The Last Hour (35 page)

“How do you know?”
 

“Because Ray wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“Come now. You hardly know him. And people do things in wartime that you could never imagine. I’ve sat across the table in negotiations with mass murderers, and they were polite to a fault, always.”

“That’s the most disturbing thing you’ve ever said, Dad.”

“Perhaps, but it’s also true.”

“Dad. Ray didn’t do it. He
reported
it, okay? I’m not asking you to pass judgment on him, I’m asking you for your help. You’ve been in the government your whole life. Surely you know someone.”

He sighed. “Let me think on it, and I’ll call you.”

The relief that flooded me was overwhelming. I swallowed and asked, “When?”

“Tomorrow. I may need to make some calls.”

“Thank you,” I said. I struggled to find the right words, then said, “Tell Mom and the twins I said hello? I love you.”

“Love you too, Carrie.”

We hung up, and I set my phone down on the counter in the kitchen, and walked out to the balcony. Ray didn’t move when I slid the door open. He was still standing, tense, wound up. I slid my arms around his sides and he jerked in response.

“Shit,” he said. “Sorry. I was ... far away.”

That just made me tighten my arms around him a little more. I rested my chin on his shoulder and said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he said. “Mostly I want to forget it ever happened.”

I squeezed him, tightly, and he took my right hand in his. We stood in silence for a few minutes, and then he said, “Carrie….”

“Mmhmm?”

“Listen to me. I can’t say this more than once. But if I go to prison….”

I interrupted. “You’re not going to prison.”

“Just listen, please. If ... if I go to prison, you’re not to even think about doing anything noble. Waiting for me or whatever. I couldn’t take it if the war came back and messed up your life, too.”

I shivered, and a wave of sadness swept over me with the force of a tidal wave. “Stop it, Ray,” I said, and I hated it that my voice quavered as I spoke.

“I mean it. If I go away, you forget about me. Just walk, keep going, don’t ever turn and look back. It matters to me, Carrie. That you have a happy life, a good life. When I close my eyes and look in the future, I want to see a smile on your face.”

That made me sob. “Damn it, Ray, shut up. You aren’t going anywhere. You
are
my life.”

Abruptly, he let go of my hand and turned around facing me. He took my face in both of his hands and stared in my eyes. “Don’t say that. You mean everything to me, and I refuse to have you dragged down into the muck of the war. You’ve got a good life; you’re doing things that matter.”

I could feel the muscles in my chin and eyes as they bunched up, and tears were rolling down my cheeks and onto his hands. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Promise me,” he said, his voice urgent.

“I can’t promise that.”

“Jesus, Carrie,” he muttered. “I’ve never met anyone so stubborn in my life.”

I sniffed and pulled him closer. “That’s why you love me,” I said.

He shrugged, and a small grin appeared on his face for the first time that day. “Well, that and the great sex.”

I laughed through my tears and said, “I
do
love you.”

Still holding my face, he leaned forward and planted a kiss on lips, then said, “And I love you.”

And of course, that’s when my cell phone rang. I broke off the kiss, and she said, “Answer it, it might be your lawyer.” I grimaced, and pulled out the cell phone.

“Hello?”

“Sergeant Sherman?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Major Dick Elmore. I’m with the Staff Judge Advocate office, and I’ve been appointed as your counsel.”

I sighed. “What can I do for you, Major?”

“Are you available to meet this afternoon? We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

I gave him the address for the condo, and then we went in the apartment and Carrie called the concierge to have her send Elmore straight upstairs when he arrived. And then I fidgeted, nervously, until the phone rang again.

I didn’t recognize the number … it was a 202 area code, Washington, DC. I answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m trying to reach Sergeant Ray Sherman?” It was a youngish-sounding woman.

“Yeah, this is he.”

“Hi, I’m Sylvia Knight with Fox News, and we’d like to have you…”

I recoiled from the phone then disconnected it without a word. Carrie gave me a curious look. “Fox News,” I said.

She muttered something obscene. “I’m going to make some coffee,” she finally said.

