Devil’s in the Details (7 page)

Bill smiled tightly, "The police have anything?"

I shook my head as my mother whisked over, setting her massive creations down in front of us. "Not really. There’s a rookie detective on the case. A real stiff woman that has no tact, but I can tell she has nothing to go on." I motioned to the sandwiches, "Let's eat. We can talk more after dinner." I winked at him and turned to my mother to compliment her on the size of the turkey and cheese sandwich in front of me.

After lunch, and after Bill and my mother embarked on their hour long Sunday afternoon walk with the Scotties, Annie and Barney, I snuck out to the back patio with my laptop. Sitting on the cushy chaise to stare out at the massive backyard. The view was my favorite part of my mother's house, sitting on an acre of land that rolled up into the high mountains of Sperryville, Virginia. It was still cool, but there were hints of spring starting to settle in as the treetops were filling in with green leaves. Making me want to take deep breaths of the cool, clean mountain air and continue to chase out the stink of the city and the occasional smells of that night that still lingered in my nostrils.

Curled up in an old blanket. I stared out into the backyard. My mind returning to the blonde and the image from the security cameras. Her eyes, I always returned to her eye and the way they looked at me.

I had come to my mother's house in hopes of trying to forget that night and the crazy idea of finding the blonde who carried me to the hospital. But after a day, I couldn't. I only found myself thinking about her more. To the point that I barely paid any attention to the conversation going on around me or when the dogs happily climbed up on my lap and napped away as I zoned out. I wasn't even able to pay much attention to my mother's insistent requests to stay a few more days until it was settled upon. I apparently had said yes to staying until Wednesday under her watchful eye and care. Which was fine, the longer I was away from the city, the better.

But with every minute I sat in the chaise, burying my nose in the blanket, I grew anxious. My thoughts running to different ways of reaching out to the mysterious woman. Whether it was to email her at her faculty email address, hustle the admissions office for a phone number, or call on a police favor and get an address. Then there was the extreme option, going to the Naval Academy and meeting my savior face to face.

I chuckled to myself, looking up at the evening sky, "You are crazy Alex, you don't even know this woman." I didn't know her, and I should be more concerned with helping that cold detective find the clues to close this case. Not chase after a woman who was there in my moment of need.

A very beautiful, blonde woman with eyes the color of expensive granite.

I fidgeted with the frayed edges of the blankets, turning to the sounds of Barney barking his way back to the house, when spontaneity struck. I dug out my phone, tuning out the sounds of Annie and Barney barking together, showing Bill and my mother the way home, and sent Stacy a text.

-Stacy, want to go to sightseeing at the Naval Academy with me on Wednesday? I will buy you a lobster roll.-

-The Naval Academy? I thought you were over men in uniform?-

I smiled, I was over men in uniform since I broke up with the NYPD cop, but there was something about a woman in uniform that had caught my interest.

–I am, but I’m off for two weeks and Bill tells me it's a must see? There's also an outlet mall outside the campus. –

-Sold. I will pick you up Wednesday morning. –

I shook my head, Stacy was a sucker for shopping, bargains or no bargains. I replied to her and before I locked up my phone, I drifted to the picture gallery. Pulling up the security image I had sent to my phone for quick reference.

The longer I looked over the blurred edges and mottled colors, the more I felt the need to find this woman. It was like I was being driven by a force other than a need to thank her. I wanted to know this woman in a way that had me questioning a lot of things.

Sunday was always my favorite day of the week. It felt slower than the rest of the week and gave me an immense sense of calm. Like the one I was feeling now as I leaned on the top of the wooden fence, listening to Dale tell me about his first few days on a river boat in Vietnam.

"I grew up in Louisiana, Victoria, that's a hot tropical heat on its own. But sitting on those rivers in that metal tub, it felt like I was sitting on the sun and Jesus was dumping hot water over my head." He smiled at me, propping his hand on the top of his rake, "Everything smelled like rotting vegetation. I can't look at cooked spinach without feeling like I am right back on that damn boat." Dale shifted, "I don't imagine it was any better for you at the beginning of your war."

I smiled softly at the old veteran. I had found a strange connection with him, one that came with having seen the things he and I had in our respective wars. "I don't think I will ever like sand again. Especially on a hot day. Hot sand has a smell to it that can haunt you if you let it." I stood away from the fence, looking over my yard and how it lacked the bright colors dotting around Dale's. "I only spent a little bit of time in Iraq after Baghdad fell, then it was back on the boat to keep the kids in line. You know how it is, Captain."

Dale chuckled with me, "Always a babysitter, never really a soldier."

Dale and I both looked up to see Mary pop her head out the patio sliding door, "Victoria, you're more than welcome to join us for dinner. Pot roast and leftover cobbler?" She smiled warmly at me like my own mother would if she was still alive.

I raised my hand politely, "Thanks Mary, but I have a large stack of essays to read before morning. The midshipmen would not understand why their grades were delayed."

Mary grinned, "They would if they had my pot roast." She waved at me, "Leftovers will be there if you want it. Stop on over in the morning and I will send you off with a hearty lunch." Mary then pointed at Dale, "Ten minutes and you better be washed and sitting at the table."

