But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything.

  He didn’t even look at her.

  That’s when all the hope, all the manufactured certainty that this was just a bad mistake, one of the army’s major screw ups, faded to black.

  Only one thing was clear now. Their lives had changed forever.

  A hundred questions, a hundred doubts crashed around inside Rachael’s head, sending shockwaves to her heart. She couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

  “Mac?”

  After several long, heavy seconds, he finally looked up. Met her eyes. And her heart broke all over again.

  Oh, my God. What had they done to him?

  This wasn’t the man she knew. This wasn’t her husband. Wasn’t the man who had left eight months ago with the light of love and life in his eyes. That man had been strong and self-assured and proud. This man … this man was broken.

  Fatigue painted dark bruises beneath his eyes. His face was drawn and haggard, his cheeks, hollow. He was so pale, her heart ached for him. He’d lost weight. The dark prison uniform shirt hung on his broad shoulders.

  Even worse. He’d lost the spark that made him Samuel (Mac) James McKenzie.

  “Oh, Mac.” Tears stung and her voice broke as she put into words what she’d been thinking. “What have they done to you?”

  An eternity passed as she watched him battle to keep it together. Barely aware of reaching for the metal chair, she drew it away from the table and sank down across from him. Moved as near as she could possibly get to him. It took everything she had to stay strong. She’d never seen him this way. He looked very close to unraveling so for his sake as much as hers, she couldn’t fall apart.

  This wasn’t Mac. Her Mac was strong, and protective ... he’d be asking if she was all right. If Addie was okay. No, this wasn’t Mac. And she wanted him back. Needed him back no matter what had happened.

  She ached to touch him. More than anything in this world she wanted to hold on to him, bury her face in his neck, smell that amazing masculine scent that was natural to him and cling as he told her not to worry.

  War Crime? Murder?

  “I love you,” she whispered and lost the battle. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’ve missed you.” They were words she’d wanted to say for months, face to face. Words she couldn’t have stopped if her life depended on it. Words she knew he needed to hear.

  “Baby … Mac. Please. Whatever happened, we’re going to get through it. Together. But you need to talk to me.”

  He closed his eyes, but not before she saw them mist over. His lowered his head, shook it slowly. He was embarrassed, beaten and defeated.

  “We’ll sort this out,” she rushed on. “They’ve made a mistake. I know you didn’t do what they say you did. What they think you did.”

  He slumped back in the chair. “You don’t understand, Rach.”

  She barely recognized his voice. The words came out slowly. Harsh, rusty, and hoarse. Not only did he not look like Mac, he didn’t sound like him either.

  “Then help me. Help me understand. Talk to me.”

  She reached across the table before she could stop herself. He immediately wrapped his hands around hers, his calloused fingers clutching hers like a lifeline.

  “Ma’am,” the guard said quietly, almost apologetically.

  She jerked her head around toward him. “This is my husband. I haven’t seen him in eight months. He shouldn’t even be here. Please.”

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am. This is your one warning. I don’t want to have to stop the visit.”

  She turned back to Mac. He squeezed one last time then slowly let go. But that short, sweet contact had brought him back to her. She could feel it. He held her gaze this time. Long enough to see that his heart was as filled with despair as hers.

  She clasped her hands together under the table. And told him one more time. “I love you. I know you’re innocent. But you need to talk to me.”

  He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for putting you through this.”

  “No. Don’t even think it. You aren’t putting me through anything. The Army is.”

  And the press. There was no chance she would tell him about how they were hounding her and add to his agony. He’d blame himself for that as well.

  He searched her eyes and must have seen the reflection of his own hopelessness. “I can’t stand it when you cry, Rach. And you’ve been crying. A lot. I can see that.”

  “I’ve been scared. Frustrated! And I’ve been missing you. But you’re here now. We’re going to get you home. We’ll straighten this out.”

  “How are you?” His worry and the fact that he’d totally deflected her words, pierced straight to her heart.

