The Final Line (7 page)

Corey indicated Sean should lead the way. As they exited into the rear parking lot, they were greeted by the small group that had come outside for cigarettes. Sean shook a few hands, introduced Corey, then led them further out to avoid the smoke.

Outside, the temperature was cooler and the noise level dropped significantly. Corey took a deep breath, the muscles of his neck and shoulders releasing their tension suddenly. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Corey tugged it out, not bothering to hide the irritation that had his back tensing again.

He was aware of Sean watching him as he checked the phone’s display. When Corey saw Michael Nygaard’s name, he curled his lip in disgust. “Fuck him,” he muttered, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

“Problem?” Sean asked, expression tense.

“Not if I don’t answer the phone,” Corey replied.

Sean nodded and folded his arms over his chest, feet planted. His expression was smooth but Corey saw the muscles in his jaw flex. His posture reminded Corey of the night before, in this very parking lot. His chest tightened as he realized something had gone wrong when he’d dropped his situational awareness.

“I’ll go back inside so you can have some privacy.” Sean turned stiffly and took two steps toward the door.

A chill ran through Corey when it occurred to him what Sean was assuming. “It’s just some asshole I served with in Afghanistan. He only calls when he needs something and he can’t get someone in his platoon to do it for him.”

Sean turned back and stared hard at Corey for several long moments. Corey held his gaze steadily, assuming Sean was gauging whether or not to believe him.

“You didn’t blow me off last night ‘cause you had a boyfriend waiting back at base?” Sean abruptly demanded.

“No fucking way,” Corey replied with an emphatic shake of his head.

Sean pressed his lips into a thin line like he was still deciding if he could believe Corey. He finally sighed explosively. “Okay,” he said quietly, his tension easing slightly. “I should get back on stage.”

Corey watched Sean’s stiff back as they walked back into the bar. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to actually tell Sean a few things about himself if this was ever going to get past flirtation.

Things were cooler between them after that and it bothered Corey. He started out telling himself it was because he wanted Sean. He needed to work Sean out of his system. By the time the night was over and Sean was putting his guitar into its case, Corey missed Sean’s previously warm enthusiasm.

Corey climbed up on stage and began to tear down the microphones and the stand.

“You don’t have to do this tonight,” Sean said in a flat tone.

“If I help you’ll be done faster and we can get breakfast that much sooner,” he replied as if that had always been the definitive plan.

Sean’s expression was still implacable but Corey thought he might see a spark of hope in his eyes.

“Okay,” Sean said on a sigh.

Corey made a trip to Sean’s SUV with the amplifier. They both wished Linda a good night as they carried the rest of the gear out the back door together.

“Any idea where you want to go?” Corey asked, closing the hatch of the SUV. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. “Fuck.” He tugged it out, intending to ignore the call. It wasn’t a number he didn’t recognize but was a 760 area code. “This might be the base.”

Corey’s stomach twisted when Sean folded his arms across his chest again. It was undoubtedly Sean’s tell.

“Staff Sergeant Yarwood,” he barked into the phone.

“Staff Sergeant Yarwood, this is Corrections Sergeant Manny Lopez at Vista Detention Facility,” said an unfamiliar male voice.

Corey rolled his eyes in annoyance. He wondered which of his fuck-up friends had gotten his ass tossed into jail. “What can I do for you, Sergeant?” he asked, resigned. He was achingly aware of Sean watching him closely.

“We have a Sergeant Nygaard in custody for homicide and he asked us to contact you,” Lopez answered.

Corey’s eyes shot to Sean’s and he froze. His heart slammed against his ribs as he asked, “I’m sorry, did you say homicide?”

Sean’s eyes widened and he frowned, his mouth falling open slightly in surprise.

Lopez spoke again. “Sergeant Nygaard has confessed to beating his girlfriend to death.”

“Fuck,” Corey whispered. His mind raced and he began to walk slowly in a circle as he tried to sort this out. “I don’t understand why you’re calling me.”

“When we arrest you active duty folks for something this serious, we’re required to notify your command,” Lopez replied. “Command usually takes care of notifying family so arrangements can be made for bail and attorneys.”

Corey rubbed a hand up and down the bristles of hair on the back of his head as he continued to pace in a circle. “Nygaard and I don’t share a billet any longer; we haven’t since we returned from Afghanistan. Even back then, I was never his Platoon Sergeant.”

