Part 43 (2/2)
”Is it working?”
The waitress arrived with the drink. ”Here you go, hon.”
When she left, Naomi took a sip. ”Okay-stop trying to manipulate me. We can talk. Why did you leave the marines?”
He opened his mouth to tell her what he'd already told Cal and Reid, but what he said instead was, ”I owe a guy.”
”What? Money?”
”No. There was this kid, Ben. Lousy marine but a great guy.” He explained how Ben hadn't had any family. ”When he died, I'm the one who wrote the letter. I need to find his girlfriend so I can deliver it to her.”
”Why?” she asked. ”What's so important about a letter?”
”It's all that's left of him.”
She touched his arm. ”There has to be something else. You don't leave a career to deliver a letter. Why do you owe him?”
”He took a bullet for me.”
Walker stared at the table. He could still see everything about that moment as clearly as if it had just happened. It had been cold in the village. There'd been snow the night before and he and some of his men were following tracks. Insurgents had been spotted in the area. Everyone was on alert. Walker had been the most experienced and he knew they were going to have trouble, but even he hadn't expected gunfire to come from the caves.
”There weren't any tracks,” he said, more to himself than Naomi. ”I'd checked the caves myself the previous evening and no one had been there. How could they have gotten in without leaving footprints?”
”Walker?”
He shook his head. ”Ben heard something. I don't know what. Suddenly he pushed me aside and then he was dead. The bullet caught him right in the heart. He didn't have a chance to say anything.”
He finished his beer and leaned back in his chair. ”I owe him. I'm going to find Ashley and tell her he died bravely. I want her to have the letter. Someone, somewhere has to care about that kid.”
She still had a hold of his arm. She moved her hand down until their fingers laced together.
”I'm sorry,” she said. ”I know that's lame and meaningless, but I'm really sorry. I won't say anything.”
”Keeping my secrets?” he asked.
She nodded.
Tears filled her eyes. She might be forty, but she was d.a.m.n beautiful. Her full mouth quivered. A single tear rolled down her cheek. He brushed it away.
He'd always thought it must be a good thing to be able to cry. To ease the pain that built up inside. He never managed it himself. Not even when he'd crouched there, holding Ben's body.
”I know how much it hurts,” she whispered.
He appreciated the sentiment, even as he dismissed it. She squeezed his hand.
”Walker, I know,” she told him. ”I was married once. A long time ago. I had a child. A son. He was great. Smart and funny and curious and just the greatest kid ever.”
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