“How?”
“Those bruises and that dislocated shoulder are hours old. Even the blood on the scratches was so dry it was flaking. Gerry waited a long time before he came here.”
Megan digested that. The thought of the small boy lying in his bed, hurting and scared, waiting for his father to go to sleep to steal off quietly to the hospital hurt her. One of Boyd’s pet peeves, brought out in conversations with Gerry, was that his son wasn’t tough enough and got mollycoddled by his mother. It was things like this that Megan had seen in her practice that sometimes caused her to question her faith in God. Children were so innocent, and yet they were victimized in so many ways.
“I think his father beat him earlier,” Helen said quietly, “and I think Gerry knew his arm was hurt badly enough that he had to do something about it. He was in a lot of pain when he got here.”
“Is he afraid to go home?”
“No. As a matter of fact, he was ready to leave as soon as Dr. Carson finished putting his arm in a sling. I told him we were waiting on X rays.”
“He doesn’t know I’m coming?”
Helen shook her head. “I was afraid if we told him that he might panic.”
“He’s going to panic when he sees me.”
“Yeah. Probably.” Helen put her hands on Megan’s shoulders. “You’re a good counselor, Megan. I know you can handle Gerry and his fears just fine. The trick is to get him to tell the truth about his father.”
“That’s going to be hard,” Megan said. “As much as Gerry is afraid of his father, he loves him just as fiercely.”
“I know. But if you can get him to talk, do it. To save this kid, we’re going to need his testimony.”
“His dad is going to go ballistic when he finds out that Gerry came to the hospital.”
“I’m going to make sure we have MPs here when we have to deal with him,” Helen promised. The military police took care of all criminal matters that occurred on the base.
“How is Gerry now?” That’s the main thing, Megan told herself. Start there. Don’t think about Boyd Fletcher and how bad things are going to get when he shows up.
“The doctor has him stabilized and relatively pain-free. He’s even got him amused. ESPN runs twenty-four hours a day. There’s a big basketball game from out on the West Coast.” Helen smiled sadly. “Kids are incredible, you know? They go through so much, and they love so completely in spite of whatever bad things they endure.” She sighed. “I just can’t imagine what this world would be like without children.”
Megan thought of Chris, picturing her son sleeping in the borrowed bed as she’d last seen him. Before Goose, she’d never imagined having another child. In fact, she’d never imagined being happy again. Yet, here she was.
The fact that Gerry Fletcher was waiting for her darkened her thoughts. She looked at the other woman. “How long do I have before you and Dr. Carson file a report with the MPs?”
“I’ll give you thirty minutes.”
Megan winced at the deadline. “Thirty minutes isn’t enough time to prepare Gerry for the things he’s going to have to go through in addition to what he’s already been through.”
“Megan,” Helen said, “I’m sorry, but it’s what we’ve got. I don’t want to deal with this any more than you do, but I will. I don’t want to see Gerry taken away from his parents even for a few days, but Boyd Fletcher has to get some counseling.”
“I know.”
Helen pushed her breath out. “Hey, I’m not mad at you.”
“I know that, too. This is just a bad situation all the way around.” Megan glanced at her watch. “Thirty minutes. Starting now?”
Helen nodded. “If you need anything, there’s an intercom in the room. Let me know.”
“I will.” Megan turned and walked toward the room. She focused her thoughts, drawing in a deep breath then emptying her lungs. She wished she were less tired, more awake. She wished Joey and Chris were both home. She wished Goose was safe. Then she prayed that what she could do tonight would be good enough to change Gerry’s life for the better.
7
Turkey
30 Klicks South of Sanliurfa
Local Time 0707 Hours
Working with the quick efficiency that military life had trained him for, Goose divided his team into two five-man units that began organizing the rescue and evacuation. Each team was equipped with a complete medkit from the RSOVs. He placed Dean Hardin, a no-nonsense Texan with more than a decade of service—including combat experience—in charge of the second unit. But Goose kept Bill with him.
Hardin’s group took the east side of Glitter City while Goose’s took the west. “Keep your weps up at all times,” the sergeant told his men. “Until we’re told otherwise, we’re going to believe we’re in a hostile zone and the Syrians are just about to top the ridge.”
Despite the cries of the wounded, the sounds from burning vehicles and structures, the exploding thunder of artillery in the distance that spoke of continued conflict along the border, Goose heard silence. He missed the constant flow of information that streamed down through military channels over the headset. That noise had been with him for years, at once aggravating and reassuring. Although his father didn’t often talk about his own tours as a special forces Green Beret, Goose had always been aware that he fought a different battle than his father had. The modern fighting warrior lived and died by the flow of information.
From what Goose could tell on his preliminary survey, nearly 80 percent of the people who had been in Glitter City at the time of the attack had been wiped out. Goose guessed from the craters in the