“When we asked him for a contact number at the time the detectives booked him in, he gave us yours.” When Corey didn’t reply, Sergeant Lopez kept talking. “When he gave us the number he said you’d understand. You know what happened to him and why he is the way he is.”

Corey pinched the bridge of his nose. His body was tense from head to boots and he was breathing like he’d just swum the length of the BRC pool underwater. He clenched his jaw against a sudden wave of nausea. “I have no idea what that means,” Corey said through his teeth.

He jumped and gasped, curling his hand into a fist at the feel of a hand gripping his arm. Corey’s eyes snapped open to identify his attacker and found Sean’s hazel eyes watching his face closely. When Sean’s concerned expression shifted to confusion and wariness, Corey took a deep breath and shook out his fisted hand.

“If you know of previous incidents of violence involving Sergeant Nygaard, the homicide detectives are going to want to talk to you,” Lopez said. “Has he beat up his girlfriend before?”

“I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend,” Corey exclaimed. “Is it possible he’s talking about a combat incident?” He didn’t need an answer to that question, Corey already knew.

Sean was running his palm up and down Corey’s arm soothingly. He stepped closer, until Corey could feel the heat of his body. It bolstered him, he drew strength from it. It was a new and unfamiliar sensation. Without thinking, he curled his fingers around the back of Sean’s neck, cradled him, and stroked his thumb over Sean’s sharp cheekbone.

“No one seems sure of anything other than the fact he beat a young woman to death with his bare hands,” the sergeant answered. “You’d be allowed to see him briefly if you thought it would help to sort this out, but I still have to notify his command.”

“I don’t have access to a car,” Corey bemoaned. Sean waved a hand to get Corey’s attention. “Give me just a second, Sergeant.”

“I’ll drive you if you need to go,” Sean said. “This sounds serious.”

“That would be asking too much,” Corey answered sharply.

“It’ll give us a chance to talk,” Sean whispered, his eyes almost pleading. “This has to do with that phone call earlier, doesn’t it?”

That made Corey pause. Until this moment, he’d forgotten that Nygaard had tried to call him directly, earlier in the night. “Okay.” Corey relented.

He told the Corrections Sergeant he’d be there in thirty mikes and disconnected the call.

“Let’s go,” Sean said, pulling his keys from his jeans pocket.

As they pulled onto the freeway onramp, Corey turned to Sean. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”

“It’s obviously not your fault,” Sean replied evenly. “Now tell me who this guy is, what he supposedly did and why you’re getting pulled into it.”

“I have no fucking idea where to start,” Corey said in frustration. “Nygaard was one of several sergeants in my platoon in Afghanistan.” He rubbed his jaw, feeling the barest hint of stubble. The disgust he always felt of late, when he had to deal with Nygaard, curled through him. “He’s a decent Marine but he gets belt-fed when he has to so much as take a shit.”

“You’re a staff sergeant so you outrank him, right?” Sean asked.

“I was promoted meritoriously when we returned from deployment.” Corey shifted in his seat and his leg began to bounce violently. “In Afghanistan, we held the same rank but my job within the platoon meant I was higher up in the hierarchy. He was in charge of a team of five Marines when we went on missions.”

“So, what did he do to make you hate him?” Sean sounded baffled.

Corey straightened his legs as much as he could. He fisted both hands where they rested on his thighs. “I didn’t say I hated him.”

Sean glanced repeatedly from the road to Corey’s face. “You didn’t see your face when you checked your phone the first time he called.”

Clenching his jaw, Corey turned away from Sean to stare out his window. “He acts like he and I are friends. He talks like there are some big secrets only the two of us know. He pretends we’ve been through some sort of hellish battle that bonded us forever.” He turned back to look at Sean. “It’s fucking creepy and it pisses me off.”

“Is it possible something you guys experienced affected him more than it did you?” Sean’s question was frighteningly intuitive.

“Just before we came home, the platoon was hit by an IED and we lost a couple of Marines.” Corey straightened his dog tags and his leg started to bounce again. “The LT ordered me to take part of the platoon and engage the hostiles inside a nearby house. We eliminated the threat. The Afghanis won’t let it the fuck go.”

“And now this guy has murdered his girlfriend?” Sean questioned. He continued without waiting for Corey to respond, “So many of you guys have come back with PTS. Is it possible that’s this guy’s problem?”

