The Last Hour (25 page)

Dylan said. “Someone gets to stay with Carrie at all times. Otherwise you’re going to have to go get that warrant. Her husband’s in there having his brain operated on, all right? Have some compassion, for Christ’s sake.”

Alex put her hand on Dylan’s shoulder as he spoke. Then she said, “I can stay with her.”

Johnson shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. But we start with this joker,” he said, pointing at Dylan. He gave a pointed look to Alex. “Him we’ll question without anyone else here.”

Alex gave Detective Johnson a withering look, then turned to Dylan and whispered, “Be nice. Don’t get in any more trouble.”

“All right,” he said to her. “I’ll stay calm.”

Alex kissed him. “I’ll be with Carrie.” Then she stood and slipped out of the room.

Tension descended. Dylan looked back and forth between Smalls and Johnson and said, “All right. Question away.”

Johnson took out a notebook and leaned forward, then said, “Why don’t we start out with your name, and your relationship with the victims.”

Dylan winced at the term victims. “Dylan Paris. Ray and I went through basic training together. We were assigned to the same unit at Fort Drum, New York, and then deployed to Afghanistan. He ended up as my fire team leader when he got promoted to Sergeant. He married my wife’s sister, so we’re family.”

“You’re close?”

Dylan blinked then said, “Very. I never had a brother, but ... I see Ray as a brother. I trust him more than anyone else on earth.” His voice was raw as he spoke the last few words. It was hard listening to that. Because I felt the same way, and it was obvious from the tension in his shoulders and jaw to the slight shaking in his hands, that this accident, if that’s what it was, was tearing Dylan up. I walked over to the window and looked outside as the questioning continued. We were on the fourth floor, and I could see down to the streets below. Heavy traffic out there. It was summer time on a Saturday night in downtown DC. People were headed out to bars and clubs, parties and plays and a hundred other activities. Living their normal lives, going on with all of the things that people did. It was hard for me to connect all of that to where we were, in this hospital, waiting to find out if I was going to live or die, waiting to find out if and when Sarah would wake up.

“All right, Mr. Paris. Given what you’ve told me, I’m gonna let go of the fact that your borderline assaulted a police officer. But any more bullshit like that happens again and off to jail you go. Understand?”

“Sure,” Dylan said, his voice still rough. This cop was a complete asshole.

“When did you learn about the accident?”

“About noon. The social worker in the emergency room called Alex.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes. So we jumped in a cab and headed straight to the airport, while she called to get a flight. We were able to get the first flight out of JFK.”

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Paris?”

“We’re both students at Columbia University.”

I turned around. I was behind Smalls, near the window, and I looked over her shoulder as she took notes in her own notebook.
 

“Mr. Paris, I want you to think carefully. Can you think of anyone who would want to harm your brother-in-law?”

Dylan sat there, staring at him. Then, quietly, he said, “Some of the survivors from our platoon were pretty angry with him. But I can’t imagine it going this far. Why do you think it was intentional? Who was driving the other vehicle?”

Johnson raised his eyebrows and said, “Mr. Paris, right now I’m the one asking questions.”

Dylan’s eyebrows drew together, and he responded, “Detective, you’re telling me someone may have
attempted
to murder my brother-in-law, when we all thought it was an accident. I think we deserve some ... some….”

Dylan’s fist clenched, and his face went red. Aww, Christ. His aphasia always kicked in when he was stressed or angry, and just made it worse. Finally, he spit out the word, “Explanation.”

Smalls said, “As soon as we come to some conclusions, we’ll let you know, Paris. It’s too early, and I’m sure you’d agree that the last thing we want to do in an investigation is jump to conclusions.”

Dylan gave her a bitter look and said, “Yeah. You’re right about that.”

Johnson asked, “Why do you use the term
survivors
?”

Dylan shook his head then ticked off his fingers as he said, “Lee got shot our first week in the country and was evacuated. Kowalski was killed by a grenade. An IED killed Roberts and fucked up my leg. Weber was killed by a sniper. Staff Sergeant Martin got shot. Six out of sixteen men killed and wounded in the first four months of the deployment. I was gone by then, and didn’t know them, but two of the replacements were killed too, later on.”

