.”
“You found him. What can I do for you?”
She introduced herself by name and paused for a sign of recognition. When he didn’t respond, she continued, “I’m Zann Redeker’s wife.”
“Oh, oh…Marleigh! Yeah, I know who you are.” He grinned broadly and hurried around the desk to shake her hand. His pinky and ring finger were taped together in a splint. “Zann talks about you all the time, said you were the best thing about coming home to Colfax. What’s she been up to?”
The question took her by surprise. Zann had gone off early three times in the past week, ostensibly to hang out with this guy, her best friend. “You haven’t seen her?”
“Not for a couple of weeks.” He held up his injured hand. “Got this caught in my tailgate like an idiot. It’ll probably be a month or more till I can get back out to the range.”
The range.
Suddenly it all made sense. The timing, the secrecy. Marleigh recalled vividly the dinner with Bridget and Rocky, how he’d bragged about going out to some farm on the weekends to shoot. At the time, Zann had denied her interest rather emphatically. Then when Rocky had beaten Bridget, she’d gone to the gun range to issue her threat. Something about it had appealed to her—and she must have known Marleigh would disapprove.
“So that’s where you guys usually get together…that gun range up by Otter Creek?”
He looked at her warily, and under his breath muttered a curse. “Son of a bitch…I had no idea she didn’t tell you. She’s gonna kick my pink ass black and blue.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not even going to tell her I came out here. Maybe you shouldn’t either.” She strolled around the trailer taking in the scant decorations…a dusty painting of a hunter with his dogs and an outdated girlie calendar. “She took off last night. Said she’d be gone a couple of days, that she’d screwed up something and had to go make it right. Any idea what she might be talking about?”
“Beats the hell outta me.”
“Would you tell me if you knew?”
He scratched his ear absently as he contemplated how to reply. “I guess…maybe.”
“I’ve been worried about her, is all. She knows I’m not a big fan of guns so that’s probably why she didn’t say anything. But it’s fine…I’ll deal with it.”
“Yeah, I’d say that cat’s officially out of the bag. We’ve been meeting out there on the weekends and I think she goes by herself before work sometimes. At first she couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn on account of her hand and all, but she keeps working at it. It’s like she won’t be satisfied till she gets it back the way it used to be, you know?”
Zann rarely talked about her injury anymore. She’d started her exercises again after Gil got the promotion, but Marleigh figured she’d mostly made peace with her limitations. After encouraging her to join the veterans group, she could hardly complain if going out to the gun range was how they bonded. It made sense, given it was something they all had in common.
She recalled Zann saying she didn’t like Wes at first. He definitely had a rakish air about him, but also a charm. “Wes, could I ask you something? I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything…it’s about your group. I know it’s private and all, but do you ever notice Zann getting upset about anything?”
“Maybe a couple of times,” he hedged, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “All of us got riled up over a guy there who took some liberties with one of the ladies while they was in Iraq. Some of us got together for beers one night and straightened him out…same as with that dipshit who whupped up on his wife. You know about that, right?”
“You mean running Rocky Goodson out of town. You guys did Colfax a favor.”
“Yeah, Zann read him the riot act and a bunch of us went out there to back her up.” A twinkle in his eye suggested he’d enjoyed it. “And there was one other time I saw her get kind of emotional. Hell, we all did. Angie told us about a guy in her unit getting run over by a truck.”
“Did Zann ever talk about losing one of her soldiers?”
He shook his head. “Nope, not that I remember. About Zann…I noticed a while back that she kinda fades in the background when we talk about shit that still keeps us up at night, you know? She listens but she don’t have much to say.”
Interesting that she wouldn’t have mentioned her sergeant, since she’d always said it was the toughest thing she’d ever faced. The emotional toll must have been too much.
“See, the way our group works, people tell their stories and then we go around the room to let everybody put in their two cents…or their quarter, if it’s a big mouth like mine. She used to speak up every now and then, but the last couple of times I was there, I noticed she was taking a pass.”
“Was
there anybody in the group who maybe rubbed her the wrong way?”
