One Was a Soldier

Because he had done the same thing to her. Truth for truth. He took her hand, holding her palm open as if he could see the future there. “You know what’s scary about being with you?”

She shook her head.

“There’s not anyplace to hide. For either of us.”

She smiled a little. “You chickening out?”

“Not a chance.” He started for the hotel’s entrance. She fell into step beside him.

“So,” she said. “Nichols.”

“I figure there are three possibilities behind McNabb’s disappearance. One, he really was shipped off to Iraq as a BWI contractor.”

“That sounds flat-out strange to me.”

“Yeah. Two, he told people he was going to Iraq on a job and skipped town for places unknown.”

“Let me guess the third. Nichols took him out in a bid to be the last man standing.”

“Like you said, a million bucks is a powerful incentive to murder.”

They thumped through one of the revolving doors and crossed to the gleaming reception desk. A cute young woman with dark hair perked up at them. “Welcome to the Algonquin Waters Spa and Resort, Reverend. Chief.”

Clare’s title was self-evident, but how had she known he was-he spotted her first name pinned to her chest. “Christy McAlistair,” he said.

“Yup. It’s Christy Stoner now, though.”

He knew Wayne and Mindy Stoner’s boy had gotten married between deployments, but he hadn’t put that fact together with the name on the Bain accident report. “How are you doing?” He glanced at her trim waistline. “Everything, uh, okay?”

“You mean after the accident? I’m fine. Zachary-our baby boy?-came early, but he was already almost six pounds, so my OB said it was probably just as well he was born at seven months.” She laughed. “Then-because the driver who caused the accident had been working up here?-Mr. Opperman offered me a job. Wasn’t that amazingly nice of him?”

Amazingly smart of him to avoid a lawsuit. Ellen Bain had been drinking at the lobby bar before taking her fatal drive.

“Zach and I are living with my parents while Ethan’s in Afghanistan, so everything I earn can go toward a down payment on a house when he gets out of the marines.”

“You’re Ethan Stoner’s wife.” Clare put the pieces together.

Christy’s eyes lit up. “Do you know Ethan?”

“We haven’t met, formally. I know of him.”

The girl laughed again. “Yeah, he was kind of wild when he was young. He’s settled down now.”

Clare glanced at him, and he knew just what she was thinking. When he was young? For all that she was a wife and mother, Christy Stoner looked to him like she ought to be cheering on the Minutemen football team. God, he was old.

“Well.” The voice behind him was as smooth as a well-oiled gun. “What have we here? The Church and the State. Together.” Russ and Clare turned around. Opperman’s mouth curved up as he looked at them. “How unconstitutional.”

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Christy said. “I didn’t know you were waiting for them, Mr. Opperman.”

“That’s all right, Christy.” Opperman gestured toward the elevators. “My office is this way.”

Russ threw out his arm, blocking Clare’s way. He didn’t want her anywhere near the resort’s CEO. Irrational, but there it was. If he had kept Linda away from Opperman, she never would have gone to the Caribbean with the man, never would have been driving home from the resort in a blizzard, never would have died-and he never would have been marrying Clare, which brought him back to irrational. “We don’t need to take up your time,” he said. “I came here to speak to your HR director.”

Opperman gazed at him coolly. “It’s no bother. I should be able to answer anything you might ask her.”

“Look, I just need to know-”

“Let’s not keep our paying guests from the desk.” Opperman strolled across the expansive lobby toward a riverstone fireplace big enough to roast an ox in. The small fire burning in its center made it look like the entrance to a prehistoric cave. Opperman sat in one of a group of chairs clustered to the side of the hearth. He held out his hand toward the remaining chairs.

Russ grudgingly sat down. Clare settled beside him.

“You just need to know…” Opperman began.

“If Wyler McNabb was transferred to your operation in Iraq.”

“Yes. Employees working on the Provisional Authority contract are on a six-month cycle, six months in-country, six months at home. Wyler returned in mid-April, and so…” He spread his hands. His nails were clean and shining.

“Were you aware Wyler McNabb was out on bail?”

Opperman’s eyebrows went up. “I was not. What are the charges?”

“Resisting arrest and assaulting an officer.”

Opperman nodded. “Does he have a trial date?”

“Sometime in January.”

“We have a monthly flight to and from Balad Airport. If you let us know the exact date, I’ll have the crew supervisor make sure he’s on it in time to make his appearance.”

“Just like that.”

“Even highly skilled construction workers tend to be, shall we say, rough around the edges. This isn’t the first time one of my employees has been extra-jurisdiction, and it won’t be the last.” He placed his hands on the chair’s arms and prepared to rise. “If that’s all-”

“Were you aware McNabb was released from the hospital five days ago with several broken bones in his face?”

The hands relaxed. “I was not.”

Russ waited, but Opperman didn’t seem to have anything else to say. “Don’t you have some sort of basic health requirement for your construction workers?”

“I’m moved by your concern, Chief Van Alstyne. Since you seem so much better informed than I, perhaps you can tell me how Wyler was injured.”

Russ tried to keep the tension out of his voice. “As I said, he assaulted an officer and resisted arrest.”

“And as a result, someone in your police department smashed his skull in?” Opperman shook his head. “Funny. You see it in the news, but you don’t expect something like that in a small town like Millers Kill.” He laced his fingers together and looked straight at Russ. “I hope this is an isolated incident of police brutality. The tourism- dependent businesses in this area can’t afford to have their customers frightened of the very men and women they rely on for protection.”

A scalding cloud of shame and rage surrounded Russ, burning his chest and face, tightening his throat. Clare laid her hand on his arm. “Mr. Opperman, have you met Lieutenant Colonel Seelye? She’s an Army CID investigator.”

Opperman blinked at her. Then looked at Russ. “Are you delegating your work to the clergy these days?”

“It’s a simple yes or no question,” Clare said. “Have you met the colonel?”

“Yes.” Opperman’s voice was short. “I met with Arlene Seelye a day or two ago. She was investigating something to do with the unfortunate Tally McNabb, and she wanted to know what kind of employee Tally was.”

“All right. Thank you.” Clare got up. Russ frowned. He wasn’t certain what she had been after, but he stood with her.

Opperman rose as well. He smiled broadly. “I understand you two are planning to get married.” He captured Clare’s hand in both of his and raised it almost to his lips. “I imagine you’ll be a ravishing bride, Reverend.”

Russ balled his hand into a fist to keep from reaching over and tearing out Opperman’s throat. Clare snatched her hand away.

“I hope you’ll consider the Algonquin for your reception,” Opperman continued smoothly.

“We’ve already booked the Stuyvesant Inn.” Russ’s voice was harsh.