“And why were the
survivors
angry with your brother-in-law?”

“Have you been living under a rock, Detective?” Dylan looked at Smalls, his face incredulous.

“Just answer the question, Mr. Paris.”

Dylan shook his head and said, “Because about a month after I was evacuated, Sergeant Colton shot a civilian. And Ray reported it. The investigation’s been dragging on most of the year now.”

Johnson sat back, his face unreadable. Finally he said, “I think that’ll be all for now, Mr. Paris. You can go. I’ll be by in a few minutes to collect your sister-in-law.”

“All right,” Dylan said, getting to his feet. He walked to the door, his limp more pronounced than usual. He was getting tired.

The moment the door shut, Johnson was on his feet. He walked to the window, an angry expression on his face, and turned toward Smalls.

“All right, Major. You want to explain why you didn’t tell me this was about that war crimes trial?”

Smalls crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Detective, you came in here half-cocked, ordered us to leave, then got into a physical altercation with a witness. At one point did you stop and ask us?”

“So our victim was your star witness? There was a GPS tracker on that car, Major, and it was originally purchased by the other driver. And the kids who got hurt ... they were ... what, innocent bystanders? Just unlucky to be in the same accident?”

I was holding my breath at this point. Who the hell was driving that jeep? Why didn’t I look? The thought that the horror of Afghanistan had somehow reached out and hurt, possibly killed, Sarah or Daniel made me want to scream. For me it seemed somehow inevitable, but the idea of Sarah being harmed by the war? Or Carrie, or Alex, or any of them? It was unthinkable, unconscionable, and more than anything else I wanted to find out
who
was driving the other vehicle. I couldn’t grab their notebooks and leaf through them. But I could damn sure listen in on their conversations. And maybe find out who hurt Sarah ... and Daniel. Find out who tried to kill me. And there was one more thing I knew. I knew that strong emotions sometimes crossed right over.
 

I knew that if anyone involved with hurting her was still around, they were going to pay.

“Carrie,” Dylan said. “Um ... the police want to talk to you.”

I squeezed Alexandra’s hand and said, “Alexandra explained what was going on. I’m ready.”

He nodded. Something in his expression seemed lost in the empty space between grief and rage. Even as confused and lost as I felt right now, I wanted to reach out and hug him and erase that expression from his face.
 

Alexandra asked in a low voice, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m gonna take a walk. Go with Carrie, I’ll be fine.” His jaw was working, grinding his teeth. I wanted to tell him to stop, to not feel this way, that everything was going to be okay. But I knew that was a lie.

He was like that the morning Major Smalls took Ray away. I’d called them that morning, in shock, not knowing what else to do. I remember picking up the phone and dialing Alexandra’s number without even thinking. She answered right away, sounding groggy, but when I told them what had happened, she didn’t hesitate.

“We’ll be there right away,” she had said, and hung up. True to her promise, Dylan and Alexandra were at my hotel room door twenty minutes later. By that time I’d taken a shower and changed and packed my bag. I wouldn’t be staying.

Dylan had insisted on hearing every detail. What did Major Smalls say? How about the FBI? How did Ray react? Did they give any indication of when we would know more?

All I could do was hand over the copy of the orders Ray had handed me. In the confusion of the moment, I’d forgotten to give them back to him.

Dylan read over it, an incredulous look on his face. Then he muttered a curse and paced away from me. “I’ve never seen orders like this. Call up on the same day with no notice at all? I guess they probably did that with some units on September 11, but for an inactive reservist? That doesn’t happen.”

I hadn’t really understood. “Why did they do that?”

He sighed. “Well ... there’s basically thee possibilities. Either they’re afraid of him running, refusing to testify. Or, they think he did something, and he’s going to be put on trial himself. Or they think he might be in danger.”

“Why would he be in danger?” I asked.

Dylan looked at me, his face distraught. “I’m not going to lie. Ray’s report is going to ruin some lives. People may go to prison for it. People we both know and love.” He had closed his eyes and run his fingers through his hair, almost like he was scrubbing his scalp. “You can’t imagine the courage it must have taken for him to send that report.”