A moment later, the phone rang again. This one was from area code 212, New York. But it wasn’t Dylan or Alex’s number. I stared at the phone and then glanced up at Carrie, who was looking at me through the pass-through between the living room and kitchen. We met each other’s eyes, and I silenced the phone.

Where the hell did they get my cell phone number?

The phone rang three more times in the next ten minutes. I ignored the calls and put the phone on silent. Pretty much everyone I actually wanted to talk to had Carrie’s number, if they really needed to get in touch with me.
 

It was a long forty-five minutes before we heard a knock on the door. Carrie and I both jumped to our feet. She gave me a soft smile, and we walked together to the door and I opened it.

Major Dick Elmore wasn’t at all what I expected.

Whether we admit it or not, first impressions make a big difference. And to a guy in the infantry, my new lawyer was impressive.

He was in his blue Class A uniform, and the first thing I saw was the combat patch of the Third Infantry Division. In and of itself, that didn’t mean much, because if you went to war with the division, you got the patch, regardless of whether you were infantry or a supply clerk. But he also wore a Ranger tab, and on his left breast the Combat Infantryman’s Badge with two stars, which meant that at some point prior to becoming a lawyer, he’d been to war as a grunt three separate times. Underneath that, jump wings, and then his medals, which included a Bronze Star, with the V device that signifies heroism in combat, and two purple hearts. His skin was the color of a strong cup of coffee, with hair going white, and had a nasty burn scar on the right side of his face. At his elbow, his left arm ended with a prosthetic arm that conceded nothing to appearance. It was all function, ending in a functional and ugly pair of hooks.

He extended his right arm. “Sergeant Sherman? Major Dick Elmore.”

I shook, and I’m embarrassed to admit how relieved I was to find an infantryman on the other end of that handshake instead of some paper pushing desk jockey.

“It’s ... very good to meet you, Major. This is my fiancée, Doctor Carrie Thompson.

She flashed a smile at me when I said the word fiancée. It’s true, we weren’t officially engaged, though we’d been talking about it more and more lately. But ... whatever. I said it.
 

“A pleasure, Doctor Thompson.”

“Call me Carrie, please. Please come in?”

We led the Major in. He had an ancient army rucksack thrown over his shoulder and dropped it to the floor. “First things first,” he said. “If you call me Sir or Major or anything like that, I’ll knock you in the head. It’s Dick, all right? I’m your lawyer, and we’re not going to stand on rank.”

“All right … Dick. I’m Ray.” It was really, really hard to call an officer by his first name.

“Can I get you some coffee?” Carrie asked.

“Please. Black.”

She smiled and walked into the kitchen. Major Elmore sat down on the couch, and I took a seat opposite him. His eyes fell to my laptop, which was still open to the New York Times.
 

“I’m going to suggest, Ray, that you close your laptop, and don’t read another newspaper or watch the news for the next six months. It’s only going to piss you off.”

I nodded. “You’re probably right.”

“Trust me, I’m right.”

Carrie came back in. She was carrying a small tray with three mugs of coffee. It was a small gesture, and I wanted nothing more right then than to sweep her in my arms and run away. Elmore sipped his coffee, closing his eyes and breathing deep through his nose.
 

“Oh, that’s from heaven, Carrie, thank you.”

She smiled.

“All right. I know you’re probably going insane right now. So first thing, I want to answer any questions you’ve got, and then I’ll brief you on what to expect in the coming weeks. And then I’m going to ask you questions. A lot of them. For the next few days you won’t be reporting to work at the hospital, because I want to know every last detail about your deployment to Afghanistan.”

Carrie and I both nodded.
 

“So ... what questions do you have right now before we start?”

Carrie caught me off guard by speaking first. She didn’t mince words. “I want to know if you’re going to represent Ray,
really
represent him, or should we be looking for a civilian lawyer.”

Elmore grinned. “Good one. Here’s how it works. I don’t know how familiar you are with the military justice system, but I fall in a completely different chain of command than the prosecutors and the General and all those folks. My job’s to give Ray the best possible chance of winning his case. And—” he paused, and his eyes swiveled to me as he said the next sentence, “I think you can see I’m not some snot-nosed kid straight out of law school.”