Corey remembered how Nygaard was always a little more enthusiastic about their kills, and at the same time he seemed to have zero empathy and compassion for the populace. “I might be wrong but I don’t think PTS turns us evil. It might turn a wife-beating asshole into a killer but I don’t think it turns good men into killers.” Corey needed to believe that was true.

Sean was silent for a long while.

Dread settled, cold and heavy, in Corey’s gut. He hastily blurted to Sean, “I haven’t had any violent incidents since I’ve been back.”

Sean looked at Corey in surprise. “That thought never occurred to me. Why would you think I thought you were dangerous?”

“I don’t know.” Cory shrugged in aggravation. “It just seemed like that’s where that entire conversation ended up.” He’d cut his own fucking hands off before he let himself harm Sean. “So…I just…I ignored that call earlier because I hate this guy and I thought he was calling ’cause he wanted to hang out, or was drunk somewhere and wanted a ride. He’s not an ex.”

“I get that now,” Sean said quietly. “I just couldn’t think of any other reason you would show that much hatred for someone who was calling you.”

The pain in Corey’s belly eased. He took a deep breath and managed to get his body to relax a little. Maybe he hadn’t totally fucked things up with Sean. “I just don’t know why he was calling
me
earlier. I have no idea if it was before or after he’d killed her.” Corey hoped to hell ignoring that phone call hadn’t cost a woman her life.

Corey snorted derisively when another thought occurred to him. “He probably wanted help hiding her body,” he said with hostility, scrubbing both hands over his short hair.

“Jesus,” Sean whispered.

They were silent as Sean pulled off the freeway and made the short drive to Vista Detention Facility. It was easy to find the public parking.

When Sean shut off the engine, the resulting quiet was jarring.

“Do you want to wait here?” Corey asked. “I don’t know how long this is going to take. I’m not sure they’ll let you come in, though.”

Sean’s answer was to open his door. “If they won’t let me in, I’ll wait in the car.”

Corey’s relief was acute and he hadn’t been aware he’d wanted Sean to come with him. He hoped the deputies would let him inside.

At the after-hours public pedestrian door, Corey thumbed the button on the small call box.

“Can I help you?” A tinny voice barked.

Looking up into the camera above the door, Corey said in a loud voice, “Staff Sergeant Corey Yarwood, USMC, I’m looking for Sergeant Manny Lopez regarding Marine Sergeant Michael Nygaard.”

“Just a minute, Staff Sergeant,” the voice replied.

Corey walked in a small circle to hide his agitation and anxiety. He glanced up to see Sean standing a few feet away, hands buried in the front pockets of his jeans. He was watching Corey closely. At least he didn’t have his arms folded over his chest again.

The door opened and a deputy sheriff emerged, dressed in the familiar uniform of khaki blouse and olive green trousers. His brass nameplate said his last name was Pierce. “Staff Sergeant Yarwood?”

Corey took a single step forward. “I’m Yarwood. I needed to catch a ride here.” He indicated Sean. “Can my friend come in with me or does he need to wait in the car?”

“If he drove here, I assume he’s got picture ID?” Pierce asked.

“Yes, sir,” Sean answered quickly.

Pierce held the door open wide for them both to enter. “Let’s get you two logged in as visitors and then I’ll take you Sergeant Lopez’s office.” Stopping in front of a wall filled with medium sized lock boxes, the deputy said, “Put all your personal belongings, except your picture IDs, in a lockup. Wallets, cell phones, car keys, anything and everything.”

It took just a few seconds for Corey and Sean to stash their gear in boxes and punch their codes into the electronic locking mechanisms. Next, Deputy Pierce led them down a short corridor toward a counter topped with bullet resistant plastic, much like he’d begun to see in banks.

VDF was much like every other jail Corey had been in. Luckily, he’d always been the one doing the bailing, never the one getting bailed out. It was cold and sterile, with concrete floors and smooth, off-white walls. The fluorescent lighting reflected off of the flat white of the walls, the glare nearly painful. Doors, sills and the counter ahead were all painted a pleasant shade of royal blue, but nothing could really make a jail a happy place. The scent of antiseptic never completely wiped away the musty jail smell. Beneath it all was the constant odor of unwashed bodies, excrement and vomit.