He took a few steps forward. “I’ve got some things to tell you. About your sister. I think you’ll be happy. I’m making progress. I really am. But I could use your help.”

  Palmer gripped his sleeve as Alex took a step toward the edge.

  Devine had been in Kandahar when a young woman had walked up to him, he thought, with a request for food and/or water. All the locals assumed American soldiers had plenty of food and water. And he had some extra provisions that he carried for that very reason.

  He had reached into his pocket and when he looked back up she was holding a detonator in her shaky hand. All she had to do was push the button and they were both dead.

  He could have done many things in that situation. Tried to shoot or knife or grab her before she blew the bomb pack, plead for his life, which was out of the question for him. Call for backup and hope that it arrived in time. Or do what he ended up doing.

  He had held out several packages of food and two bottles of water and added a smile on top of it, as though his initial assumption was actually the correct one, and that she was not going to C4 them both to an early grave.

  In her native language he said, “For you and your family. God be with you.”

  And she had taken the water and the food, and Devine and the woman had lived to see another day.

  In a calm voice he now said, “Alex, I know you don’t know this about me. But a woman I really cared for was found hanging in an office where I used to work.”

  He saw her bare shoulders tense and knew he had her attention now.

  Next to him he heard Palmer gasp.

  “But we later found out that she didn’t kill herself. Someone killed her.” He glanced at Palmer. “Like someone did Earl Palmer.”

  Annie Palmer’s mouth dropped open with that statement, and Alex turned a bit so she could see him and he could see her, especially her eyes.

  “W-what?” Alex said. “Earl?”

  “I know how incredibly frustrating it must be not to remember something, Alex. I have memories from the Middle East that I’ve tried for years to forget. And I just can’t. I may never be able to.” He tapped his head. “But to have something that you know is up there and you can’t find it?” He shook his head. “It’s not fair.”

  She started to rock back and forth. “I… if I could have remembered, Jenny w-wouldn’t be d-dead… If I… m-my fault…”

  He took a step toward her. “You were the victim, Alex, not the cause of anything. You were attacked and left for dead. And then your mind played tricks on you to try to get you through the mental trauma in one piece. But in doing so it might have made things worse.”

  Fat tears formed under Alex’s closed eyes. As they slid down her cheeks she shook her head. “Jenny shouldn’t be dead. She was so… perfect.”

  She turned and took another deliberate step toward the edge. There was nowhere else to go now. Except down.

  Palmer moaned and clutched his arm in fright.

  Devine said, “She loved you, Alex. She loved you so much that she refused to stop trying to find the truth, even after all these years. She risked her life to help you. You… you can’t answer that love, that devotion by… voluntarily taking your own life, when Jenny’s was stolen from her. I know you know that, in your heart.”

  As Alex hovered near the edge she opened her eyes fully and looked down as the gusts of wind, stronger up here than at ground level, swirled and throbbed around her slim, fragile figure.

  “You just can’t, Alex,” repeated Devine. “You know that. Jenny was a fighter. And so are you. I know you are. I believe in you. I believe in you.”

  A long moment passed during which both Devine and Palmer were holding their breaths.

  Then Alex slowly took a symbolic step away from the edge. A moment later she turned toward them. Devine hopped over the railing of the widow’s walk, rushed to her side, slipped one arm around her waist, and gripped her hand with his free one.

  “Come on,” he said. “You must be exhausted. And freezing.”

  Devine led her off the roof and down to the second floor, where he and Palmer got her into bed.

  At the doorway Devine said to Palmer, “Do you know what triggered this?”

  Palmer looked unsure. “I heard her call out, so I went to see if she needed anything. I don’t think she was awake. I mean, she was lying in bed, but she was moving around sort of jerkily and saying stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?” Devine said quickly.

  “I don’t know. I mean, it seemed like she was having a nightmare, but where it seems so real you’re punching and kicking in bed? You know what I’m talking about?”

  He glanced at the now-sleeping Alex. “Yeah, I know.” He looked back at Palmer. “Anything you can remember her saying? It’s important.”

  An agitated Palmer thought for a few moments. “I remember her saying something like, ‘Why are you doing this to me? I thought we were friends.’”

  In his anxiety Devine gripped Palmer’s shoulders. “She said that, you’re sure? Friends?”

  “Yes. Why?” she exclaimed, looking both confused and uncomfortable.

  Devine didn’t answer her. He just turned and stared over at Alex.

  A friend who tried to kill you.

  CHAPTER

  54

  DEVINE AWOKE WITH A START and looked around at the somewhat familiar surroundings. He was in Jenny’s old room, where he had fallen asleep—he checked his watch—a mere four hours ago.

  He yawned and slowly stood, pressing down his rumpled clothes. He hadn’t bothered to disrobe because he had been too tired and the room was too cold.

  He washed his face in the bathroom down the hall, tried and failed to smooth down his hair, and slowly opened the door to Alex’s bedroom after knocking quietly and not getting an answer. She looked to still be asleep. He leaned in close enough to make sure he could see the steady rise and fall of her chest.

