The Homecoming (21 page)

“After I called in my location, I turned on the front-facing floodlights. Then I got out of the cruiser as quickly as possible, because one of the things they teach you in the academy is that your car is your coffin.”

“And isn’t that an encouraging thought?” He’d been in some Hummers in the Kush where he’d felt exactly the same way, but he hated the idea of Kara being in the same situation.

“Admittedly it sounds extreme, but it’s true. The one thing you don’t want to do is get trapped in your patrol car by taking too much time to release the seat belt, or retrieve your citation book and give anyone inside the car a chance to jump out and attack you.

“Looking back on the situation, which I had to do during the IA investigation, and again in the courtroom when I was called to testify, because the guy actually pleaded not guilty, claiming he believed his life was in danger from a rogue cop—”

“Which was bullshit.”

The corners of her lips lifted in a hint of a smile. “Thanks for the vote of support.”

“I’ve seen guys go rogue. It’s one of the dangers of spending too much time in a war zone. But anyone who knows you would know there’s not a rogue bone in your body. You were probably the most by-the-book cop on the force.”

“Anyway, I
did
do everything by the book that night. A lot of what happened during the confrontation is a blur, but I clearly remember lifting up a little on the trunk as I went by, just as I’d been taught, to make sure no one was hiding in there.

“I’d just gotten up to the driver’s-side door when, the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, fighting to keep my weapon from this hopped-up meth dealer—who, from the way he’d freaked, apparently had a liking for his own product.

“I got beaten up pretty bad, but I managed to call in on my radio mike. And the dashboard camera showed that while we were grappling for my gun, I managed to shoot him in the thigh. He got back in the car and took off, but they caught up with him a few miles down the highway, and, like Trey said, after a jury found him guilty, he’s doing time.”

She drew in a long breath. Let it out. “You know how, during high-stress situations, time seems to slow down?”

“Yeah.” He was all too familiar with that concept.

“Well, while the altercation seemed to last a lifetime as it was happening, my cruiser’s dashboard camera and dispatch records show that a pair of patrol cars managed to arrive within two minutes of my call.”

“Thank God.” Never, in his worst nightmares, could Sax have pictured the smart, shy girl he’d gotten his first—and only—crush on in such a life-or-death situation.

“I’ve gone over it again and again, and I don’t think I made a mistake, but it’s possible that I lost concentration for just that all-important second as I approached the driver’s-side door. It would have been Jared’s and my anniversary, and my mind kept jumping back and forth between that day in Tijuana when we got married to the day his lieutenant and the police chaplain arrived to break the news of his death.”

“That had to have been tough.”

“It was. And oddly, a lot tougher than coming close to dying myself. You know how they say the first stage is denial?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I fell headfirst right into it. The minute I saw the unmarked police vehicle drive up the day Jared died, I suddenly felt cold all over. Because if he’d just been taken to the hospital, I would’ve gotten a call. Their faces, when they got out of the car, told me he was dead.

“So, as crazy as it probably sounds, I figured that if I bolted the door, if I refused to answer it, if I didn’t let them give me that ‘We regret to inform you’ spiel, Jared wouldn’t really be dead.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“They rang the bell. Knocked on the door. Of course they knew I was in there, because my car was parked outside on the street. So, although it sounds ridiculously dramatic, I dropped down to the floor and crawled into the back bedroom, then climbed out the window. And began running.

“The lieutenant saw me cut across the lawn and took off after me. He tackled me halfway across a neighborhood park. Which definitely captured everyone’s attention. And probably horrified him as we rolled around on the grass, with me screaming like a banshee.”

Except for that one night, she’d always been as cool as a cucumber. Sax couldn’t imagine the pain she must’ve been experiencing to behave so out of character.

“I’m sorry. That you had to go through that.”

She drew in a deep breath. Although there’d been only that one tear, she scrubbed at her face with her hands. “You know what they say—about what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she closed her eyes again and shook her head. “Damn. Of course you know that.”

