Somewhere Along the Way (15 page)

Gabe and two of his men got out, fully armed and on full alert. After that, everything happened at once. Gunfire from a roof above them. Men scrambling back to the vehicles. He remembered blocking the senator with his body as he lifted his weapon to return fire. Then a bomb exploded, and all he remembered was black pain.

Hours later he thought he must have awakened briefly as men loaded him on a plane.

“Easy, soldier,” a medic yelled above the noise. “We’re transferring you back to the States. You’re stable, but we’re going to keep you under for the trip.”

“My men?” Gabe remembered whispering.

“I think they’re all dead, pal. I heard you were the only one alive when help got there. Lucky, I guess.”

Gabe fought back a scream. Max, Nathan, Jack, all gone. “Lucky, I guess,” he whispered, thinking of how he’d been with most of them since the first day of special training. They’d grown from boys to men together. They’d molded into warriors together.

A week later he’d been in San Antonio when he heard two men plotting to kill him, the only survivor of the raid. The men standing in the shadows of his room somehow thought he’d seen or heard something he shouldn’t have. If Gabe could have cleared the fog in his brain, he would have told them they were wrong.

The door to his cell clicked, drawing him back from the hell he now called his past.

Turning, he was surprised to see Elizabeth Matheson step in. She had on a pink ski jacket lined in white fake fur and looked far more like a Playboy bunny than a lawyer. Instead of a briefcase, she carried a purse big enough to hold a file folder and an entire desk set.

“Don’t look so surprised to see me,” she snapped. “I
am
your lawyer. You called me, remember?”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he answered. “And even if you did, I didn’t think they’d let you in here.” He glanced around.

Elizabeth did the same. “Of course I’d come. That’s what lawyers do. I’ve seen it in the movies.”

“You don’t know?”

“You’re my first case.” She set her purse down on the steel table. “Don’t look so strange; someone has to be my first case. You just happen to be the lucky one.”

“Great.” He looked back at the window. It had been raining bad luck most of his life, and it looked like the clouds wouldn’t pass anytime soon.

She didn’t seem to notice he’d stepped out of the conversation even if he was still in the room. She walked around the cell telling him how bad it smelled and how they really needed to paint the place and how if she were him she wouldn’t sit on anything in the room. When she circled around to him and complained that he could play the Mud Man in a horror flick, she finally got his attention.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me questions or something? Don’t you want to know what happened tonight?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I already know what happened. My brother called me from the hospital to tell me Reagan explained everything. It appears, Gabriel
Leary
, you’re a hero.”

“I learned a long time ago that there are no heroes, only survivors.”

“The doc said you may have saved Reagan’s life. He said if the gash on her forehead had gone untreated five more minutes, she might have died. If she’d been out in the cold much longer, wet and bleeding, she might have frozen to death. Like it or not, you saved her life.”

“If I’m such a hero, why don’t they let me out of here?”

“My brother said they’re heading over now so Alex can apologize for almost blowing you away.” She raised her hand and pulled a dirt clod from his hair, then made a face and tossed it in the corner. “What did you do, roll in the creek?”

“Something like that.” Gabe frowned and pushed her hand away when she reached for another clod. “I don’t want to talk to them. I just want out of here. You’re my lawyer, get me out. Even a bunny should be able to do that for an innocent man.” He fluffed the fake fur of her hood, still tucked around her face.

She crossed her arms just below her breasts and looked pouty . . . absolutely nothing like a lawyer should look. “I’m not a rabbit or a genie from a bottle. There’s paperwork to fill out . . . probably . . . and who knows what else.”

“Who knows?” he snapped. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“Stop yelling at me,” she yelled. “I’ll figure this out.” She moved to the door. “Jess.” She tapped. “Can you take my client somewhere to clean up and cool off? If he gets any harder to talk to, I may have to clobber him with my purse.”

Jess opened the unlocked door. “He can go anywhere he wants as long as he doesn’t leave the building. Sheriff said she wanted a few words with him. They should have been here by now. I guess the blizzard slowed them down a bit.”

“Blizzard?” Gabe asked.

“Yeah, it’s coming down like crazy. You folks might want to stay here tonight. We got lots of empty cells.”

