depredations,
but he’d heard this one a few times already. “My knowledge is limited
to bones, gentleman. I’ll leave World War Two with you. I’ll keep an eye
out for whales, though. These days, they might come knocking on my
front door.”
Laughter followed him out. They’d already hit him with
every form of joke about sea creatures on his doorstep. Apparently the
last hurricane had washed away his beach house’s front yard. Jared and
Cleo spent a lot of time pondering how to save it, but no solution had
occurred as yet. It would be a shame to lose that piece of the past, but
he didn’t know how to save houses either.
If he thought about it, his occupation was singularly
useless. Once people were dead, did it really matter how they died?
Justice wouldn’t miraculously return them to life. He should have been
something more constructive, like a doctor. Brad would have been saving
thousands of lives by now, discovering a cure for AIDS or the like.
But Brad was dead, and it was TJ’s fault.
He knew better than to go down that crooked path again,
only the warm summer night with ocean breezes rippling through the
leaves raised specters of the past. Walking under old oaks and catching
the sweet perfume of a late magnolia blossom, he could almost imagine
ghosts drifting from some of these old mansions.
Passing the gardenia bush of the B&B, he heard
laughter and music pouring from the lighted front rooms and wide porch,
and he shoved his hands into his pockets and picked up speed. Patsy was
having a party tonight. No, not Patsy, but Mara. She was definitely a
Mara these days.
He’d stopped thinking of her as Brad’s little sister a
long time ago, but she was the reason he was wandering the melancholy
alleys of his mind now.
He’d started college as a jock with no profession but
basketball in mind. Sports had provided an acceptable outlet for the
bubbling cauldron of testosterone and untapped emotion he’d been back
then. His best friend had dedicated his life to becoming a doctor. Brad
had been Keeper of the Flame, the shining light of genius who would
rescue the once-proud Simonettis from obscurity and save the world.
Brad’s death had destroyed the Simonettis as completely as
it had destroyed the car Brad had been driving. TJ’s car. He might as
well have handed Brad a loaded gun when he’d handed him the keys. If
he’d been paying attention... but he hadn’t.
TJ walked down to the waterfront and watched the yachts
and fishing boats bobbing in the water. Some days, he’d simply like to
hop aboard one and sail away.
Other days, his damned ingrained sense of responsibility demanded he get off his ass and do what had to be done.
Except doing what had to be done meant betraying still
another friend, destroying him as finally as Brad had destroyed himself,
and quite possibly taking down the colonel’s family in the same way
Brad’s death had destroyed the Simonettis.
He’d lost one good friend tragically. He wouldn’t give up
on this one yet. He would finish reading through the notebooks, and talk
with the colonel. There could have been national security reasons
involved that he didn’t understand. Martin was the army insider. McCloud
Enterprises just had government contracts. TJ didn’t know anything
about how the war crime cases were handled after he turned over the
evidence. He simply appeared at the trials when called upon.
He hadn’t been called upon in the Balkan trials as often
as he’d expected. Thousands of people had been murdered in that war,
executed, women and children included. Their lives demanded justice.
TJ turned his back on the harbor and headed for his car.
He had to walk past the B&B again to get there. The
thick night air carried Mara’s laughter clearly, and he couldn’t resist
glancing toward the old converted mansion.
A tall, slender figure in flowing white adorned the wide
veranda, accompanied by a pair of business-suited
but he’d heard this one a few times already. “My knowledge is limited
to bones, gentleman. I’ll leave World War Two with you. I’ll keep an eye
out for whales, though. These days, they might come knocking on my
front door.”
Laughter followed him out. They’d already hit him with
every form of joke about sea creatures on his doorstep. Apparently the
last hurricane had washed away his beach house’s front yard. Jared and
Cleo spent a lot of time pondering how to save it, but no solution had
occurred as yet. It would be a shame to lose that piece of the past, but
he didn’t know how to save houses either.
If he thought about it, his occupation was singularly
useless. Once people were dead, did it really matter how they died?
Justice wouldn’t miraculously return them to life. He should have been
something more constructive, like a doctor. Brad would have been saving
thousands of lives by now, discovering a cure for AIDS or the like.
But Brad was dead, and it was TJ’s fault.
He knew better than to go down that crooked path again,
only the warm summer night with ocean breezes rippling through the
leaves raised specters of the past. Walking under old oaks and catching
the sweet perfume of a late magnolia blossom, he could almost imagine
ghosts drifting from some of these old mansions.
Passing the gardenia bush of the B&B, he heard
laughter and music pouring from the lighted front rooms and wide porch,
and he shoved his hands into his pockets and picked up speed. Patsy was
having a party tonight. No, not Patsy, but Mara. She was definitely a
Mara these days.
He’d stopped thinking of her as Brad’s little sister a
long time ago, but she was the reason he was wandering the melancholy
alleys of his mind now.
He’d started college as a jock with no profession but
basketball in mind. Sports had provided an acceptable outlet for the
bubbling cauldron of testosterone and untapped emotion he’d been back
then. His best friend had dedicated his life to becoming a doctor. Brad
had been Keeper of the Flame, the shining light of genius who would
rescue the once-proud Simonettis from obscurity and save the world.
Brad’s death had destroyed the Simonettis as completely as
it had destroyed the car Brad had been driving. TJ’s car. He might as
well have handed Brad a loaded gun when he’d handed him the keys. If
he’d been paying attention... but he hadn’t.
TJ walked down to the waterfront and watched the yachts
and fishing boats bobbing in the water. Some days, he’d simply like to
hop aboard one and sail away.
Other days, his damned ingrained sense of responsibility demanded he get off his ass and do what had to be done.
Except doing what had to be done meant betraying still
another friend, destroying him as finally as Brad had destroyed himself,
and quite possibly taking down the colonel’s family in the same way
Brad’s death had destroyed the Simonettis.
He’d lost one good friend tragically. He wouldn’t give up
on this one yet. He would finish reading through the notebooks, and talk
with the colonel. There could have been national security reasons
involved that he didn’t understand. Martin was the army insider. McCloud
Enterprises just had government contracts. TJ didn’t know anything
about how the war crime cases were handled after he turned over the
evidence. He simply appeared at the trials when called upon.
He hadn’t been called upon in the Balkan trials as often
as he’d expected. Thousands of people had been murdered in that war,
executed, women and children included. Their lives demanded justice.
TJ turned his back on the harbor and headed for his car.
He had to walk past the B&B again to get there. The
thick night air carried Mara’s laughter clearly, and he couldn’t resist
glancing toward the old converted mansion.
A tall, slender figure in flowing white adorned the wide
veranda, accompanied by a pair of business-suited
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