The prepper’s expression sagged from fierce to sorrowful and he drew back. “Rachel, what’s wrong? Are you scared of me? You aren’t scared of me, are you?”
She caught her breath. “You . . . you startled me,” she said. Not just his sudden appearance but the fact that he’d barred the door. Why had he barred the door if he didn’t mean her any harm?
“You needn’t be afraid of me,” he said. “I’d never hurt you. I’d never hurt anyone. At least . . . I hope I wouldn’t.” He looked down and then up again.
“Okay,” she said, still a little uneasy. “Why did you bar the door?”
He looked at her quizzically, then hitched his thumb in the direction of the door. “Because it’s windy out?”
She almost laughed out loud when she realized how silly her response to him had been. “I’m sorry. You just startled me,” she repeated.
“I came to apologize for yesterday . . . for turning you away yesterday.”
Rachel shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I mean it, Rachel,” he said. “You’re the last person I’d ever hurt. You’ve been so kind to me. I was hoping . . . I was thinking maybe we could be . . . friends. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend.”
Relief washed over her, and her knees felt suddenly weak. She glanced at the bale of hay, wondering if what was left of it would hold her or she’d end up looking like a total fool by sliding onto the concrete floor.
Chuck took another step forward and touched the smudge of camouflage on his cheek. “I don’t like people to see me at night,” he said. “So, I guess I am a little crazy. That place where they sent me would make anyone crazy. Four tours, four too many. You can’t trust anyone, you know. An interpreter we had, someone we’d eaten with and laughed with and slept beside, he shot two of the guys in my patrol. Shot them in the back. Killed them without blinking an eye. And I’ve seen cute little kids rigged with suicide vests. I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff, but I can’t get it out of my mind. Still, it’s wrong to talk about it. No need to keep you awake nights.”
Rachel remembered with a rush of compassion that he’d said he’d had a bad night. “Do you have nightmares?” she asked him. “Maybe you should talk about it. Have you considered—”
“Seeing a shrink?” He gave a grunt of disdain. “Saw my share of them in recovery. They think they’ve got it all figured out, but they don’t. It makes no sense. We kill them. They kill us. You can’t tell friends from enemies, and friends today may be enemies tomorrow.” He paused. “Not you, I mean.”
“It must have been terrible for you,” she said, taking a step toward him. “But I was thinking about God. I find comfort in prayer.”
He scowled. “I’ve tried praying. My mother raised me to believe, but . . . it’s hard, you know. You keep wondering if there is a God, how can He allow such pain? The psychiatrists say I’m depressed. That I’ve got brain damage and PTSD. Maybe I do, but who wouldn’t? There aren’t any rules over there. There should be rules. Good guys, bad guys, civilians. Little kids shouldn’t be sent out to blow up people, and they should be able to sleep in their beds without bombs dropping on them. Don’t you think?”
Rachel nodded.
“I was afraid to let you in yesterday. Sometimes I get worrying about nuclear war, about the end of what we have in this country. I’m better off alone then. I jump at shadows, you know. And Patton, my raccoon, didn’t come home. I thought . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. One of the dogs tangled with a black bear. Not much of a contest. I had to bury him, and I was afraid that Patton might have . . .” Chuck slapped his forehead with the palm of an open hand. “A lot of steel up there, you know. I get headaches, but don’t worry, I’m good tonight. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think I could hold it together.”
“Is your raccoon all right? Did you find him?”
“Yeah. Patton’s fine. Came trailing in early this morning looking like he’d had himself a good old time. Probably got himself a lady raccoon he—” Chuck’s face reddened. “Pardon me. No call for such talk to a lady. I guess I do spend too much time alone. I forget my manners.”
“Won’t you come into the house? Have some coffee and a piece of pie? I’ve got at least three kinds of pie.”
“No, thank you. I’m not much for making social calls. I feel easier on the mountain. I don’t usually leave it except to take on supplies or pick up a pit bull that needs a place to call home.” He glanced around as if to confirm that they were alone. “I felt bad about turning you away yesterday, real bad. You must have come back for a reason.”
“Just a few more questions,” Rachel said. “I had my cousin with me. Mary Aaron. You’d like her. She’s Amish.”
Chuck nodded. “You still think I might have been the one to kill Daniel, don’t you?” The corners of his mouth twisted into a wry smile. “But that doesn’t make any sense. If I’d wanted him dead, it wouldn’t have taken two shots to do the job. I could have taken him out just as easily with a section of wire or my bare hands. I may be crazy, Rachel, but I’m not
