Alex (In the Company of Snipers) (17 page)

Draped in the privacy curtain of her hair, Kelsey stroked the grass over the grave. With her shoulders slumped, she looked like she was talking. Alex dashed a tear off his eye. He knew how fast grief could turn into depression, and just a hop, skip, and a jump to mental illness. Yes, he knew all about the steps of recovery. A person was supposed to transition through denial, fear, anger, and a bunch of other emotions until eventually, they would end up back at normal. Only it didn’t work that way.

Grief was a tough master. Too often, people didn’t know how to ask for help, and others didn’t know how to give it. He had never asked. Even today, he would deny he ever needed it, and as far as transitioning through all those psychobabble steps of bullshit, the only one he had ever made it to was anger. There he stayed, raging against God and man until the only way out was at the end of his gun. He didn’t know how he had survived—or if he had.

An involuntary shudder shook him at the memory of that cold steel in his mouth. The sensation came back like it was yesterday. He had planned it so well. He knew the physics. One shot, one last breath, and peace at last. He had even closed his eyes, ready to be done with it when, out of the blue, a little girl across the street somewhere squealed, “Daddy!” His heart had lied and said it was her. Abby. Whatever. The dark moment passed. He never thought of suicide again.

Alex crouched beside Kelsey in the fading afternoon light. “Kelsey?”

She didn’t seem to hear him. Now that he was closer, it was easy to see her hair was uncombed, her clothes looked slept in, and the only color on her face was the dark circles under her eyes. She had the same look as when he had first found her.  Kelsey was lost again. He circled her slender waist with his arm. She would never make it alone. Alex pulled her gently off the grass.

Kelsey was a wooden statue, come to life at his hand. Her stiffness gone, she slumped against him, her voice far away and flat. “Alex.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He scooped her into his arms, and carried her like a child to the closest park bench. For a long time, he just held her on his lap and rocked back and forth. The police drove away.

Alex whispered into her hair. “I know how you feel. I didn’t want to live then either.”

She whimpered, her head against his shoulder, her hands a dead weight in her lap.

“It’s not the load that breaks us down, sweetheart. It’s how we learn to carry it.” Alex knew she didn’t understand right now, but eventually, she would. “You’re coming with me.”

He set her on her feet and led her from the cemetery. She didn’t resist. After placing her safely in the front seat of his rental, he drove to her apartment.

When Kelsey unlocked her front door, he saw why she hadn’t been there. Sparsely furnished and dirty with empty beer cans and fast food wrappers scattered around, it was a depressing dump. Obviously, Durrant had spent his last days there when he wasn’t out hunting his wife. And just as obvious, the man was a pig.

A small cardboard box of toys stood in the corner by a broken down couch, and a baby blanket lay on the floor where it ha been stepped on. Kelsey went to that blanket and held it to her nose, breathing in the smell of her dead baby boy. A strangled sob choked out of her. Alex turned away. The smell of Abby’s breath came to his nose, even in this dreary place. This was too painful to watch. Kelsey was running on empty at so many levels, and maybe he was, too.

“Where’ve you been staying?” His voice cracked.

But once again she stood in a daze, her answer distant and vague. “Around.”

Alex guessed the cemetery or maybe a park bench. Wherever she had been, she hadn’t been home, showered, or had anything to eat in days. He recognized the agenda. She wanted to die.

“Let’s get you packed and out of here.”

Obediently, she went to one of the two bedrooms. Alex followed. A bloody handprint on the light switch caught his eye. Her handprint. He cringed.
Poor thing. What she must have suffered.

There was no dresser, only a couple cardboard boxes that didn’t hold much. He left her to pack while he loaded the boys’ few things into the back of his rental. Somehow, it was all going to the east coast.

There were no photographs anywhere, only a couple of crayon drawings on the refrigerator door. One might’ve been a picture of a green and red truck. It brightly proclaimed
Jackie
in red crayon at the top of the page. The other was a bunch of scribbles in a rainbow of colors with an adult’s handwriting that declared it belonged to
Tommy.
Kelsey had beautiful penmanship. Alex folded the drawings and placed them in his inner suit pocket.

The truly telling story lay in the black puddle of blood on the dirty kitchen floor. She whimpered when she saw it, her knuckles to her teeth. Alex watched her fall apart.

“He wouldn’t let me go. He said it was just him and Tommy and Jackie. He said—he said—” She fell to her knees, trying to wipe the dried mess with her bare hands. “He said he would bring them back in time for their naps. He promised.”

Alex knelt beside her, thinking again how he had misjudged her. None of this was her doing. She was no more able to defend herself against the monster in her life than her boys.

“I wanted to go, too.” She pressed her face against the dirty linoleum.

So that’s what happened. The only way Durrant could get the boys away from her was to beat her senseless. Alex pulled her off the floor and settled her onto the couch. He returned to the kitchen to get a drink of water. At least the glasses in the cupboard were clean. She must’ve washed them before hell broke loose. He returned to her side with the water and two Advil from his pocket. “Here. Take these and drink this.”

Dazed, she obeyed.

He took the glass from her when she was done drinking, half afraid she might use it to hurt herself. He would have. “Stay here,” he commanded her again, but there was no need. She had retrieved the baby blanket by then, her face buried in its stained, yellow fabric.

