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“Yeah.” Sean was glad to have someone else articulate what he’d also experienced during some of Red’s massages. “That.”
“Sunny was there, too. She got a massage before me. We talked a little bit and she’s going to let me see Wyatt. I know it’s weird, but I kind of miss him. Pete’s had him awhile and he says Wyatt’s sad. I guess once in a while Pete gets a dog with an indomitable will and they’re hard to train. He says Wyatt has a deep-rooted anxiety due to abandonment.”
“I don’t think it’s weird. You were out saving the dog when the bike got stolen. The dog and the motorcycle are forever wired together in your brain.” Sean tapped his temple with a forefinger.
“Look at you, getting all shrinkie on me.” Delaney switched out her wine for her water. “I guess that’s what makes you a good detective. You get into people’s heads.”
“I never thought about it like that.” Sean wasn’t sure if anyone had ever told him to his face that he was a good detective. “But thanks.” The wordhard-asswas used often.Relentlesshad been tossed around a lot, not just in his years on the police force, but his whole life, dating back to the day in middle school when someone had stolen his lunch money during PE and he’d launched an intensive manhunt, including clue collecting and interviews of his peers, and his sister had told him that if he was going to be relentless about something, it might as well be for the greater good. “Hey, did you really get your massage for free?”
“I did. I offered Red a huge tip but she refused that, too.”
“Red doesn’t do it for the money.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that. I really hope Tabitha goes in for hers.”
“How’s she doing? Were you guys close at Camp Leatherneck?”
“No. I only met her once. One single, horrible day. That’s one of the memories I was able to examine during the massage, in fact.”
Sean waited. If Delaney wanted to tell him more, she would. If not, so be it.
“Tabitha was the chaplain’s assistant.” Delaney switched back to her wine. “Navy.” Delaney searched his face, maybe trying to decide how closely Sean might know what she was talking about. “It was a long time ago. But I guess sometimes time doesn’t heal all things.” She stared into space, over Sean’s shoulder. There was a window there, but he doubted she was gazing off into the parking lot littered with stray teens who suffered from lack of parental supervision. “The day I met Tabitha, her convoy had hit an IED. The chaplain had been out doing a special service in the field.” Delaney shrugged. “Me and my guys went out to transport them back. See about repairing the vehicle.” She looked Sean dead in the eye. “The chaplain got shrapnel in the leg. Got banged around pretty good. Was knocked out, when I got there.”
The pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place for Sean. Chaplains, or religious program specialists, as they were called now, weren’t allowed to carry or use weapons. Chaplains had assistants, like Tabitha, who had many duties—one of which was to be the chaplain’s bodyguard.
“There was nothing she could’ve done about it,” Delaney said, as though she read Sean’s mind. “But I can see her taking that very hard. I know I would.”
“Did the chaplain die?”
“No.” Delaney’s brow wrinkled. “That’s what’s odd. I mean, I get how Tabitha might feel she failed in her job to protect the chaplain, even if there was nothing she could’ve done to stop it. But as far as I know, he lived. He was going to have some serious problems the rest of his life, but he was alive when he was sent home.”
Sean rolled the pieces of the puzzle around in his mind. “I wonder if he passed away recently.” The words slipped out. For a second, Sean forgot he wasn’t alone, sitting in his office or his cop van, slowly putting the clues together. “Tabitha’s anxiety is really, really fresh. There has to be a recent trigger. I bet you money the chaplain died recently.”
Delaney’s expression flickered and changed, her eyes widening. “He did take a pretty good hit to the head. The kind of thing that didn’t kill him right away but certainly could take its toll over the years.”
“Bet you money,” Sean repeated. “And now Tabitha is reliving that day all over again. With fresh guilt.”
“You like to make bets don’t you?” Delaney switched once again to her water and smiled over the rim of the glass.
“Bad habit. I avoid casinos.” Sean smiled back, glad to have the levity back in the room, then rose and collected the empty dishes and utensils. He was trying to decide how much that day might’ve shook up Delaney, but other than concern for Tabitha, she seemed unfazed.
Delaney followed him into the kitchen. “I can’t wait to see what you fix for dinner when I win the half-marathon.”
“The what?” Sean froze, plates in hand.
“That’s the next level, right?” Delaney leaned against the counter and got a devilish little smile on her face. “I beat you at a 5K, a 10K, and the next level up is a half.”
“You did not beat me at the 5K.” Sean shoved the plates onto the only empty spot left near his sink. “And I am not running a half-marathon anytime soon.”
Delaney laughed, opened his dishwasher and stuck her hand out for a plate. Looked like she was unwittingly on board with Sean’s new habit of keeping his living and workspaces tidy. Thank God the dishwasher was empty. He would have been embarrassed if it had a week’s worth of dirty plates, but luckily Sean rarely even bothered with the dishwasher. He just didn’t make enough of a mess eating oatmeal, ham and cheese sandwiches, and loaded salads from the salad bar in the grocery store.
“Now that I think about it, the only half-marathons I’ve run have been in training. I did run the Marine Corps Marathon a couple times,” Sean said. “Back when I was still an active duty marine. But that was ages ago.”
Delaney’s head popped up from her task of layering the dishes in the dishwasher. “I knew you were a marine.” She wore a look of triumph on her face. “Even though you never said so.”
“Before I became a cop,” Sean said. “I was in Fallujah with Santos. We were just kids back then. We thought we were so tough. Which is probably a good thing, because when I look back on it now, I’m amazed we didn’t lose our minds. Or at least shit our pants.”
“Oh.” Delaney’s voice got softer, like she’d had anahamoment. “That’s what this is.” Delaney ran her fingertip near her left eye, right where Sean had his scar.