“No thanks,” Gabe and Elizabeth said at once.

Gabe pushed past them both and moved down the hallway to a restroom. He washed some of the blood off his hands and neck where Reagan had rested her head against his chest, but he could still smell it. A few hours ago, he’d walked over thinking he’d beat the snow back home, but now he was stranded without his coat, and his supper was probably spilled somewhere along the creek bed.

A few hours ago he’d only been thinking of walking through the cold and getting a meal. He’d worked hard all day and needed the fresh air to clear his mind and his thoughts of Elizabeth. He’d even noticed he’d penciled her image on one of the layouts for a graphic novel he was working on.

Gabe told himself he’d only see her once a week. One time, one kiss if she’d allow it. That was all he could hope for. But deep down he knew he’d circle by the office every time he walked into town. Not to check his mail, but to see if her lights were on. He liked to stand in the shadows of the courthouse and watch her turn off the lights in her office. Even with her drapes closed, he could see a few tiny pinpoints of light from her nightlight. He knew she was in there, sleeping. He knew she was safe.

Most nights it was enough just to know she was there.

Gabe ran his fingers through his hair, shaking away dried mud. He stared at himself in the restroom mirror. Little of the soldier he’d been five years ago looked back at him now. He’d loved being Gabe Wiseman. He’d traded names with the real Wiseman one night in boot camp. Wiseman was sneaking out, planning to get high. The guy was so messed up on drugs, he had trouble remembering he was in the army. The two Gabriels looked so much alike people were always getting them mixed up, so Wiseman thought it would be fun to wear Leary’s uniform on his outings just in case he was caught. He’d said simply, “I’m from a long line of dead heroes. If I got busted, it’d make the papers, but with you, Leary, no one would care.”

Gabe hadn’t liked the idea, but Wiseman offered the use of his car as a bribe and swore he’d never be caught. At eighteen, the car seemed worth the risk.

Only Wiseman didn’t get busted. He got dead three nights before they were to graduate and ship out. The next morning when the drill sergeant woke Gabe up, he kept calling him Private Wiseman. Gabe buried his past in the coffin with his uniform and picked up his new name along with the advantages that came with it. He’d been young and dreamed of being a hero. Switching names gave him the chance.

Doors began to open for him. He was now the son, the grandson, the great-grandson of warriors, not like Gabe Leary, the son of a worthless, lazy drunk who farmed just enough to pay the bills and buy more booze.

So Gabe kept the name and his mouth closed. No one noticed. The day after he buried his friend, he climbed on a plane and flew to one of the best training camps in the country, a program Wiseman’s name had gotten him into. The only thing in his pack from his past were a dozen comic books and a sketchpad. At the time he thought he’d said good-bye to the name Leary forever, but one bomb blew him all the way back home.

Gabe squared his shoulders. Because of what had happened tonight, he was about to have to talk to people. People who would judge him as a Leary. They’d know nothing of the soldier he’d been, the hero. In this small town, he’d never be anything but the son of a drunk.

He walked out of the restroom and down the hallway to a large room full of desks.

Elizabeth handed him a cup of coffee. “Jess says we can wait in Alex’s office. By the way, how’d you know where to find me?”

“Jess told me I might want to call my lawyer. When I said I didn’t have your number on me, he told me you were out at the ranch. Apparently, he’d already called there looking for Hank and had a visit with one of the aunts.”

She laughed. “That’s a small town for you. How’d you stay out of the loop for so long?”

He hesitated. He’d spent five years avoiding the people of Harmony. Dreading how they’d treat him. “Just lucky, I guess,” he lied. “Do we have to wait? I’d just as soon go.”

Elizabeth seemed to understand. “It’s all right. I’m here with you.”

“As my lawyer?”

“As your friend.” She hesitated, then added, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to charge you for the consultation before they released you.”

“What consultation? The only advice I remember was on redecorating the holding cell.”

“I know,” she admitted. “But I thought about your problem all the way into town. That should count. I’ll bill you fifty dollars for the half hour I spent scraping off my car and getting here.”

Gabe glared at her. “Lucky you didn’t stop to change clothes or I’d owe double.”

