Burnt River (13 page)

“Are we finished now?” she said, holding it in his face. “Because we could spend the whole day discussing what an idiot I was just then. How I’d had a temporary lapse in judgment as I went about my otherwise flawless day. But you of course never make any mistakes, do you? I can tell you’re a perfect citizen just by looking at the expired plates on your car. Maybe we should discuss those.”

The man started to roll up his window, but Macy stopped him.

“Maybe the next time our paths cross I’ll be the one speeding in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone.” She raised her voice. “You’ll know it’s me because I won’t bother to stop.”

She felt nauseous. She’d woken up at three in the morning with all the lights in her room on. After taking some more ibuprofen she’d stumbled back to bed and slept through her alarm. When she finally surfaced there were several missed calls from Ray, but no messages. She’d read through the texts they’d exchanged the night before, and her mood soured further. Even in her advanced stages of denial she could see it wasn’t a healthy situation. She made yet another solemn vow to stop drinking, give up on Ray, and get a grip. She couldn’t believe how she’d behaved the night before. She’d been so embarrassed she’d not checked in with Aiden before heading to Collier. She tried to sound natural when she picked up the phone and dialed his number, but she wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Hey, Aiden.”

He seemed to be in a rush. There were sirens in the background. “Hey to you too. Thought I’d have heard from you by now.”

“I had a late start so I thought I’d better head straight to Collier.”

“Just as well. I’ve got my hands full. The wind shifted overnight and that fire south of town tried to jump Route 93. Quite a few early-morning evacuations.”

“No casualties, I hope.”

“Fingers crossed. Nothing reported so far.”

Macy relaxed. “How’s your head?”

“Tender. Yours?”

“Same.” She paused, then sputtered, “About last night. We’re okay, right?”

He laughed. “I’m a little frustrated but I’ll get over it.”

“Always a bridesmaid but never a bride.”

“Something like that.”

A silence followed.

“So, I’ll check in with you once I’ve spoken to John’s therapist.”

“I might be out of range for a while. I’m heading south on 93 now.”

“Okay. Talk later then.”

In her late forties, the therapist, Janet Flute, had pale eyes, bloodless lips, and a boy’s haircut. Small in stature and stripped of ornamentation, she was someone who’d blend into any background. Her expression varied little and she was so considered in her answers that in the intervening silences Macy found herself spouting out all sorts of unsolicited information. Within the first few minutes, she admitted to being hungover, stressed out, and disappointed with the state of her love life. Janet blinked, which Macy suspected was her way of expressing shock.

“Christ,” said Macy, gathering herself. “That wasn’t very professional.”

Janet only tilted her head as if she was inviting Macy to continue.

“I guess you get that a lot. People confessing.”

She almost smiled. “That’s generally the idea with therapy, although some people respond better than others. Do you have a therapist?” She reached for a business card and passed it to Macy. “Perhaps.”

Macy stared at the card. Unlike the one in John Dalton’s wallet, this one was crisp and white. She pocketed it and focused on the task at hand.

“I’d like to thank you for speaking to me today. I can only assure you that anything you tell me will be kept in strict confidence.”

“I want to help. John Dalton was a very decent young man. It’s a terrible loss for the community. I think he would have gone far in life if given the chance.”

“You said on the phone that you were willing to discuss his visits.”

She opened a thin file. “John only came to see me half a dozen times, so what I have here is a fairly limited impression of him. It may not even be accurate. It sometimes takes awhile to get to the core of a person’s issues. Perhaps you could tell me what you’re looking for.”

“Was he traumatized by his time in Afghanistan? Was he exhibiting behavior that could have put him in harm’s way?”

“Recently there has been a lot of bad press about war veterans. All the headlines seem to be about those that are having problems, but very little has been written about the vast majority who’ve adjusted well to civilian life.”

“I suppose in my line of work I only come across the folks that are struggling, so I may have developed some misconceptions. Domestic violence, drug abuse, and suicide seem to top the list of the problems we’re seeing. I need to know if John was someone we should have been worried about.”