I liked that. “You used to be Combat Arms.”

He nodded. “Eighteen years. Gulf War, Somalia, Kosovo, Afghanistan and Iraq. I was a platoon sergeant in 3
rd
ID when I lost the arm, so I went to law school, then came back in. So what I’ll tell you is this, Ray and Carrie. I get that shit happens in war. I’ll do everything I can to keep you free. If you want to get a civilian lawyer, that’s fine, I’ll work with whoever you get. But what I want to see is you going free. This charge is complete bullshit.”

Before I could open my mouth, Carrie chimed in again. “Why is Ray being charged, anyway? He’s the one who reported it in the first place.”

Elmore shook his head. “Because two of his former buddies turned on him. They told the investigators that he pulled the trigger.”

As the words came out of his mouth, I stood up, involuntarily. Not breathing, it felt like I had a buzzing in my ears as my fists clenched.
 

“Who was it?” I whispered.

“Colton, of course, and Hicks.”

“Excuse me a moment,” I said. Fuck. I couldn’t even think. I walked away, back toward the bathroom, and Carrie called out, “Ray?” in a panicky voice. “I’ll be right back,” I said, my voice a lot sharper than I’d intended.
 

In the bathroom, I leaned against the counter, trying to catch my breath. My chest hurt, and it was a struggle to keep a lid on whatever the hell emotions were roiling through me. Hicks didn’t surprise me. Or maybe he did. I don’t know. We’d never liked each other, but I’d never even considered he might be a liar.
 

But Colton ... I knew he was trying to save himself. But it felt like a betrayal all over again. And at that thought, before I could think or act or anything rational at all, my fist lashed out, smashing into the mirror with a loud bang, and a long crack split the mirror from top to bottom.

I sagged against the sink.

“Ray?” Carrie called from outside the bathroom.
 

Ah, shit. I took a breath, then another one, trying to calm down, and then I opened the door.

Before she said a word, I said, “I’m sorry.”

She grabbed me by the shoulders and whispered, “Never apologize to me. I’m with you on this, Ray. I get it. All right?”

I swayed and nodded, not trusting myself to speak. So she took my hand, and we walked back into the living room.

Somehow Elmore didn’t look surprised at all.
 

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Might as well get it out of your system now,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m not one to lose control.”

“Well, these are exceptional circumstances. And ... I’m sorry I had to tell you that. You were close to them?”

I shook my head. “Never really knew Hicks that well. But Colton was ... until he went nuts, he was kind of like a father. You know how much a platoon sergeant means. And Colton was a good one.”

Elmore grimaced. “All right, well, we got that out of the way. I want to give you an idea of what to expect in the next few weeks. Your record’s completely clean ... you ever been tangled up in any legal stuff before?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. All I know is what I’ve seen on TV.”

“Forget whatever you know from there. The military justice system doesn’t work like that.”

“Okay,” I said.

“So, basically here’s what happens. A complaint comes in, or a commander becomes aware of a possible crime through some other means. In this case, it was the letter and thumb drive you sent. Once the commander becomes aware of it, it’s his or her responsibility as an officer to decide what to do. Conduct an investigation. Ignore it. Ask CID to investigate. It’s entirely up to the commander whose responsibility it falls under. In this case, your letter came in to the Inspector General’s office. IG turned it over to the Pentagon, who gave it to Major General Buelles. He’s the Commander of the Military District of Washington. Buelles asked CID to conduct the initial investigation. We clear so far?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“So CID conducts the investigation, and they asked for help from FBI, because one of the potential perps is a civilian now.”

I ran my old squad through my head and couldn’t think of anyone who was completely out of the military. So I said, “Who?”

“Guy named Dylan Paris. According to the investigation, you know him pretty well.”

I nodded. “How was he a suspect? He got blown up more than a month before all this stuff went down.”

“General Buelles didn’t know that when the investigation started. Paris is clear, though if he’s a good friend, having him come down and testify on your behalf may not be out of line.”