He followed her into the sheriff’s office and sat down at a round table by a long row of windows. Gabe could see snow coming down hard. “I walked in tonight,” he said more to himself than her. “Know of a place where I can rent a room tonight and maybe get a meal? Someplace quiet with a shower and a bed. I don’t like being around people.”

“I figured that out already. I’m surprised you didn’t take off out the back door a few minutes ago.”

“I thought about it,” he admitted.

“Why didn’t you?”

“No coat. Snowing. You.” Smiling, he added, “Not necessarily in that order.”

She pulled out her cell and dialed a number. “You got money?” she asked as she waited.

“I got money,” he answered.

She looked away. Someone on the other end must have picked up. “Martha Q,” she said into the phone. “Can you put someone up for the night? It’s an emergency.”

She listened for a minute and then added, “I’ll bring him over in a while. I’m glad I didn’t wake you.”

As he watched Elizabeth click her phone closed, the silence of the room ended. Three people hurried into the office—Alexandra McAllen, the sheriff he’d heard a hundred times from his place outside her window and met once with a gun between them; Hank Matheson, Harmony’s fire chief; and an old man who had to be Jeremiah Truman.

Gabe stood and managed a nod at their greeting. First the old man thanked him for saving Reagan and gave a report about how she was doing. “She’s all I got in this world, son.” Jeremiah’s voice cracked slightly. “If you ever need anything . . . anything, I’m in your debt.”

Gabe wished he could have told the old guy that if it hadn’t been for him fixing his father’s junker of a car five years ago so his father could get him out of the hospital, Gabe would be dead.

Jeremiah took his hand, not shaking, just gripping it. When they stared at one another, Gabe thought he saw the image of a warrior in the old guy’s eyes and wondered if Jeremiah saw it in his.

Then Hank insisted on taking the old guy home and the moment was gone. Jeremiah shuffled out as Hank said good-bye to Gabe, kissed Alex on the cheek, and nodded for Liz to follow him out.

Suddenly, Gabe was alone with the sheriff.

“Please, Mr. Leary,” she began. “Sit down. I’d like to go over the details just for the report. It won’t take a minute.”

He followed orders.

“Just tell me in your own words what happened.”

“I always go by for a takeout meal from the diner on Wednesdays,” he began. “I like to walk over even when it’s cold. Reagan must have thought she’d meet me at the trees near the old creek.”

“Has she done that before?”

“Yes.”

“Go on, Mr. Leary.”

“I like to follow the creek bed into town. It’s off the streets and I run into fewer people.”

“You don’t like people?” she asked.

“It’s not that,” he lied. “I just like being alone. I was about to climb up the incline to the back lot of the Blue Moon when I spotted her lying real still. For a second, I thought she was dead, but when I lifted her head, I felt the warm blood. I couldn’t carry her with my bad leg, so I dragged her atop my coat into the café. I’d just started emergency aid when you came in.”

He met her stare. Guessing what she was going to ask him.

“How’d you know I wouldn’t shoot you?”

“I saw it. Nervous people fire by accident, but your hand was steady. I saw your eyes. You don’t have what it takes, Sheriff, to kill an unarmed man.”

She leaned forward. “You were armed. Jess found the gun strapped to your leg.”

Gabe nodded. “But you didn’t know that, and I never would have drawn on you.” He knew he remembered enough of his training that he could have disarmed her, or shot her before she could fire, but those days were long past.

“Then why do you wear a gun, Mr. Leary, if you wouldn’t have drawn it?”

He looked away, thinking of how to answer the question. He hated lying, but he wasn’t sure she’d understand the truth. “It feels right. I feel complete knowing it’s there.” He turned to meet her gaze. “I need to be prepared. Maybe nothing will ever happen in my lifetime, but if it does, I need to believe I’m ready.”

“And if you draw your gun?” she asked.

“I’ll fire if I have to.”

He saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes. Something terrible had happened in her life. Something violent. Maybe she needed to always be prepared, just like him.

She finally leaned back. “Is the gun registered?”

“No.”

She didn’t look surprised. “I suppose if I asked you to it would ...”

“Fall in the lake,” they both said at once.

Alex smiled, knowing that trying to get all Texans to register all their guns was like trying to catch fleas with a bass fishing net. “Carry it on your land, but leave it at home when you come to town.”