His words may not have communicated the gravity of it, but his demeanor did. Especially when he said, “I almost wish he’d just ... not said anything. Listen to me, Carrie. I’m only saying this because he’s not here to say it. But I know he would, because he loves you and wants what’s best for you.”

“What?” I had asked.

He looked me in the eye and said, “This is only going to get ... very ugly ... from here. It’s not too late for you to walk away.”

Alexandra had gasped at the words, and I know my mouth gaped. They made me angry, and defensive. What kind of person did he think I was? Did Dylan really think I owed so little loyalty to the people I loved?

My teeth clenched, I asked, “Is that what you’re going to do? Walk away from your friend?”

“I owe Ray my life,” he replied. “I’ll go to hell with him, if necessary.”

I sniffed, my eyes suddenly watering. “Then I guess we all go there together.”

It was hard to think about his words now. About the warning in his eyes. Would I make the same decision now, knowing what we went through? Yes. In a heartbeat. Except for one thing, one little thing that put everything in doubt. That decision, that loyalty, put my sister Sarah at risk of death. Right now, there was nothing I could do for either one of them, lying there in their beds, Ray in surgery, Sarah in intensive care. I couldn’t alter their prospects, or heal them, or do anything. But I could damn well see that they got some justice.

“Come on,” I said to Alexandra, my voice firm. For the first time since I’d arrived at the hospital, I felt like the fog had cleared from my brain, and that I had a course of action ahead of me. As limited as it might be, I had something I could
do.
“Let’s go talk to the police.”

And then I was up and moving, faster than I think Alexandra was ready for, because I had to stop and wait for her to catch up. Then we walked together, down the hall to the conference room where the police and Army were waiting.

The room was small, with a tiny conference table. On the left side were Major Smalls and an Army Sergeant. Opposite me was an older man, his hair thinning, who wore a frayed grey suit. I took a seat, and Alexandra sat down next to me.

“I’m Carrie Thompson-Sherman, I understand you have some questions.”

“I’m Detective Johnson. District of Columbia homicide.”

I tried not to wince. Homicide cop. Someone was already assuming that Ray wasn’t going to make it.

“What can I do for you, Detective Johnson?”

“First, I’d like you to just tell me in your own words about the accident. What do you remember?”

“We were on our way to the zoo—Ray and I, along with my two younger twin sisters, Sarah and Jessica. Traffic was pretty heavy on Connecticut Avenue, this was along the stretch just north of the zoo, and we had slowed down almost to a stop behind the car in front of us, which put us right in the middle of the intersection. I glanced over at Ray, and saw a green Jeep coming at us. And then it hit.”

“Was the jeep going fast?”

I nodded. “My car’s a late seventies Mercedes Benz, Detective, it’s as solid a vehicle as you can get. The other car must have been going at a very high speed.”

It was odd. I felt calm ... almost cold. Angry, and unwilling to let myself show any emotion at all in front of Major Smalls, or this detective.
 

“Mrs. Sherman…”

Alexandra interrupted. “That’s
Doctor
Thompson-Sherman.”

I waved a hand at Alexandra. “I could care less about that right now. Detective, call me Carrie, and let’s get this over with.”

Johnson looked back and forth between the two of us. “All right. Carrie. Do you have any reason to believe that someone might want to harm you or your husband?”

Had this guy not done any homework at all? A flash of irritation swept across me. “Over the last four months we’ve reported multiple threats to the Montgomery County Police. I’m sure if you check their files you’ll find the complaints. As far as I know, nothing was done about them.”

Smalls leaned forward, her face puzzled. “Carrie, why didn’t I know about this?”

I raised my eyebrows. “What would you have done, Major? Stopped the trial? Somehow made the media go away? We had threats from right-wingers who thought Ray was a traitor and left-wingers who thought he was a war criminal. A few of them sounded serious enough we called the police, but nothing happened.”

Alexandra grabbed my hand. I hadn’t told her about the phone calls, the anonymous emails. I hadn’t told anyone but the police.
 

Johnson ran his hand through his thinning hair and said, “Were there any threats from people you knew?”