“We’re not talking about me,” he said. “What happened up in the Kush was a risk of the job. I knew that going in and each and every time we went out on a mission. You, on the other hand, were blindsided.”

“I was a military wife. A cop’s wife. A cop myself, dammit. I knew the risks. And accepted them.”

“Knowing in the abstract isn’t anything like actually expecting anything to happen. Look, one minute you were living a fairly ordinary life, probably worrying about how to pay bills like everyone else, making grocery lists, thinking about some school play your kid might be in; then suddenly, without warning, your world turned upside down and inside out. And yours and Jared’s and your son’s lives changed forever.”

“You nailed it.” She glanced up at him. “How did you know?”

“Because I’ve made a few of those calls myself. Fortunately not the announcement ones, but I’ve visited homes of team members I lost over the years. The parents are hard enough to take, but the wives . . .”

It was his turn to take a deep breath. He dragged his hands through his hair as he thought back on Cowboy’s pregnant wife. Randy’s fiancée. Jake’s wife and mother of his twin toddler daughters who’d been too young to grasp the enormity of their loss.

“You were just a kid, about the same age as Trey, when you fell in love with Jared. You were still a kid when you married him, when you sent him off to war, and sure, you knew that death occurs in the military. And on the police force.

“But that doesn’t mean that anyone—troops or spouses—ever expects it to hit home. You’re too young for widowhood to have been in your plans. It had to have jolted all sense of stability. And security.”

“I’m not sure it has that much to do with age. I doubt my mother was expecting to lose a husband either.”

“Probably not. But the fact is that both Jared and your dad died too damn young.”

“It was my fault.” Her words, barely more than a whisper, were easily heard in the still of the night. “Jared’s death.”

“And how, exactly, do you figure that?”

“I encouraged him to go to work for the force when he got back that last time from downrange. He seemed at loose ends, and since police forces are all based on a paramilitary system, I thought it might help make the transition to civilian life easier.”

“Did it?”

“I guess. Maybe. Hell, I don’t know.” Her tortured, confused expression broke a heart Sax had forgotten he possessed. “Maybe it would’ve been worse if he’d gone to work selling shoes, or insurance, or working construction, like he considered doing when he first got out. He seemed to like being a cop well enough. Especially the helping-people part. He was always good at connecting with civilians.”

“Well, then. There you go.”

“But his temper definitely became shorter after each tour, and although he denied it, I think he was having flashbacks. There’d be moments when he seemed to zone out. But he kept insisting nothing was wrong.”

“That’s not unusual.” Sax sure as hell hadn’t told anyone about his ghosts. Not even when Cole had given him the perfect opening. “He wanted you to see him as a manly man. The guy everyone in town knew you worshiped from day one. Not as some vet with a messed-up head.”

“But it didn’t change the way I felt. To me he’d always be the man I loved. And if his head was messed-up, well, we could fix it. The same way we did all our other problems.”

Like her pregnancy, Sax thought. Her father probably would’ve been supportive, even though he also would’ve undoubtedly wanted to kick Jared’s bony ass for messing with Ben’s baby girl. But Sax imagined Kara’s mother would have been less than thrilled about her valedictorian daughter getting knocked up and running off to get married to a guy on the verge of deployment.

“But he wouldn’t listen,” Sax guessed.

Jared Conway had been a great guy. But that same toughness that had probably made him a gung-ho Marine had also contributed to him being one of the most hardheaded individuals Sax had ever known. And given that Sax had spent more than a decade with SEALs, that was really saying something.

“No. We argued about it. A lot. Including the morning he left for work.” She rubbed her temples, looking so weary and oddly frail that Sax had to fight the urge to take her into his arms.

Damn if it wasn’t déjà vu all over again. They’d been here before.
Done
this—her crying, him trying to make her feel better—before. That night he’d managed to stop before things had gotten out of hand. Tonight, when every atom in his body was aching for her, he wasn’t sure he could.

