One Was a Soldier

“Now that’s a shame.” Opperman looked at him regretfully. “You’re settling for second best.”

Clare went pale. Russ put his hand in the small of her back and steered her toward the hotel’s entrance. “Come back anytime,” Opperman called.

Walking out into the cold mountain air was like bathing in a clear, clean fountain after wading through muck. “Are you okay?” he said.

“Yeah.” She twitched her shoulders, a movement that became a full-body shiver.

“I’m sorry. God.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“He was playing you. When he almost kissed my hand? He was trying to stir you up.”

“It worked.” He kept his arm tight around her as they descended the steps to the parking lot.

“He knew about Wyler McNabb’s injuries. Before you told him. It’s unlocked,” she said to his outstretched hand.

He opened the Jeep’s door. “What makes you think that?”

She climbed into the driver’s seat and swiveled to face him. “He didn’t ask anything about Wyler’s condition, or about how you knew. The only thing he asked was the one thing guaranteed to embarrass you and throw you off balance.”

“Hmn.” He braced his arm on top of her door and leaned forward. “Why’d you ask him about Arlene Seelye?”

“She’s gone. I went to the Stuyvesant Inn to talk with her, and she had upped stakes. I wanted to know if she’d investigated Opperman first.”

“Gone? Huh. Although if she got a lead on Tally stashing the missing loot elsewhere, there wouldn’t be any reason for her to hang around. Especially at what the Stuyvesant charges for a room.”

“Do you think Opperman is involved? I mean, Wyler McNabb was working for him, then he hired Tally.”

“What, with the theft? I’d like to think so, because I can’t stand the smug sonofabitch. I believe right down to the bottom he got control of that company by killing off his partners.” He shook his head. “That was for high stakes. Huge money. To you and me and Tally, a million bucks would be life-changing, but to a guy like Opperman? It’s a couple months’ salary. Not worth the risk.”

“Shame.” She smiled a little. “He makes such a satisfying bad guy.”

“He is a bad guy. Just not the one we want.”

“Who is, then? Wyler McNabb? Are you going to try to get him back?”

“Extradite him from Iraq? Hell, no. I can’t even imagine what kind of hoops I’d have to jump through for that.”

“Oh, come on. He’s got to be in on the theft.”

“Agreed. Unfortunately, it’s not my case. It’s the army’s. If Seelye wants him, she can try to reel him in. He’s left town, and she’s left town, and if there’s a merciful God-”

“There is.”

He smiled at her. “Then Quentan Nichols will also have left town. Let ’em all chase their money somewhere else. We’ve got more important things to do.” He kissed her, slow and easy, an apology for mixing her up in this business. Pulled away and looked at her, her lips parted, her eyes half closed. He kissed her again, harder, wrapping one hand around the back of her head, the other tracing the barrier of her collar until he found the tiny button in the back. He twisted, tugged, and her neck was bare.

“Smooth,” she gasped, as he put his teeth and tongue to her throat. The sound she made jacked him up even higher. Beneath his coat, she clutched at his shoulders, his chest, his sides. Even through his uniform blouse and undershirt, the bite of her fingers into his muscles sent electric jolts skittering over his skin. She took hold of his rig, pulling him closer, rattling the baton, clinking the magazine pouch.

“Damn.” Her voice was husky. “This thing is worse than a chastity belt.”

He broke off, panting, hard, and realized they were still in the Algonquin’s parking lot. Any guests looking out their windows were going to see a lot more than foliage. “Shit.” His own voice was pretty far gone, too. “I’m sorry.” He laughed harshly. “So much for discretion.”

She shook her head. “It’s Opperman.”

He reached down to adjust himself. “Darlin’, I can guarantee you it’s not Opperman did this to me.”

“No, I meant-” She grinned at him. “Never mind. Come back to the rectory with me. I’ve got a couple of hours before my afternoon appointments.”

“No.”

“Your mother’s place.”

“ God, no.”

“Your truck.”

He paused at that one. Sighed. “Regretfully, no. Nice idea, though.” He searched her face for a safe spot and settled for kissing the tip of her nose. “I’ve got to get back to the station. Hold that thought.”

***

At his desk at the end of the afternoon, his vision blurring from the small print the state used on its crime stats reporting forms, his mind kept going back to Clare. Not the good stuff: He packed the image of Clare, nude and in his pickup, into a box labeled LATER . Instead, he thought about her exchange with Opperman. Something about it was sticking in his brain.

Lyle came in without knocking, which made him grateful he hadn’t been sitting there trying to figure out how to fit a mattress in the bed of his truck.

“I finished the rest of the midmonth stuff we gotta send on to CADEA for you.” Lyle tossed a folder on his already overcrowded desk before collapsing in the one chair still empty of booklets, bulletins, and circ sheets. “Kevin says in Syracuse they got two full-time civilian employees to deal with the paperwork. Think about that, will you?”

“First another officer. Then a second-shift dispatcher. Third, Tasers. A paper pusher comes fourth after that.”

“Tasers.” Lyle snorted. “When I started out, all you needed was a club. My first sergeant taught me how to break open hippies’ heads with a nightstick. Good times.” He sighed. “You find out anything about Wyler McNabb?”

“According to John Opperman, he was, in fact, sent back to Iraq to join the construction team. They get six months on, six off, and his time card was punched.”

“With a busted jaw. Right.”

“Opperman claimed he didn’t know the guy was out on bail.”

“You believe him?”

“I did at the time. Now I’m not so sure. I don’t doubt Opperman could have sent McNabb off and lied about it just to make my life more difficult.”

Lyle shrugged. “No skin off his nose. He’s not the one posted bail.”

“Yeah. Here’s the thing. He said Arlene Seelye had interviewed him. Asked him about Tally McNabb.” Russ crossed his arms on top of the drifts of paperwork. “Wouldn’t she have also asked him about Wyler McNabb? He was her biggest lead. She knew he worked for BWI Opperman.”

Lyle nodded. “Makes sense. I would’ve.”

“But she also knew McNabb was under arrest.”

“So she told Opperman. You already said he might have known, and sent the guy off to Iraq anyway. He doesn’t care if he takes a dump on Seelye’s investigation.”

“Maybe, but think about it. He’s got a lucrative contract with the army. Why would he chance jerking them around?”

“What chance? When was the last time somebody complained and got rid of Halliburton? Or Blackwater?”

“Those are the big boys. The T. rexes of the contracting world. Opperman’s one of the little guys, comparatively speaking. He’s got to make nice and deliver the goods and keep his accounts clean, because there are five other guys just like him waiting to take his place if he goes down.”

“Then what? It can’t be the money. Opperman’s the CEO and majority stockholder of BWI Opperman. The