Sitting on the end of the sofa was a striking older woman—Gage guessed she was in her early or mid 70s. The woman was quite thin. She had platinum hair held back by a shiny onyx headband. Her lined face was bright, her eyes expressive and light blue. Her outfit was conservative but seemed expensive, for whatever reason—not that Gage would know. She wore a glimmering silver blouse and a long skirt of deep purple with flowers woven into the pattern. She beamed at Gage as her hand continued to pet Sheriff, who sat beside her. Gage noticed an empty wheelchair in the corner.
On the far side of the room, behind an unoccupied chair, was a man of perhaps sixty, standing dutifully with his head slightly bowed. He had dark skin and a white Caesar crown. His black vest and stark white shirt seemed to indicate a uniform. Though he had a protruding belly, his arms and shoulders indicated great power. He nodded at Gage.
“That’s Anthony,” the older woman said with a light accent. “He’s helping me while I’m here in the U.S. on my visit.”
Since she’d introduced him first, Gage walked over and shook the man’s hand. The man responded with a firm handshake and steady eye contact.
Gage then walked to the woman and offered his hand. “Hello, I’m Gage Hartline.”
She gripped Gage’s hand with surprising strength, smiling as she apologized for not standing. “I’m Claudia Vogel, Gage. I’m from Germany, a place I understand you once called home.”
Gage glanced at Colonel Hunter, who seemed amused but gave Gage a slight shake of his head—it was Hunter’s expression of “I know what you know.” Gage turned back to Ms. Vogel and nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I did live there. I learned the language a long time ago and I hold a special place in my heart for your country.”
“Und Deutschland hat einen besonderen Platz in seinem Herzen für Sie, Herr Hartline,” she replied in her dignified native German. Translated, it meant that Germany had a special place in its collective heart for Gage. Her accent sounded like that of a Frankfurter.
He had no idea what was behind such a statement, so he merely nodded. As did she.
In all actuality, the moment was a bit awkward. Given the lady’s Frankfurt dialect, Gage hoped—and quickly prayed—this visit didn’t have something to do with Monika’s murder.
As springs of sweat emerged on his temples, matched by a thudding pulse in his neck, Gage again turned to Colonel Hunter, hoping he’d somehow break the ice.
“You want some coffee?” Hunter asked.
“Sure.”
Alice stood. “I’ll get it.”
Gage widened his eyes at Hunter, who took the cue.
“Ah, Gage…why don’t you have a seat?”
Gage sat on the other end of the sofa from Ms. Vogel. She continued to massage Sheriff between the ears. Sheriff’s eyes were closed in his moment of bliss.
“What brings you here, Ms. Vogel?” Gage asked.
“Claudia,” she corrected perfunctorily.
“Excuse me…Claudia.”
Claudia smiled as if Gage were her pupil and finally pronounced a word correctly after many tries. “I’ve come here for what will almost certainly be my final visit to the U.S., Gage. I flew into San Francisco and met Anthony there. He’s done a fabulous job of escorting me during the past month. We toured the California coast, the desert, the middle of the country, Chicago, New York, Washington and now here.”
“Wow,” Gage said. “That’s a lot of miles.”
“I love it here,” she said. “I graduated from William & Mary, many, many years ago. They were the only four years I’ve ever lived away from Germany. During that time, I grew to love the United States and its carefree people.”
“You certainly retained your English better than I’ve held onto my German.”
She shooed his statement away. “Nonsense. I understand your German is native.”
Gage looked at Hunter who offered a scant shake of his head. So, Hunter hadn’t told her that. Meaning: Claudia Vogel had done her research.
“I know many things, Gage,” she explained, beaming, clearly reading the silent communication between the two soldiers. “Your good colonel hasn’t betrayed you one bit.”
Alice Hunter returned with a tall glass of black ice coffee for Gage. She looked at Claudia and said, “I know him like a son. Ice coffee in the afternoons, especially on a hot day.”
“Splendid,” Claudia said. “I’ll have to try that sometime. If you order ice coffee in Germany, it comes with ice cream.”
“Have you waited long for me?” Gage asked. “I hope not.”
“Ten minutes, perhaps,” Claudia answered. “I’m so sorry for not phoning ahead,” she said, making eye contact with the Hunters. “Quite rude of me.”
“Ain’t no biggie,” Hunter said, earning a corrective pinch from Alice.
“Would you think it also rude if I ask to speak to Gage alone?” Claudia asked.
The Hunters seemed relieved to escape the awkwardness of the situation. “Absolutely not,” Alice said. “You two visit as long as you like. Please, stay here and make yourselves comfortable.”
“Unless it’s an inconvenience, I’d prefer to meet in the other house, Gage’s charming home behind this one,” Claudia said. She motioned to Anthony. “Gage will help me, dear. Why don’t you sit here and talk to the colonel.”
Claudia, the matchmaker, turned to Hunter. “Colonel Hunter, like you, Anthony is a veteran of the U.S. military.”
Hunter arched his brows and looked at Anthony. “Sure enough?”
“Oh, yes, sir, colonel,” Anthony replied in a booming baritone. “I’m a Marine, served in ‘Nam…Walking Dead battalion.”
“First of the Ninth,” Hunter replied instantly, appraising Anthony through a new, more satisfied lens. “We might’ve brushed shoulders, friend. What years?”
“One tour of duty, seventy-one and two, right after high school.”
“If you were there in early seventy-two,