  “I’m fine.”

  His eyes told the story. No doubt he knew that she lied but because he wanted her to be okay, he didn’t question her. “And Addie? How’s our baby girl?”

  He’d missed her first birthday due to his deployment to Afghanistan. She’d be damned if he’d miss another. “She’s beautiful. And she’s great. She misses you. Just like I do.”

  His eyes grew suspiciously moist. “I miss you too. Both of you.”

  She smiled for him. “You’ll see her soon. Don’t think they’re going to keep you here for long. There’s no way we’re going to let that happen.”

  His jaw hardened. “I’m charged with murder, Rach. There’s no bail in the military. I’ll be here until the court-martial. It could be up to three months or more while they build their case. And after…”

  “There will be no after. We’ll get them to drop the charges when we prove your innocence.”

  He looked down. A long silence settled. So long it frightened her. It told her he was concerned. And not at all as certain as she was that he would be released soon.

  “When the army files charges and proceeds to court-martial, their conviction record is ninety-nine percent, Rach. They have no intention of losing this battle.”

  His words, the statistics, stuck in her head like glue. Ninety-nine percent convictions. She fought for composure, for some sort of perspective and hope.

  “What have they told you?” he asked finally.

  She swallowed hard. She didn’t know if she could say it. But he needed her to. “Nothing that makes sense. They said that …that you shot a man. An unarmed non-combatant. That you’ve been charged with murder. And that there’ll be … like you said, there’ll be a court-martial. That they provided you with a lawyer.”

  “Yeah,” he said sounding disgusted. “A military lawyer.”

  “We’ll get you a better one. I’ve been working on it. I know you’re innocent,” she restated with emphasis when his gaze disconnected with hers to focus on a spot behind her head. “Baby, I know you. Everyone on base knows you and they don’t believe for a second that you did anything wrong. I don’t understand how the army could think you did this.

  “Mac,” she probed gently to get him to look at her again. “If … if you shot someone, it had to be in self defense. Or … or … because you were following orders. It was Afghanistan. It was war.”

  Even then, she didn’t believe he’d obey an order to shoot an unarmed man. But then she’d never believed the army would turn on a man who had devoted his adult life to serving his country.

  “You have to tell me everything. Everything that happened.”

  He stood suddenly. Cupped the back of his head in his hand and walked across the room. “That’s the problem.” When he turned back to her, his eyes were haunted. “I don’t know.”

  It was her turn to look bewildered. “What don’t you know?”

  “I don’t know what happened. Rachael …” His eyes searched hers, imploring her to listen. “I don’t know because I don’t remember.”

  The long silence, the look in Mac’s eyes … both told Rachael it was true. He didn’t remember. No wonder he looked so lost.

  “Nothing? You remember nothing about what happened?”

  He rolled his shoulders, shook his head. “Have you talked to Ian?”

  Ian Hughes was Mac’s best friend. One of her best friends, too, for that matter. Unusual circumstance and a little luck had managed to see them both deployed to the FOB in Afghanistan at the same time.

  “He called me last night.”

  “What did he say?”

  She thought back to Ian’s call and the stoicism and concern in his voice. “He … he said he’d gotten leave approved and would be here tonight. He said that I wasn’t to talk with anyone but you. And you’re not to talk with anyone but an attorney. A civilian attorney. And he asked if you’d seen a doctor yet and if not to make certain that you’re checked out by one.”

  And just that fast – that other fear, the one she’d tucked away because she couldn’t deal with two disasters of this magnitude at the same time, resurfaced. “Why does he want you to see a doctor? Are you sick? Are you hurt? Cassie said you weren’t injured.”

  Her imagination had been running wild since Ian’s call. Cassie and Mac had both said he was okay. But Ian … Ian’s question about seeing a doctor had terrified her. Making her think that he’d been … shot, maybe? Caught in an IED explosion? That he’d gotten some mysterious disease? A concussion?