Instead of answering right away, Janet glanced down at her notes. “I’m sorry, I just want to make sure I get this right. I don’t want to confuse matters.”

Macy sat back in her chair and fought the urge to check her phone. “Please take your time.”

“In my opinion, John Dalton was adapting to civilian life well. Like many young men and women who go into service with a strong sense of patriotic duty and a steadfast faith in the military structure, he was well equipped to endure the hardships he faced in Afghanistan. He chose to enlist. He wasn’t forced by economic reasons or peer pressure. It was John’s way of striking out on his own and proving himself. Considering how much action he saw, I’d say he was lucky to come away unscathed both emotionally and physically. He wasn’t displaying any signs of self-destructive behavior or post-traumatic stress. In fact you could say that his coming here of his own volition to sort out issues of, shall we say, a more existential nature, was a sign that he was in a rather sound state of mind.”

“That contradicts what someone close to him was saying about his behavior.”

“I can only go by what’s in front of me.”

“You should know that I interviewed Dylan Reed. He told me that he recommended that John come see you.”

“Did he tell you why?”

Macy nodded. “According to Dylan, John was finding his relationship with his mother increasingly stressful. Amongst other things, Annie told him that Jeremy wasn’t his real father.”

“As you may know, John’s mother, Annie, has been suffering from early onset dementia for some time now.”

Macy waited.

“She’s prone to outbursts, flights of fantasy. It’s difficult to tell whether she’s telling the truth or only saying things that she believes to be true. John had difficulty believing what his mother told him, but as he looked back on the problems his parents have had over the years, things started to make sense. But John loved Jeremy as a father. He felt disloyal because he was becoming increasingly interested with finding out the truth as to who his real father might be. Add to this the recent changes in his life—leaving the military, the return home, and the breakup of a long-term relationship—he was feeling a little lost. He came to me because he wanted someone to speak to in confidence.”

“I take it Annie gave no indication as to who his real father was.”

“If, indeed, Jeremy isn’t his real father in the first place. Annie isn’t well. A difficult marriage doesn’t necessarily mean it was an unfaithful one.”

“And these revelations were recent?”

“Yes, since he was discharged from the army in December.”

“It could explain why he has been distant with his sister.”

“He’d found out something that could be devastating for her to know. It would make sense.”

“You met with John last week?”

“Yes.”

“How did you leave it? Was he in a good state of mind?”

“He’d made his peace. Jeremy may not have been related to him by blood, but he’d been there for John his entire life. In John’s eyes, Jeremy was his real father.”

“So he gave up trying to find out who his mother was referring to?”

“He didn’t say as much, but I was under the impression that he’d figured out who it was some time ago. He’d just been unwilling to let go and move on.”

“He didn’t confide in you?”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t help you there. I will say that the last time he was here he seemed adamant about closing this chapter in his life. He was a very determined young man; I have no doubt he would have succeeded.”

Macy closed her eyes for a second. “Did John ever speak about his relationships outside his family?”

“I don’t think I’m revealing much that isn’t in the public domain by saying that he was at a crossroads romantically. I think the revelations about his parents really shook him up. Made him question the validity of long-term commitment. I saw his relationship with Lana as an act of rebellion, but also a way of reaching beyond the borders of his upbringing. Intellectually, she challenged him. It was a refreshing change.”

“And what about his friends? Dylan, for instance.”

“Dylan is my patient so I’m not at liberty to speak about him directly. I will say that John admired him greatly. Loved him like a brother.”

“What about Tyler Locke?”

“Tyler was both John’s close friend and his platoon sergeant. There was a great deal of mutual respect. He really looked up to Tyler, but he also worried about him.”

“Did he say why?”

“He didn’t go into detail. I imagine they depended on each other a great deal during their deployments. It would make sense for that interdependence to carry over into civilian life. Plus, Tyler was still in harm’s way and John was no longer there to protect him.”

