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He nodded to that. “I’ll think on it. See what I remember. ”
“Good-bye, Mr. Winston. ”
“And you’ll remember to get that phone call for me?” His voice was filled with hope. “Just for a minute. Just so I can hear his voice one more time. ”
She was going to cry. Oh God, don’t let her cry here, in front of this proud old man.
“Department of Homeland Security will be contacting you tomorrow, Mr. Winston. I promise. ”
He nodded again, reached for his coffee cup, and brought it to his shaking lips. She wanted to howl at the unfairness of it, and she couldn’t. All she could do was walk out the door and move to the sheriff’s car.
“I’m going to stick around and make sure Clay gets dinner. ” Natches caught her arm and pulled her to a stop. “I’ll see you tonight. ”
She shook her head. “Not tonight. ”
“Like hell. Tonight, Chay, and that’s final. I didn’t know Miss Willa wasn’t coming over here every evening to take care of Clay’s dinner, and I have to fix that now. But you can bet on the fact you will be seeing me this evening. ”
She pulled away from him and followed Zeke to his car, getting in and slamming the door behind her as she continued to fight her tears. She would rather interrogate a roomful of terrorists than ever have to face that old man with so much as one more question regarding his son.
She was losing it. There was a time when she could have questioned him and pushed back her sympathy, her compassion. It was what she had been trained to do. She was an interrogation specialist. She knew how to do her job without worrying about the consequences.
At least, she used to know how.
“One more to go,” Zeke said as he got in the car and looked over at her. “I believe it’s the widowed mother of another of those boys. ”
She nodded. A man who had paid his mother’s bills, bought her food, and took care of her, and now his mother was suffering.
Her fingers curled into a fist, and fury spiked hard and hot inside her.
“No. We’re finished for the day. ”
Zeke paused as he slid the car into gear. “It won’t be any easier tomorrow, Agent Dane. Trust me, I can tell you that one for a fact. ”
She stared out the window, ignoring her own reflection, afraid of what she might see. She knew tomorrow wouldn’t be any easier.
“I’ve interrogated dozens of terrorists. I’ve interrogated suspects’ families. I’ve been a bitch and remembered what I was fighting for, for years now. ” She was twenty-eight years old. She had come into Army Intelligence right after boot camp and worked her way up. She knew what she was doing, she knew how to do it, and she couldn’t stand the thought of one more parent forced to face the choices his child had made.
“Yeah, I hear you’re real good at your job,” he murmured.
“Am I?” she whispered, refusing to look at him as he pulled out of the driveway.
The yard around the Winston house was overgrown. Clayton Winston’s only son used to keep it mowed and trimmed. The trees needed trimming, and there was no one to do that now.
“You know, you didn’t make the choices those boys made any more than Clay did,” Zeke told her as they headed away from the house. “It’s our job to stop them, your job to make sure we stop all of them. It might hurt like hell; it might cut us up until nothing helps but a shot of whiskey and a tear or two. But we do what we have to do. ”
“For as long as we can stand to do it,” she said softly. “Take me back to my car, Sheriff. I told you; I’m finished for the day. ”
She returned to her hotel and ordered a bottle of wine. She showered and changed into a robe and curled up on the couch, where she put in a call to Cranston. Two hours later, suffering the effects of a furious, heated argument over the phone call she had promised Clayton Winston, she’d arranged it. At noon the next day, he would have ten minutes with his son.
The bastard. Christopher didn’t deserve to hear his father’s voice. Didn’t deserve to know that the man who had lost a brother and countless friends in the service of his country still loved him.
It would bring Christopher Winston more comfort than it would bring his father, but even a small amount of comfort was reason enough.
And what of the widow? she asked herself. What was she going to promise her? What about the wife and two small children of another man they had taken? A man with a promising career, who had laid it all on the line to betray his country.
She pushed her fingers through her hair and fought the scream welling in her throat. What about those children who had lost their daddy and didn’t understand why? The wife whose eyes were haunted in the surveillance pictures, who hid in her home and tried to ignore the gossip swirling in this small town?
She rose to her feet and paced to the window. She stared out at the darkness falling over the mountains, the lights of the city around her, and she could feel the tears inside her.