“He called me from the station. Before going out on patrol. He apologized, said he’d been a damn fool to risk losing Trey and me—”

“You wouldn’t have left.” The two of them had always been so emotionally entwined it had been impossible to imagine one without the other.

“Never.” She paused. “Unless Trey became at risk.”

“Which Jared never would’ve allowed to happen. So I guess you made up.”

“As much as is possible in a quick, rushed phone call. He promised he’d call the VA and arrange for some help as soon as he finished the shift.”

Her voice became choked as she pushed those last words past the obvious lump in her throat. Damned if he didn’t have one of his own.

She didn’t say what they were both thinking: that Jared had never had a chance to make that call because some damn cretin had had anger-management problems of his own.

“If he hadn’t been thinking about our argument, if he weren’t probably going over what he was going to say to the vet counselor—”

“No.” About this Sax was perfectly clear. He took both her hands in his. Held them against his chest and looked her straight in the eye. “Jared was a professional. I’ve never been a cop, but like you said, there’re a lot of similarities between the police and the military. He knew how to compartmentalize. He also knew what even us noncops know: that domestic calls can be the most unpredictable and dangerous. So he would’ve stayed focused on the mission. It wasn’t his fault he died. And it definitely, absofuckinglutely wasn’t your fault.”

The tears she’d been holding back began to fall.
Shit
.

Even as he knew he was taking a huge risk, Sax drew her close. His hand, which had been able to hold a sniper rifle steady for hours, felt unreasonably huge and clumsy as he stroked her back.

“My head knows you’re probably right.” She snuffled against the front of his shirt. “But my heart . . .” She lifted her gaze to his. “Maybe it’s having grown up Catholic, but once the guilt gets inside—”

“It’s like a goddamn virus in your bloodstream,” Sax said. And didn’t he know firsthand about that?

“Exactly.” She thought about that for a moment. “Remember that song the class had voted the prom theme song? The Faith Hill one you danced with me?”

“The one from the movie
Pearl Harbor.
” At the time Sax had thought it was a damn stupid choice, because, hey, nothing said teenage love like reminiscing about one of America’s greatest tragedies.

“That’s the one. ‘There You’ll Be.’ I voted against it because I thought it was the wrong choice back then.” She unknowingly echoed his thoughts. “But now, those lines about ‘all the ways you were right there for me’ and ‘the strength you gave to me’ ring so true. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there for me after that home pregnancy test turned out to be positive.”

On the day of the prom. Her eyes had already been red rimmed when he’d picked her up at her parents’ house. He’d figured at the time she’d been weeping because Jared hadn’t been there to take her to the dance. Leaving her stuck with him.

“Which I guess turned out to have been a good thing,” he said. “You having Jared’s son.”

“Yes.” Despite her eyes being still wet, she smiled at that. “Trey’s a blessing.” She sighed, but this time the soft breath didn’t sound as sad. “This is getting to be a bad habit. Me crying all over you.”

“Hey, a couple tears aren’t exactly bawling your head off.”

“True. But we’ve both been ignoring the huge elephant in the room. Or on the porch.”

“What elephant would that be?” he asked, knowing all too well.

“That pity kiss we shared the night of the prom.”

“You needed comforting. When a guy’s eighteen, he pretty much goes on instinct. Since I had no real good advice to give you, I went with the first thing that popped into my mind.”

“I never told Jared.”

He’d been wondering about that. “Wasn’t all that much to tell.”

“I guess not.” Did she sound a little disappointed by his claim—which was totally a lie—that the kiss hadn’t rocked his teenage world? “But here’s my idea,” she continued. “Maybe it’s time I was there for you.”

“I’m doing okay.”

“I’m not questioning that or I wouldn’t have let Trey come home with you. But maybe we can act like each other’s support system. Like those sponsors they have in twelve-step programs . . .

“If I start feeling too guilty, I’ll call you. And you can talk me off the ledge. The way you did that night. And surprisingly, it’s a relief to have someone to talk with about Trey. About how and why he feels the way he does. If my mother ever knew all the details of what happened to me . . .”