Дэвид Балдаччи - King and Maxwell

“That’s great, Tyler,” said Michelle. “We can go into those details later.”

“So you just want to know more about his death?” asked Sean.

“Well, yeah.”

“The thing is, Tyler, the Army will give you all of that. You don’t need us. And I don’t want to take your money to find out information you’re going to get for free.”

Tyler rubbed at his eyes and didn’t answer.

Sean sipped his coffee and waited, choosing not to break the silence. He gave a knowing look to Michelle and inclined his head at Tyler.

Michelle touched Tyler’s arm. “Is there something else? Something you haven’t told us that’s troubling you?”

Tyler started to say something but then shrugged and looked at his watch. “I need to get going. We take a bus to the pool where we practice. I can’t be late.”

“What do you swim?” asked Michelle.

“Fifty free and the two hundred medley. I’m not that good. I mean, there are guys on the team a lot better than me.” He added, “Do you swim?”

Michelle said, “I prefer to keep just above the water and dry.”

“So… you guys will work for me?” said Tyler hesitantly.

Sean started to say something but Michelle said, “We’ll make inquiries, report back, and go from there, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” said Tyler, sounding a little disappointed.

He got up and walked out in a slouch, his backpack dangling off one shoulder.

Sean looked at Michelle. “Something is off here.”

“Glad you’re finally coming around to that,” she said.

“I mean, the kid was a shambles last night. Running around in a storm with a gun half out of his mind. And then he goes to school and sits here talking to us about his father’s death like it’s a business transaction. Where was the emotion? Where were the tears?”

“Girls cry a lot more easily than boys, Sean.”

“Not girls like you.”

“I have four older brothers. I was never officially a girl.” She paused and stared after Tyler. “But I get what you mean.”

“So what inquiries are you planning?” he asked.

“Got any contacts at the Pentagon?”

“Couple.”

Michelle held up the envelope. “Well, let’s take a look at these notes and then see what we can do.”

“And if all we can do is confirm what the Army has already told him?”

“Then that will have to be enough. But I don’t think it’ll play out like that.”

“Why not?”

“That kid is holding something back, Sean. Something that is scaring him.”

“Soldiers die all the time, Michelle. And their next of kin get notified. It’s standard procedure.”

“Well, this might just prove to be the exception to the standard. But there’s something else,” she said.

“What?”

“You referred to his dad in the past tense. Tyler answered but he spoke about his dad in the present tense. As though he were still alive.”

“Wishful thinking maybe?”

“He didn’t strike me as the type.”

Sean sighed. “Okay. We’ll do what we can. But just remember our deal about New Zealand.”

“Don’t worry. I ordered your Speedo online this morning.”

THE NEXT DAY SEAN PUT down the phone and stared at his desk. He was alone in the Spartan offices of King and Maxwell, Private Investigation. Michelle’s desk abutted his. His desktop was pristine. Everything in its place and items lined up precisely. He looked across at Michelle’s desk and frowned. It looked like someone had dumped a box of junk on it and then rifled through, spreading the debris around even more.

“I really don’t know how she finds anything,” he muttered darkly.

“Having another OCD [10] OCD – obsessive–compulsive disorder. fantasy about my desk?”

He looked up at the doorway. Michelle stood there holding two coffees, a folded newspaper under her arm.

“I’m that easy to read?” he asked innocently.

“We’ll be finishing each other’s sentences before long,” she replied. “And we’re not even married.”

“In some ways we’re more married than married people,” he shot back.

She handed him one of the coffees, laid the newspaper on her desk, and sat down across from him. “So did you reach your contacts at the Pentagon?”

Sean nodded. “Just got off with one, in fact.”

“And?”

Sean leaned back in his chair and studied the computer screen in front of him.

“And what I thought was straightforward is turning out not to be.”

Michelle sipped her coffee and fought back a shiver. The forecast called for a chilly rain or even possibly snow. And the sky looked like it would deliver on that forecast any minute.

“Meaning what?”

“I emailed him the name Sam Wingo along with the particulars that Tyler gave us about his squad, rank, and so forth. I figured I’d give my contact some time to look into it and that when I called he’d have all the answers.”

“But he didn’t?”

“No. In fact, he had no answers.”

“Did he say why?”

“He put it off on notification of next of kin, privacy policies, and things like that. Only I told him the next of kin had been notified.”

“What did he say to that?”

“Only that he could not go into it further.”

“Could not or would not?”

“Does it matter?”

“Did he confirm that Sam Wingo was dead at least?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Okay, that’s officially weird.”

“It could just be that they’re reluctant to release information about a KIA, Michelle. It’s a pretty sensitive situation. They don’t want to be accused of giving out the information to just anybody.”

Michelle picked up the newspaper and opened it to a page in the front section.

“I’m not sure that’s a valid excuse. Have a look.”

She handed the paper over to Sean, who glanced down it. It was a photo page of casualties in the Middle East wars.

She said, “Fourth row, fifth photo over.”

Sean looked there and read, “Samuel Wingo, age forty-five, sergeant first class, part of a battalion out of the Eighty-Second Division from Fort Bragg. Killed by small-arms fire in the Kandahar province.”

“Pretty much everything Tyler told us,” noted Michelle.

“Meaning everything they told him,” said Sean.

“So you’re having doubts too?”

“Don’t read too much into this. It could still be nothing.”

“They printed his picture, his name, and his rank in the paper along with the fact that he’s dead. So how confidential can it be? They wouldn’t even confirm to you that he’s dead, but all the readers of the Washington Post know that he is? How exactly does that make sense?”

“At one level maybe it doesn’t,” he said. “But keep in mind that they’ve had thousands of casualties over there. My contact might not have even known that was printed in the paper today. The Pentagon is a pretty big organism.”

“Okay, but I know that Tyler was holding something back from us.”

“So how do you want to proceed?”

“We told Tyler we would check into it and report back. We checked into it and now we’re reporting back.”

“We have nothing to report, Michelle. Unless you count abject failure.”

“We have to get him to open up. Maybe it’ll be better if I go alone.”

“To his house? With the wicked stepmother there? She might not let you in.”

Michelle held up her phone. “I’ll text him and arrange to meet him at the same place before swim practice.”

“You’re really going out on a limb with this, Michelle.”

“He’s a kid who lost his dad. He needs help, Sean.”

“I’m not saying don’t do it. Just be careful.”