Play Dead

Laurie doesn’t say much all night, and it isn’t until we’ve made love that she decides it’s time to talk. It’s unfortunate, because I have already come to the conclusion that it’s time to sleep.

“Andy, I’m going to tell you something because I think we should be open and honest.”

Uh-oh, I think, bracing for what is going to come next.

“I’m taking a risk by saying this.”

I don’t say anything, because I find it hard to talk and cringe at the same time.

“Andy, I think that if you told me the only way to keep us together would be for me to move back here, I would move. That’s how important you are to me.”

This conversation just took a turn for the better. “I feel the same way about you,” I say, and then worry that I may have just offered to move to Wisconsin.

If I made the offer, thankfully she doesn’t pick up on it. “I love where I live, Andy, and I love my job, but I would give it all up if that were necessary to keep you.”

My mind is racing for a way to appear understanding and generous and yet actually get her to move back here. “I would never want you to give that up,” I say. My mind obviously didn’t pull off the trick.

“And you’ll tell me if that changes? Because right now I love you more than ever.”

“I’ll tell you,” I say, knowing I won’t, because then she’d love me less than ever.

In the morning we have a quick breakfast, and I drive Laurie to the airport. We don’t talk about when we will see each other again, because we both know it might be quite a while. She’s used up her vacation, and if we get the new trial for Richard, I’m going to be intensely occupied with it.

I’ll still be jealous and worried about what she might be doing in Wisconsin, and who she might be doing it with. That usually begins about twenty-four hours after she gets on the plane to go home. She has never given me any reason to be concerned; my jealousy is more about my insecurity than her lack of trustworthiness.

“I wish I could stay and help you,” Laurie says.

“You’ve got your own criminals to catch.”

“You’ll keep me updated on what’s going on?”

She’s feeling left out; she’s not used to seeing me work a case without her having a role as my investigator. “I will.”

“I’m sorry, Andy. I’m having a tough time with this.”

“Move back here, Laurie. That’s the only way I’ll ever be completely happy.” That’s what my mind is thinking. What my mouth winds up saying is, “It’ll be fine, Laurie. It’ll be fine.”

And maybe it will. And maybe it won’t.

* * * * *

IN MY NEXT life I want to be an Army colonel.

Okay, maybe it’s not my first choice. But if I can’t be the starting quarterback for the Giants, or an all-star shortstop for the Yankees, then Army colonel is right up there on the list.

People listen to colonels. They follow their orders and don’t ask questions. They don’t ask if they can do it later or why it has to be done at all. Working for a colonel, Edna wouldn’t last ten minutes. What’s a five-letter word for “you’re out of a job, woman”?

The second-best thing to being a colonel is having one on our side, and thanks to Kevin’s sister’s choice of a husband, we have a beauty. I’m sure Kevin would have preferred that she marry an internist, but this has worked out pretty well.

Kevin has explained to Colonel Prentice that we need his help, and after asking a few questions, he made a phone call, and here we are at Fort Monmouth.

It’s the second time we’ve been to Fort Monmouth, and the place still does not look like an army base. It looks more like a collection of civilian office buildings, which is probably what it is about to be. The Army is closing Fort Monmouth as part of their overall base-closing plans. The town, like other towns facing the same situation, is quite upset about it. The base is a source of jobs and revenue that is hard to replace.

Last time Colonel Prentice helped us, he did so by sending us down here to meet with Captain Gary Reid, and he’s done the same thing this time. Captain Reid is now Major Reid, and he greets us just as crisply and politely this time. He informs us that he has already processed Kevin’s telephone request and has copies of the documents we need. They cannot leave the post or be recopied, he says, but we are free to sit in a private office and study them as long as we want. We are also allowed to take notes.

Archie Durelle’s Army record is relatively distinguished. He enlisted in 1994 and entered infantry training. He reached the rank of sergeant by the time he was sent to Afghanistan in 2001, and was a participant in the overthrow of the Taliban. He won a Purple Heart for his efforts, the result of a laceration from shrapnel.