  Her last thought stopped her cold. Because I don’t remember.

  A concussion could affect memory.

  “Mac? You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m okay. I’m … okay,” he assured her, not sounding within a continent of okay.

  “Then why does Ian want you to see a doctor?”

  Again, he cupped his nape with his hand, a familiar gesture of fatigue and frustration and she was afraid she was making things worse.

  “All right,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “Just … just start at the beginning, okay? Tell me the way you need to tell me. Start where you need to start.”

  He drew a steadying breath then slumped back down on the metal chair. Looking pale and depleted, he nodded and slowly began talking.

  Chapter Three

  “We were on a routine night patrol in the village.”

  “We?” Rachael prodded gently.

  “Me. My platoon. And Ian.”

  “Ian was on patrol with you?” That didn’t happen. Mac had been promoted to 1st Lieutenant last year, but Ian was a captain and outranked him. From everything she remembered Mac telling her when he’d called a few months ago, excited that they’d run into each other, Ian was a company commander – but not Mac’s company. Plus Mac had told her that Ian spent most of his time as a liaison officer based at the TOC – the Tactical Operations Center. Mac was a platoon leader – boots on the ground, front line at the FOB – Forward Operating Base.

  He closed his eyes, weary.

  She made herself settle down and listen.

  “Anyway, I was leading a small platoon - fifteen guys - on a routine ‘winning hearts and minds’ walk- about in the village. We did a lot of that. Getting to know the people. Helping where we could. Gathering Intel. Ian came along because he didn’t get to be in the field too much and so that we could spend some time together as well.”

  He paused again, and again, she made herself stay silent, giving him the time to get this out on his own terms.

  “I was just shooting the breeze with this local guy. We called him Jack.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t pronounce his real name so…” He shrugged again. “Anyway, he and I had talked before. He’d given us some solid intel on a Taliban arms shipment a couple of weeks before, so we made it a point to swing around his neighborhood every once in awhile to see if he had any more goods for us. He was about my age. Had a little girl. Addie’s age. So I showed him a picture of her.”

  He stopped abruptly and the look in his eye that she recognized as ‘proud daddy’ quickly melted to a look of unimaginable grief. He needed to see Addie as badly as she needed to see him. But today hadn’t been the day to bring her. Now hadn’t been the time.

  She wanted to reach for him again. Remembered the guard’s warning and controlled herself.

  “So, after a while, he asked me to come inside his house, wanted to show me something. I didn’t completely understand him. His English was hit and miss and my Pashto was worse. But I figured he wanted me to see his daughter, or something.” He shrugged. “It seemed like he would consider it a lack of trust if I didn’t go, so I followed him inside.”

  “Alone?”

  He nodded. “That might have been my first mistake. Ian and the guys waited outside. I didn’t figure I’d be there more than a few minutes.”

  His eyes went cold and dark then. “And that’s the last I remember until I woke up on the floor with a banging headache and a bloody lump on the back of my head.”

  “My God,” she whispered under her breath. “Do you have a concussion? Is that why Ian wants you to see a doctor?”

  He waved off her concern. “I’m fine. Whatever or whoever hit me, knocked me cold. When I woke up, Ian was standing over me, the platoon was packed inside the small house, guns drawn … and a woman and a little girl were wailing and crying like their hearts had been ripped out.”

  He hesitated. Ran a hand over his jaw. “I’ll never forget that sound.”

  Then his eyes went a little wild, a lot lost.

  “And the Afghan man? Jack?” He glanced at her then quickly away. “He was dead. Splayed on his back on the floor. Blood pooled around his head. And my rifle barrel was still hot from firing the rounds that killed him.”

  A silence as large as a crater filled the small room.

  Rachael couldn’t catch her breath. And Mac looked so tortured and grief-stricken, it hurt her heart to look at him.

