Two Days Of A Dream (26 page)

"Then she's a Miss. Ms. is only used when the marital status is unknown. When a woman uses Ms., she either wants to hide that she's married or she's confused. Which is it, Captain?"

Duran dropped his arms and stepped back. "I'm an officer and a gentleman and Kelly wasn't like that." How dare she insinuate. He had to take deep breaths that he puffed out to keep from yelling at this obnoxious superior officer.

LaMans appeared to think a moment, gnawing her lower lip. "Okay, I believe you. Now show me where the two of you were when she supposedly disappeared."

Duran grunted at the word “supposedly” and Talbit grasped his arm. Duran had forgotten his friend was even there and wondered why Talbit hadn't gotten him away from the investigator like he said he would. But Duran knew Talbit wouldn't act unless he gave him the okay. Duran, not far from giving that okay, breathed in deeply. He nodded once and Talbit let go. Stepping up to LaMans, Duran took her in his arms once again and pulled her to the ground like he had done to Kelly. She wanted to know so he showed her. Other than a quiet gasp, she made no other sound. Too bad. For some morbid reason, a scream from his tormentor would have been more satisfying.

Duran crawled half on LaMans and placed his hand under her back where Kelly had been shot. He put his other hand on her face. It felt all wrong. They stared into each other’s eyes for a bloated moment.

Clearing his throat Talbit knelt and leaned in close. "I was kneeling next to them with a bandage in my hand. We were about to turn her over when it happened."

That had been the last time he had seen Kelly. Her pale skin shone like the moon, and he had tried to hold her tighter as she evaporated from his arms.

"Captain?" LaMans gently slapped Duran's face. "Captain, you can let me up now."

Duran released and rolled away, knocking into the shack. Standing, he froze, staring at the door of the dragon. "If I hadn't dragged you away, Millam might have lived." Duran’s gut twisted.

Talbit clamped onto Duran's shoulder. "No, there was nothing we could have done. From our preliminary autopsy, it looked like he was dead by the time he hit the floor. Who told you about Millam?"

"Broan."

"There was nothing we could do for him. Even a small hammer, when applied to the head hard enough, can do a lot of damage."

LaMans took Talbit into Duran's office first. Talbit wasn't in there nearly as long as the doctor would have preferred. Then she took Coleman, then Ritchey, then Gering. Each one came out and assured Duran they told the truth but didn't think the lieutenant colonel believed them.

Surprisingly, Larsen was in the longest. When he came out, he was smiling and gave Duran a thumbs up. He had to hurry off to get a report done by evening chow.

Duran wasted all day waiting for her to get around to him, even missing evening chow. By the time she called him in, more than the sun had made him hot under the collar. He headed for the interview chair but before he could sit, she spoke.

"Pack your things, Captain." She piled her papers into a briefcase. "We have a plane to catch." She left before he could get one question past the roadblock in his brain.

He looked around the small space he had shared with two junior officers. The place now seemed foreign and there didn't appear to be anything he wanted to take with him. He kicked the interrogation chair across the tent and stormed out of his office.

Okay, if she wants me out of here because I'm crazy, so be it!
He would be glad not to have to look at all the places that reminded him of that awful event, of Kelly.

He fumed all the way back to his sleeping tent, almost passing it, so deep in agitated anger. He wrenched his locker out, toppling his cot and spilling the covers. Duran certainly wouldn't miss that torture rack they called a bed or the hot nights with sweat trickling down his body. He tossed everything into the locker, not caring if it was up to military standards.

Larsen retrieved a pair of sandals while his captain seethed and tracked back and forth in the small space. Duran wanted to scream out his boiling anger but not in front of Larsen. The sergeant didn't deserve the explosion, the anger that Duran didn't fully understand, himself. Maybe he was crazy and needed to be taken away for the safety of everyone.

Everything was stowed in the locker, far neater than Duran had intended thanks to Larsen, and the click of the latches punched his stomach. He was really leaving his men in this inhospitable place and he didn’t like it.

"Hey Taylor! Give me a hand with this!" Larsen yelled out the tent.

As Taylor rushed in and took an end, Duran looked past him. Outside the tent was a crowd of people—his people, his men.

Larsen and Taylor carried Duran's locker out and two more guys lent a hand even though it wasn't that heavy. Duran picked up his briefcase and followed.

"Graves was under a truck but said he'd be here as soon as he got the grease off his hands," another reported. "He told us we were to keep the plane on the ground until he got there, even if we had to with our bare hands."

If it came to that, Duran knew his men would find a way to get it done.

"They didn't give us enough time to plan a prank!" someone yelled from the back, probably Howardson. The corporal had a way with laser sights and a knack for pranks.

"That's a good thing!" Duran hollered back.

By the time they reached the plane, his men had turned his solemn march into a parade.

LaMans was in the hatchway with the engines running. A smile lightened her features, but she let it drop when Duran glared up at her.

He said his goodbyes, shaking hands with everyone he could reach. Stover made it and promised to take good care of his men. Graves ambled up with only his hands devoid of grease, causing Duran to be grateful Graves wasn't a hugger. Even Broan showed up and mumbled something about a good captain. Duran hoped the colonel was referring to him. Duran's eyes felt swollen but he had won the wrestling match - with the tears that were on the verge of pinning him - before he climbed the airplain’s ladder.

Duran took a moment to adjust to the dark of the cargo hold. He hoped LaMans couldn't see him as he wiped a few stray drops from his cheeks. When he could see, he started for the near side of the plane but LaMans whistled from across the hold. She motioned for him to sit next to her. He went to her because she was the superior officer. He would have preferred to have sat across the cargo bay from his irritant.

The flight crew had the plane readied, and the cockpit crew had finished pre-flight. Duran felt the plane move before he had his seat belt and harness fastened.

He couldn't wait any longer. "What now, Colonel?" he yelled over the engines.

Her eyes sparkled. "Now we go in search of a nightgown!"

Chapter Thirty-seven

It wasn't Cap, so he'd better have a darn good reason for waking her. Should she throw something first and ask questions later? Why wouldn’t he leave her alone so she could sleep and dream of Cap?

There were two men in her room.
Where am I, Grand Central Station?

"It'll be a few more minutes. The effects need time to wear off. I told you she wasn't quite ready."

The second man clicked his tongue. "Okay." The second man didn't sound happy that he had to wait for Kelly.

Tough
. She wouldn’t rush for anyone, ever again. At least he didn't sound as impatient as Broan. Ah, Colonel Broan, Talbit, Coleman, Larsen, and most of all, Cap. A sob broke from her throat and tears flooded her ears.

"Cap." She croaked.
Ahhhh, I will never see him again, never have a chance, never have love.
She wanted more morphine, anything not to think about the agony in her heart.

Kelly tried her eyes again and found she could open them part way, but the anguish swimming in them blurred everything. Someone placed a tissue in her hand and she wiped her eyes. Useless effort, like taking a sponge to the Platte River.

"Detective Hendricks, with the Lincoln Police." He moved closer, too close. "I need to ask you some questions." He’d had onions with his last meal.