But given what had happened, and his suspicions, it really wasn’t over-the-top. Not at all. He knew the kind of people he was dealing with, what they might consider doing to protect their careers and their reputations.
A few men went to war and came back killers. Even developed a taste for it. Most had a harder time with guilt and memory.
As a man had once said, “War is an atrocity-making situation.”
Hell, yeah. Dealing with it afterward was rarely easy.
But then there were those who liked it. Psychopaths, or whatever they were called these days.
Regardless, if war unleashed psychopaths, then there were psychopaths inside the command structure. Someone who’d be willing to order Larry killed. Someone who’d be willing to order Duke’s death. Someone who wouldn’t care but felt he’d gain from it.
Hell. He pulled the curtains closed. He wanted to escape this obsession for a little while. He considered taking a long run, then decided against it. He needed distraction, not the rush of endorphins through his system.
Leaving the bedroom, he padded down the hall in his stocking feet, which felt exposed to him. Boots on was every infantryman’s rule. Boots could help you run over dangerous ground and protect your feet.
But walking around in boots might disturb Cat, and he didn’t want to do that.
In the kitchen, he started coffee. Checking the bakery bag on the counter, he found more Danish. Probably a little stale by now, but still edible. He placed one on a plate, then joined it with steaming coffee. Such luxuries.
Now that his initial shock was passing, memories of Larry were resurfacing. They were all good memories, and they could still make him smile. Even when his chest ached so bad he thought he might not be able to draw another breath. God, it hurt.
He knew he was trying to avoid it, but this grief was apt to kill him. Larry had been an essential part of his life even when distance and time had separated them.
He felt as if he was about to bury half of himself. The best part. And he knew he was going to miss Larry’s voice and grin forever.
Sunny days playing baseball. Long, lazy summers during school breaks when Mom had always promised they were going to do exciting things. Inevitably, the planned day trips didn’t last long, whether because she quickly wore out or the budget wouldn’t support it. It didn’t matter to either him or Larry.
Instead they’d had the hills near the house. Trees to climb in, forts to build, fish to catch and a river to swim in. In the winter, endless hours were spent skating on the frozen river and trying to master the art of building an igloo or playing hockey with friends.
Duke heard a sound and twisted to see Cat shuffling into the kitchen. She wore a bright blue terry-cloth robe over pajamas.
“Did I wake you?” he immediately asked.
“You might have if I’d been asleep.”
“You, too?”
“Some nights are harder than others.” She poured herself coffee, then peeked into the pastry bag. “You want this?”
“Help yourself. Just a little stale.”
“A shame to let that happen to Melinda’s baking.”
Coffee and Danish in hand, she returned to the table. “What’s keeping you up?”
“I was just thinking about Larry. Memories of good times.”
Cat smiled at him, a soft expression. He liked it when she smiled, but this one was special somehow. Like a warm connection.
“Care to share?” she asked.
“Not sure what to tell you. I’m kind of having a collage of memories—golden moments, if you will. Snapshots. We were close, almost like twins.”
“God, that must hurt.”
“It does.” No point minimizing it. Since she’d joined him, the steel band around his chest had loosened a bit, but it was still there, restricting his breathing.
He continued, thinking she might like to hear a little about Larry the kid. She’d known him, after all. “We were best buddies all the way up until we separated for college. Me to the military academy, him to another college.”
“Wait,” she interrupted. “You went to West Point?”
“Sure did.”
Wow, she thought, impressed. Then, “I’m sorry I interrupted your memories of Larry.”
“No problem. They’re coming as they come. Like a river that’s determined to flow, but not always rapidly. Tonight, like I said, it’s random snapshots. A hazy recollection of golden days. I don’t know about your childhood, but ours was mostly great. Having Larry there made it even better.”
“A built-in playmate.”
“You bet. Best friend. We liked to camp in the backyard when we were in elementary school. It was like a huge adventure to be out there alone in a tent with night all around. We loved the flashlights. I bet our parents got sick of buying batteries.” He felt a smile crease his face. “Sometimes they really indulged us, allowing us to camp out for a couple of days. My dad even built a firepit, but we could only use it when he was there to keep an eye on us. We roasted marshmallows and hot dogs and felt so freaking special. Many times, neighborhood kids joined us.”
“That sounds really delightful.”
His smile widened a shade. “I’ll never forget the smell of the smoke that somehow always came my way. Or the racket of the crickets chirping when it grew quiet. The sound of frogs in nearby water. Catching minnows with a net, then setting them free. Pollywogs fascinated us when they started to grow their frog legs. An amazing transformation even after we knew why it was happening.”
“It does sound wonderful,” she murmured, enjoying the way all the hard edges seemed to leave his face as he remembered.
“Maybe the memories have been enhanced by time. I don’t care. I’ll keep them the way they are now.”
“I’ll second that.”
He regarded her as he finished his Danish. She’d barely picked at hers. He was sure, despite her denial, that hearing him stirring had dragged