“You mean besides the first time we met and I called her missy?” Laughing, he added, “In case you can’t tell, I have a habit of running my mouth before my brain gets to working. She got over it though. She gets along with everybody. Sometimes us enlisted bastards like to rag on the officers, but I could tell right away she was one of the good ones. Give me a cap’n who’s willing to take a bullet for his team—or her team. Hell, I’d follow ’em anywhere.”
“Okay…I appreciate your help. Like I said, it might be best if she doesn’t hear about me coming out here. I don’t want to make things worse than they are. I was just worried, thought maybe you could help.”
As she spoke, he walked her out onto the small porch. “Everybody needs somebody to worry about them. You might be right about something getting under her skin. I can see it now that you mention it. You lemme know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Though she was no closer to uncovering the mystery of why Zann had shut her out, at least she’d crossed some potential issues off the list. What worried her now was that she was eliminating every possible source but herself.
* * *
The Lairds’ neighborhood reminded Zann of Colfax east of Rutland Road where a smattering of new homes sat among some that had been remodeled and others in need of repair. Military records confirmed this was the address Whit had supplied for her next of kin. It had been renovated at least three times, Zann guessed, given the roof lines and siding materials. A bungalow style, deeper than it was wide, probably with three bedrooms and two baths, one of which wasn’t part of the original structure.
The lights had been on inside since six a.m. when she parked at the curb across the street. Vanessa most likely lived there with her parents, since she’d used it as her return address.
So what was keeping Zann from marching onto the porch and ringing the doorbell?
“Nothing, except being terrified,” she answered aloud. The whole family might want to hear what she had to say but the longer she sat there the more she thought it was best to talk only with Vanessa. It was possible Whit had confided in her sister that she was gay but not her parents. They certainly didn’t need to hear that from a stranger on their porch.
For that matter, Vanessa may not have told them of her correspondence with the Marine Corps, of her newfound knowledge that Whit had been killed by friendly fire. Zann couldn’t go charging in and destroy their memories just to cleanse her soul of this awful stain.
Clifton and Kathy Laird. She remembered Whit saying he was a city bus driver and she, a school cafeteria worker. Working class, just like the Redekers. No wonder they were so proud of Vanessa getting through college. At an age when most were striking out on their own, she still lived at home. Perhaps it was to help fill the void they all suffered when Whit was killed.
The front door opened but it was several seconds before a young woman appeared on the porch, apparently shouting her goodbyes and confirming what time she’d return. She wore a summer frock and sandals, and carried a delicate purse on a thin strap. Long blond hair—exactly like her sister’s—flowed from beneath a straw sunhat.
Zann couldn’t stall another moment. She left her Jeep and crossed the empty street. “Vanessa? Vanessa Laird?”
The young woman stopped abruptly on the sidewalk. That she was Whit’s sister was irrefutable—they had the same blue eyes, oval face and slender nose.
“I’m Suzann Redeker.”
“I know who you are.” She clutched her purse defensively, as though girding herself. “Why did you come here?”
“You know why, Vanessa. I have to talk to you.”
“I don’t have to listen.” Her face contorted with pain and she pushed on toward her car.
“Whitney would want you to. I’m sure you know that.” She’d practiced all night what she’d say, how she’d tell of Whit’s courage and final moments as a hero. “Your sister was the one who saved us all. She went in first, Vanessa. She found the Taliban. She bought me the time I needed to defend myself…the time we all needed.”
“You should have told them that.” Her voice rose with hurt and anger. “You shot her and then stood there like a hero while they pinned a medal on your chest.”
“I told them exactly what happened, how fearless she was. I didn’t know it was my bullet that killed her until I got your letter.” She slowly closed the distance between them, encouraged that Vanessa at least was hearing her out. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how much it hurts. But they never told me what really happened, I swear. I didn’t want to believe it but I went all the way to the Commandant’s Office to hear it myself.”
The wrath in her youthful face gave way to unmistakable anguish. Her shoulders sagged and the purse dropped to the driveway with a thud.
“If it weren’t for what she did…going into the house like that…hundreds of Marines could have died.”
Vanessa sniffed loudly as her chin quivered.
“She was more than brave, Vanessa. She was an outstanding Marine and she loved every minute of what she did. I can promise you that. I can still remember how we’d all sit there in camp trying to get psyched about going out on patrol. Not Whit though. She was always pumped up, telling everybody to get off their asses because we needed to go change hearts and minds. That’s all she cared about.”