  He glanced over at a chaise against one wall, where Annie Palmer lay fast asleep under a heavy blanket. She had insisted on staying in Alex’s room, and Devine had decided to sleep on the premises, just in case something else happened.

  He quietly closed the door and headed down to the kitchen. He didn’t see Dak. He made himself coffee and drank it while staring out at the ocean through a rear-facing window. The tide was coming in and breakers were exploding against the rocky shore.

  “You’re up early.”

  He turned to see Alex standing there, barefoot and in the same white nightgown. Her hair was sleep tousled, and her eyes and face were puffy.

  “Just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” He held up the coffee. “Want a cup?”

  She shook her head and walked over to stand next to him. She gazed out the window, her features troubled; her eyes seemed to be searching for… something out there.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For not letting me do…”

  “I don’t think you would have, regardless of whether I was there or not.”

  Alex looked up at him. “Why? Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re stronger than you think. Because you reached a tipping point, but didn’t go over the edge.”

  “Why do you believe that was?”

  “Because you have a lot more you want to accomplish in life.”

  The look she gave him was soul-breaking, even for the hardened seen-all-the-bad-in-life former soldier.

  “I’m really, really… screwed up, Travis.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “And I don’t know if I can ever get back to… where I started.”

  He put down his cup, turned to her, and gently took ahold of her shoulders. “For the record, and I’m not just saying this, we are all screwed up, Alex. All of us, including me. It’s only a matter of degrees. What happened to you was horrifying and traumatizing and unfair as hell. None of it had anything to do with you and everything to do with the person who did it. So with that said, I’ll answer your question: Can you ever get back to where you started? The answer is no.”

  She shivered and started to say something, but he put a finger to her lips.

  “You will be better. You will be stronger. You will be able to take on far more than you ever thought possible. That’s the thing with life, Alex. It tests us, all the time. It wants to see how much we can take, before we crack.”

  “You sound like you speak from experience,” she said in a hollow voice.

  “The Army’s fundamental concept is based on breaking down every soldier to nothing, absolutely nothing. And then rebuilding that soldier in the version of the human fighting machine they want and need to do the job. I’m not saying it’s perfect or right or anything. I’m just saying that’s the deal. Only I volunteered to be put through that transformation. What happened to you took place without your consent. But the end result can be similar. You come out of it changed. But you come out of it tougher, because you took the worst shit life can throw at you, and you’re still standing.”

  “I don’t feel very tough right now.”

  “You do your art, you teach kids, you get out of bed every day and go about life. You’re a caring and compassionate person with a huge heart when you have every reason not to be any of that. That’s an enormous victory, Alex, don’t let anyone ever tell you it’s not.”

  She looked unsure, but gripped his arm, and said, “I think I’m starting to remember some things… about that night.”

  “I think you are, too,” he said softly.

  “But it’s still not there yet. I can’t… I don’t know… who…” She looked at him miserably.

  “There’s no rush on this, Alex, none at all. You take your time and just let it happen naturally, or as naturally as it can be.” He drew closer. “But look, one thing you can’t do is tell anyone that you’re starting to remember things, okay?”

  She looked up at him, and he could tell Alex knew exactly what he was leaving unsaid, because Devine felt to say it out loud now might do damage to her, real damage. But he didn’t want anyone stopping her from fully remembering either. It was a tricky balance, and Devine was not confident in his ability to get it right.

  “What did you remember?” He knew what she was going to say, because Annie Palmer had told him. But Devine wanted to hear Alex say it, if she remembered.

  “That it was a friend. That it was someone I knew who… hurt me.” She kneaded a finger into the side of her head. “It’s right up here, Travis. The name. I know it is. If I could only make it come out.”

  “Sometimes the harder you try to make something happen, particularly with your mind, the tougher it becomes to actually get to where you want to go. You will remember who it was, Alex. And when you do, you tell me, and then that person will be held accountable.”

  “Do you really think he was the one who hurt Jenny?”

  He hesitated, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to the woman. Not now. Not in the precarious state she was in. “I think he was, yes.”

  “When it happened, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. Believe that someone, anyone, could do that to… Jenny. She was so strong, so…”

  “… invincible?” suggested Devine.

  She looked up at him with her big, sad eyes. “Yes.”

  “The thing is, Alex, none of us are invincible, not a single one of us. And that includes the person who hurt you and killed your sister. And when we find him, he will come to realize that clear as day. I give you my word on that.”

  “I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” she said, a smile breaking through the gloom in her expression.

  “I can say the same about you.”

  She slowly wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his chest. “Thank you, Travis.”

  And Devine held the woman as tightly as he could because he knew better than most that either of them could be gone tomorrow, which was promised to no one.

  CHAPTER

  55

  MY GOD, DEVINE, YOU ARE a one-man trouble magnet,” exclaimed Fuss as she examined Devine’s shot-up car outside the police station. “Did you get a good look at them?”