Macy started to gather her things. “Do you know if John spoke to his sister about what Annie told him?”

“As far as I know she wasn’t told.” She paused. “I hope something you learned today was helpful. The news of John’s murder has been quite a shock.”

“As I said, we’ve had some conflicting information about John’s state of mind. Given the source, it has to be taken seriously, so I’ll need to follow that line of enquiry further. At this point I have no idea whether the question of John’s parentage played a factor in his death, but it may yet come up.”

“You will keep me posted?”

“Absolutely. And again I apologize for earlier. Sometimes my mouth runs ahead of my head.”

“I get the impression you’re very stressed.”

“I’m a single parent, I work long hours, and the governor is a close friend of Jeremy Dalton. The pressure to get this right is enormous.”

“You just have to let go of the stuff you can’t control. Who takes care of your son when you can’t be there for him? Do you feel he’s in good hands?”

“Yes, that’s all fine. He’s well looked after.”

“And your love life?”

“I wasn’t joking. It’s a disaster.”

“What about the drinking? Working in law enforcement is very stressful. You wouldn’t be the first one to drink one too many glasses of wine.”

Macy rubbed her eyes. “More like whiskey.”

“I think you should make a real effort to cut back. It will just exacerbate any problems you’re having, both at work and in your personal life.”

Macy almost said that the two were the same thing, but kept her thoughts to herself. She stood up and held out her hand. “You’re right, of course. I’ll try.”

Janet smiled for the first time. “Good to hear.”

*   *   *

Macy sat in Aiden’s office, going through her notes. It made no difference that the door was closed. Every sound, no matter how slight, set off a painful vibration in her skull. What she wanted more than anything was to go home to Helena and sleep for three days straight. She checked the time. She’d been assured that John Dalton’s commanding officer would be available to take her call. She’d already reviewed John’s service record and there was nothing to indicate that he had had any sort of breakdown. She took a sip of water and waited to be put through. Lieutenant Colonel Paul McDonald’s battalion was stationed at Bagram Air Base in eastern Afghanistan. She’d been expecting him to be full of bravado and bark down the phone like a character from a war movie. He was nothing of the sort. Once he heard the news about John it took him a long while to regain his composure. Macy was not prepared to hear a thrice-decorated soldier cry on the other end of the line.

She tapped her notebook with her pen. “Perhaps I should call back later. This has been a big shock for everyone involved.”

“No, no. That won’t be necessary. Just give me a sec.”

Macy flipped through John’s service record. John had served under Paul McDonald for three years. She’d wait.

He spoke softly. “In a way, everyone out here is like family, but John stood out. He was like a son.”

“Considering where you spend most of your time, it must be difficult to stay emotionally detached.”

“I breathe a sigh of relief whenever they head home unharmed. Can you tell me what happened? Was it an accident?”

“Early yesterday morning John suffered a single gunshot wound to his head and two to his back. Death was instantaneous.”

“A robbery.”

“Nothing was taken.”

“Christ.”

“I’m interviewing everyone who was close to John. I’m not only trying to piece together his movements, I’m also trying to understand his state of mind. I’ve had some conflicting information in that regard, and I was hoping you could set me straight. I’ve read his service record, and there’s nothing to indicate he was having any difficulties during his time in Afghanistan.”

“That’s because he wasn’t.”

“There were never any incidents when he was fearful of going out on patrol, any indications that he had some sort of breakdown?”

“I have an entire battalion under my command. Nearly eight hundred soldiers. I can do some checking but I’m telling you right now that John Dalton was of sound mind when he left here. How he reacted to being back home is another matter. Not everyone adjusts to civilian life. They live under constant strain here. We train them to be on guard to any threat, no matter how slight. I’m not going to apologize. It’s what keeps them alive. But what’s right for a war zone doesn’t always set well back home. I’ve seen some cases where these kids just snap. I don’t blame them. What they’re facing over here isn’t natural. Thankfully, the vast majority of our soldiers make the adjustment without difficulty.”