Once more, he returned to the kitchen, pulling a couple fingerprint lift cards from his jacket pocket. In his line of work, he never knew when they would be needed. Then, as carefully as if they were Abby’s, he salvaged every tiny fingerprint smudge he could find. He scoured the lower refrigerator door and the legs of the cheap kitchen table. He hunted the two bedrooms, bathroom, and the living room for any trace the little boys had left behind on walls, windows, or doors. These were treasures, and Kelsey would want them some day. Satisfied he had gotten the best, he returned to the couch. She stared into space, the baby blanket carefully folded on her lap.

He pulled her gently off the couch, his arm around her too-thin waist for support. “You up for a visit to Virginia?”

At last, his words registered. She stopped dead in her tracks. “No.”

“You’re coming home with me,” he coaxed, his arm firmly directing her toward the door.

She balked. “No. I can’t.”

But he wasn’t leaving without her. “Yes. You can. Just for a week or so. Just til you’re stronger.”

“No. My boys are here and—” She crumpled to the floor. “I’m not leaving them.”

This was the first time he had heard sharpness in her voice, but it was also the first time Alex knew without a doubt how much he cared for her. “Your boys don’t want you sleeping on park benches.” He ran a thumb over her quivering lip. “Think about it. They’ll always love you no matter where you are.”

She sat rooted in indecision, her voice a whisper. “But I left them once. Look what happened.”

“You didn’t leave them, honey. They were stolen from you,” he whispered tenderly. Alex held out his hand. Nothing else needed to be said.

She looked up from her valley of death. With a whimper, she placed her hand in his. Alex pulled her into his arms, and shut the door to her hellish past. He placed her in the front seat of his rental car and fastened her seat belt. She cried halfway to the airport before she fell asleep, still clinging to Tommy’s baby blanket, and her head propped against the window.

Alex took her with him to Alexandria, Virginia. They rode first class under a starry sky, riding a westerly jet stream. The lights in the cabin were dimmed for the late night flight, and the attendants were extra kind and thoughtful. They brought a warm meal, probably Kelsey’s first in days, Alex suspected. He plied her with a sip of wine, but she refused, so he covered her with the airline blanket instead. She cried herself to sleep.

This may not have been the best decision, but one thing was sure.

He cared.

Twelve

Alex

Boring can be good.

Alex sighed as he pulled into his driveway. His home wasn’t much, just a one story, three-bedroom, older brick home set in an established neighborhood of Alexandria, Virginia. Modest by any standards, tall oaks lined the comfortable, winding street. Most of his neighbors had lived there all their lives. Dull and boring had served him well.

It wasn’t always that way. He and Sara had bought the house with the intent to move Abby into a nicer school and neighborhood, a family-friendly area where she could build a lifetime of friends. Alex didn’t want his little girl to live the life of a Navy brat, moved from port to port. He took it upon himself to be the one inconvenienced and did the traveling instead. His family was his only port, his safe harbor. Life had a different plan.

The home itself was built in the compact utilitarian style of the early 1940’s. It boasted a glassed-in foyer at the front entry with a built-in bench and coat closet, a place for winter boots and shoes beneath the bench. Amber glass French doors opened into a living room furnished with bookshelves, a dark leather overstuffed set, and an old-fashioned stone fireplace.

Gradually, it became a solitary man’s place to sleep, eat, and not much more. No pictures adorned the walls. The drapes were dark and drawn all the time. He had installed a gun safe in the bookshelf years ago. Eventually, he set up a woodworking shop in the basement, and at least once a year, he worked down there. The last thing he had built was a doghouse for two.

It was early morning by the time they arrived on the east coast. Kelsey sat dazed on the seat of his truck next to him. Within minutes, he moved her into one of his two spare bedrooms, made up the bed with clean sheets and blankets, and stored her meager belongings in the closet. He knew he had pushed her to make this decision, but he wasn’t going to second-guess himself now. The important thing was she would be safe. That’s what mattered.

“What do you think?” He stood quietly at the doorway to her new bedroom.

She was pale and exhausted, her eyes and cheeks dry for now. “It’s nice.”

“This is just a two-week vacation. That’s all. You say the word, and I’ll take you right back to Washington.”

He studied her apprehension, second-guessing despite himself. As much as he wanted to gather her in his arms and calm her fears, now was not the time.

“Make yourself at home. Bath towels are in the hall closet. There’s not much food in the house, so I’ll leave some money on the kitchen table if you need anything.”

“No. I couldn’t. I—” Brown eyes darted down the hall.

“There’s a neighborhood grocery store two blocks down the street. You get whatever you need. Mr. Shablonski owns the place. He’ll treat you real good. I might be home late so don’t wait up.”

“Okay.” She acquiesced quickly, but then she heard what he had really said. “You’re leaving?”

He heard the real question in her voice.
You’re leaving me?

“Yes, ma’am. I’m going back to work. You get some rest. The dogs are in their kennel out back, so it’s not like you’re alone here. Just open the gate and let ’em inside. They would love to see you again. Their leashes are hanging next to the back door if you feel like a walk.”

She hugged herself like she was cold.

“I left my business card on the kitchen table. Call if you need anything.”

Alex stopped at his front door before he left. She still stood forlorn in the hall, looking into the bedroom, but not yet entering. He stifled the urge to pick her up and put her to bed like the lost soul she was.

“Will you be all right?” he asked tenderly.

“Yes,” she whispered without meeting his eyes.

It’s odd how the glow from a sixty-watt bulb at eleven PM can change the way a house looks. It made his plain little tract house look like a home. Alex unlocked the front door, hoping the noisy click of the deadbolt didn’t wake Kelsey. He needn’t have worried. She sat on the couch with a book, waiting for him. His nose twitched. The house smelled like—dinner?