  “The shooter I saw had on a ski mask. I already told you about the vehicle. I didn’t get the plate because there were no plates. They had at least one shotgun and one MP5.”

  “How in the hell did you get away, again?”

  He didn’t want to tell her about the unexpected aid from quarters unknown. “Outdrove them.”

  “But this happened last night and you didn’t call us,” she said. “Why?”

  “I didn’t want you guys walking into a trap where you were outmanned and outgunned. I did pass it along to my superiors. They’re following it up.”

  “Same people as the other time, you figure?”

  “Probably, with a fresh crew,” noted Devine. “Where’s the closest airport?”

  “The closest major airport is in Bar Harbor. They have twin asphalt runways, and commercial and private jets can land there.”

  “Then my people can check the flight data there for the last couple of days and see if something pops.”

  “What are you going to do for wheels? You’ll freeze to death in that thing. And the windshield crack’s gotten so big I’d have to ticket you. And there’s no rental place around.”

  “I made other arrangements.”

  As he finished speaking, Annie Palmer drove up in her grandfather’s old pickup truck. Her scooter was tied down in the truck bed.

  She rolled down the window. “It’s not fancy but it does run and the heater works. And it has one of those old track tape player things and a box of tapes. My granddad was a big fan of some guy named Hendrix and a band called… the Doors?”

  Devine cracked a grin. “Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison, what more does one need? I’ll drive you back to the Brew and offload your scooter.”

  “Thanks.”

  Devine turned to Fuss. “I’ll let you know what we find out.”

  “Thanks. And don’t get this truck shot up, okay?” warned Fuss.

  Palmer looked surprised and then noted the shattered condition of Devine’s Tahoe, with particular focus on the small holes in the windshield.

  “Wait, are those—”

  Devine opened the driver’s side door. “Slide over. You have hungry customers also craving caffeine and I’m one of them.”

  As they drove off she said, “What did you mean last night when you said someone killed my grandfather?”

  “I’ll explain all that later, I promise. But I need to think it through and then dig up some more facts, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, though she didn’t look or sound happy about it.

  He dropped Palmer and her scooter off at Maine Brew, had some breakfast, and got back into the truck.

  He saw Earl’s box of tapes, which was on the floorboard. “Damn,” he said to himself as he looked at the array of works by iconic musicians.

  A master sergeant he’d served with overseas had taught him about sixties rock-and-roll and it was now Devine’s favorite genre of music. A minute later he was listening to Hendrix bang out “The Star Spangled Banner” like no one else ever could, even with the left-handed Hendrix playing the right-handed guitar upside down. And the Kinks, the Who, and the Grateful Dead were all up on deck.

  He tapped the steering wheel in rhythm with the music while he drove to the location where he’d seen the light on the shore. He pulled onto the shoulder, got out, and walked in that direction. And then he understood why this spot had been chosen. Amid the rock there was a short stretch of sandy beach. He didn’t think anyone would want to wade through waist-high icy water to get to shore once the rocks kept the smaller boat from proceeding any further. But here they could have run right up on the beach, dropped off whatever, and the boat would have returned to the larger vessel out in the Gulf of Maine. He walked around to see if he could find any evidence of the people who had been here the previous night, like a cigarette butt or a footprint, but there was nothing. They had come and gone without leaving a trace. Devine figured this was not their first rodeo doing whatever they were doing.

  He got back into the truck and drove the short distance to where the Escalade had rammed the Tahoe and started firing at him. He saw lots of shiny glass shards from his back window and the windshield, and the part of the Tahoe’s rear bumper that had been torn off with the impact between the two trucks. He found some shell casings and pocketed them. He doubted he would ever find a gun to match them to, but one never knew.

  Devine then walked to the spot where the Escalade had spun off the road. The ground was all chewed up here but he could see the tire tracks clearly. He also noted where the SUV had gone back on the road. So it had not been disabled, but merely knocked out of the chase by the anonymous shots.

  He stood off to the side of the road and tried to re-create the scene in his mind.

  Devine had performed a J-turn and was heading in the opposite direction. The Escalade had mimicked this maneuver and was speeding after him when the shots had struck the larger SUV.

  He looked in front of him and then behind, trying to configure a rough trajectory of the third party’s shooting lanes in his head.

  Devine walked along the side of the road about a hundred yards and stopped, then looked up and down the road. It was all open field except for this spot where a towering multilimbed evergreen sat.

  He walked over to it and looked all around. A nice spot to do some decent sniping and not be seen, he concluded. But not a single shell casing could he find, so they had policed their brass, or maybe their polymer. But how had they gotten here? He’d seen or heard no other vehicle. And surely he would have under the darkened, isolated conditions. And they couldn’t have been simply waiting here, guns ready, for Devine and a chase car to just happen by.

  There was clearly more here than met the eye. And then a thought occurred to him.

  He called Campbell. “Is there a reason you didn’t mention you sent backup to cover my rear flank?”