  “And that’s it. I don’t remember walking into that back room with him. I don’t remember shooting him. I don’t remember getting hit. Nothing. It’s all gone from the time I walked into the house to the time I came to. A black hole. A huge yawning black hole.”

  “And the Army knows that? That you don’t remember shooting anyone? That someone knocked you out?”

  He nodded.

  “Then how can they say you did it?”

  “People accused of murder lie, Rach. And it was my gun. My ammo that killed him.”

  The sound that came out of him was meant to be a laugh. It was more of a groan. “Plus, they have a witness.”

  “A witness?” All the air seemed to leak out of her lungs.

  He met her gaze straight on. “Ian. Ian is their witness.”

  Mac hadn’t broken down. Not in front of her. Not in front of anyone. He’d gone straight to his cell after Rachael left – still aching to touch her. Hating himself for putting her in this position.

  He’d passed on lunch and dinner. Then he lay for hours on his back, his arms crossed behind his head, unaware of the tears trickling down his temples and into his ears when he thought about his daughter and his wife. Neither of whom he might ever get to hold again.

  He stared at the gray ceiling. Stared until the day grew long. Willing his mind to forget that he’d had a life before Leavenworth. Knowing he had to accept it. Knowing that hope in a hopeless situation, would amount to the worst kind of torture.

  As lights went out and the first of the silence settled deep, he thought back to the night his life had been changed forever…and tried, with everything in him, to remember what had happened…

  ... “Just another day in paradise,” Private 1st class Cal Reynolds sang as he dropped a stack of paperwork on Mac’s makeshift desk in his makeshift office inside the makeshift officer’s tent. Makeshift. SOP for the army.

  “Day two-hundred-sixty-one, to be exact,” Mac’s office assistant continued as he dropped down on a folding chair next to Mac’s desk. “Only sixty more-”

  “Stop,” Mac said with a sideways grin. “We don’t count the days. Remember? Bad luck.”

  “It was bad luck to be deployed to this dust bowl,” Reynolds grumbled, yawned and knuckled his eyes. “Damn dust gets into everything.”

  “So change your skivvies. Maybe that’ll improve your disposition.”

  Reynolds grunted, absently picked up the framed picture of Rachael and Addie from the corner of Mac’s banged up metal desk. “Lucky man,” he said after studying it and setting it back down.

  For a fact, Mac thought. He’d face-timed Rachael a little more than an hour ago. Despite the time difference, they somehow managed to talk every few days, even if only for a few minutes. Today had been sweet. Addie had drooled and grinned and practiced, “Da Da,” just the way Rachael had taught her in between squirming on Rachael’s lap and repeating, “Down, down,” until Rachael had finally surrendered and let her go.

  God he loved them. Missed them. Longed for Rachael – especially after he’d received the care package that had arrived yesterday. Hard candy – butterscotch – his favorite, lip balm, eye drops, wet wipes, and many other much appreciated items. But most of all, he loved the black lace thong she’d tucked inside as a special gift to remember her by. They smelled of her. The lotion he’d given her for her birthday. Her natural, sexy scent. Yeah, he’d remembered her a couple of times last night after lights out. God, had he remembered her.

  “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Reynolds asked with a knowing grin.

  Mac cleared his throat and worked up a scowl. “Haven’t you got something you need to do? Something other than speculating about my wife? You know. Army stuff? Work?”

  Reynolds smiled and slowly pushed his long, lean, Tennessee boy body out of the folding metal chair. “Whatever I do will just make more work for you Lt.”

  “Bring it on.” Anything to make the days go faster. He had Rachael’s panties for the nights, he thought suppressing a grin. But the days. They went way too slow.

  “I’m going to grab some chow,” Reynolds said. “Mess hall will be closing for the day soon. You want me to bring something back for you?”

  Reynolds had only been assigned to his unit a month ago, but he’d already figured out that Mac was more likely to work through chow and had adopted the premise that a CO with a full stomach – even if it was FOB chow – was much easier to work with than a hungry one.