“She cared about you,” Vanessa managed to choke out as she leaned against her car. “She told me that, and that you tossed her aside when you were finished with her.”
“It wasn’t like that. The first time we met I thought she was an officer too.” It was an honest mistake on Zann’s part, since they both were out of uniform at a bar in Wrightsville Beach and Whit had deliberately lied to her after learning she was a first lieutenant. “As soon as I found out she was enlisted, that was it. We couldn’t see each other anymore. The Marine Corps has regulations against fraternization. Both of us could have been kicked out.”
“She told me you busted her chops every day after that.”
“Because she transferred into my unit and I was her CO. I busted everybody’s chops—that’s what made us good Marines.” She remembered being furious that Whit had put in for the transfer knowing she was in charge of the FET. More than once, she’d been forced to shut down romantic advances with threats of getting her demoted or even discharged. Despite their dubious history, there was nothing to be gained from telling Vanessa that her sister had practically stalked her, that she’d broken policy over and over. None of that had anything to do with her death.
“Did you ever love her?”
The temptation to placate a grieving woman was mighty, but Zann hadn’t driven seven hundred miles to lie. “No…no, I didn’t. But I respected her more than you’ll ever know for the kind of Marine she was. If I could go back in time, I’d give my life for her just like she did for me.”
The front door opened and a middle-aged man stepped out onto the porch to investigate.
“Take this, Vanessa,” Zann said, drawing the Bronze Star from her pocket and holding it out. “I didn’t deserve it. Your sister did.”
Vanessa held the medal in her hand as she finally released her tears in a heart-wrenching sob. Then her eyes went cold and she flung it to the ground. “Don’t come here thinking you’re going to wash all this off by giving me that. Why would I want to look at it every day and remember what you did?”
Chapter Sixteen
Fuming, Marleigh paced the break room as Bridget cleaned up the powdery residue from a box of sugar donuts. “And that’s not all. This morning I turned my face at the last second and made her kiss me on the cheek. It’s going to take a lot more than bringing me coffee in bed to get over her being gone all last weekend and not telling where she went.”
After almost a week, the pressure of holding everything inside had finally cracked. She could barely speak to Zann at home. The quiet was killing her.
“That’s so weird, Marleigh. It
doesn’t sound like the Zann I know.”
“Tell me about it. And get this—she’s hiding a rifle in the garage on the top shelf behind some boxes. I had to get the ladder to reach it.”
“Now you’re scaring me.”
“No, not like that.” She should have realized Bridget would overreact. “I’m not afraid of her hurting me. She’s never threatened me or anything.”
“Neither had Rocky until he did.”
“Zann doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. But it’s driving me crazy that she’s gotten so secretive all of a sudden.” And that she was obsessed with guns. “I’m starting to wonder if she feels threatened about something. I can’t figure out what she had to go fix.”
“You don’t think she’s gotten mixed up with some of those militia nuts? Don’t they go off on the weekends and play army in the woods?”
Marleigh grunted and shook her head. As outlandish as that sounded, the pieces fit better than anything else she’d come up with. Except Zann wasn’t the paranoid type and she hardly ever talked about politics. For that matter, she no longer talked much about her military life either except for the recent trip to Bethesda.
Assuming of course she’d actually gone to Bethesda… No, Marleigh wasn’t going down that rabbit hole.
“I went over to her parents’ house last Sunday to see if they knew anything. I didn’t want to come right out and ask them, but Chuck Redeker’s one of those guys everybody wants to play poker with because his face gives him away every time.” Except she’d gotten nothing from him, not even a vibe. “I barely got through the door before he asked me what was up with Zann. Apparently she went by there last week and took her Bronze Star medal out of the display case. No idea what she did with it. It’s not anywhere in our house…unless she’s hidden it with more guns.”
“Why would she do that?”
“That’s what I want to know. Nothing she does makes sense anymore.”
“Bridget, Marleigh?” Fran appeared in the doorway, chastising both with a scowl. “In case you’re planning to work today, I’ve got a twofer. Scanner says they’re busting a meth lab on Snake Mountain Road. And somebody from Maubry’s office called to say Jimmy Finch is about to be arraigned on two counts of vehicular manslaughter.”