Dale saluted his wife, "Yes ma'am." He then turned to me, "If you change your mind." He raised an eyebrow my way as a silent plea for me to come inside for more war stories.

"I know. Thank you again." We parted ways, entering our houses at the same time. Dale to sit down to a lovely dinner with his wife and I to sit in my den watching old movies with essays, eating leftovers.

Sitting at the desk, I half debated going next door and indulging in a moment of normal. Sit with my neighbors and pretend for an hour or two. Live a normal life, one that was taken away from me against my will.

Pressing the power button on my thin remote, I reached for the first essay on top of the smaller stack I had left to grade before morning. The television lighting up with Cary Grant in
 I Was a Male War Bride
, showing in glorious black and white. I smirked to myself, reciting the lines as they were spoken, having seen this movie almost a hundred times. I could recall it in my sleep like I was feeding the lines to Cary from the sidelines. I had also decided on finishing off the lasagna I had made when I got home from my late night job with Thomas. Thinking of how nice the thick, gooey cheese would end this day on a high note.

Flipping open the first page of Ensign Christenson's essay on Patton, I faded into grading mode, barely hearing my phone ring from the far corner of the desk. Blindly reaching for it and answering it, I frowned when I heard Dani's voice.

"Happy Sunday, Professor." Dani sounded less than cheery, but then again she never sounded overly cheery unless she was actively irritating me.

"Dani." I set my red pen down, leaning back in the chair and letting my eyes drift to the screen in an attempt to tune the woman out. "How can I help you?"

Dani laughed softly, "It's more like how can I help you?" The quiet clicks in the background told me she wasn't in the basement, but probably at home. "The old man just sent me confirmation of payment. Should be in your account now and ready for you to spend it on school supplies. He also wanted me to pass on that he and the old lady are very happy with the end result." I heard the obnoxious chuckle under her breath.

I rolled my eyes, it only took thirty seconds for her to irritate me, "Thank you. Is that all?" I looked at the clock, I could only think about the leftover lasagna I had in the fridge, waiting for me to reheat and eat the other half with a big glass of red wine.

Dani sighed, "Actually, no. There is a slight problem." She clicked a few more times making me wonder if the woman was forever in front of a computer, "You popped up late last night on my web search alerts. Looks like someone did an image search for your ugly mug." She paused, "The image looks like it came from the security footage from the hospital where you dropped your brunette damsel off. Why the hell did you look right at the camera? You of all people know better."

I clenched my jaw, "What is your point?" I was agitated now. I had looked up at the one far off parking lot camera. Gauging the distance, I was sure that it was a fixed one that only watched the upper level of the concrete parking structure.

"The point is, I had to go in and scrub the hospital footage before pining it on a fumbling security guard who was deleting last month's footage. I just dumped that night's footage into it right before he hit delete. The poor guy will probably be fired when the hospital has to pull out that footage when that warrant request is finally granted." Dani was rambling before she paused, "If the old man got wind of this..."

I cut her off, "I know." I leaned forward to rest my elbows on the desk top, "Thank you, Dani."

"No problem, Professor. Like I said you are my favorite." I heard her sigh quietly, "Do you want me to have the cleaning crew go check out your brunette's apartment? See how much she has on you?"

I twirled my red pen. I knew that a cleaning crew being sent in would raise some concerns that I would have to sweep under the rug. It would also put a target on the woman, one that would cycle back to me with orders to eliminate her. "You said she only ran my picture?"

"Yup, and it took her right to the Naval Academy website, straight to your horrid faculty photograph. I dug around in her web history and there’s nothing more than a handful of visits to a Netflix account and then a map to a small suburb up in Sperryville from her loft in the city." I heard Dani click a few keys, "It's waiting in your email." Dani's voice told me she already knew what I was intending to do.

"Thanks. I can take it from here. I’ll let you know if I find anything, but please..."

It was Dani's turn to cut me off, "Got it, Professor. Loose lips means we both end up dead." Dani hung up after issuing a quick goodbye.

Throwing the phone on top of the essays, I opened up my laptop and waited for it to power up. I was internally chastising myself. I never, ever, made mistakes. I had made one mistake a long time ago that led me into this life I now lived.

Clicking on the email from Dani, I opened the file. Looking over this Alexandra's internet browsing history for the last forty-eight hours, stopping as I stared face to face at the blurry image from the parking lot. I shook my head, "This is why you don't get involved." I hit print, grabbing the full address and small map that would take me to her apartment. Dani had also sent over the brunette's phone records, telling me that she had just made a phone call from Sperryville in the last five minutes that traced back to an address where a woman by the name of Katharine Ivers lived.

Running a quick background check on the woman as I walked back upstairs to change, I found the sixty-one year old woman to be her mother.

Giving me hope that Alexandra had returned to her mother's to recuperate for a few days.

Stripping down out of baggy old jeans and loose USN sweatshirt I had worn all day, puttering around the house and the yard, I pulled out the ubiquitous uniform of tight black running pants and black long sleeved running shirt from the closet. Walking past the large mirror on the back of the closet door, reflecting the image of my naval uniforms lined up perfectly to form a muted rainbow of khaki to dark blue and ending in the crisp snow white of my full dress uniform, I also caught the reflection of a memory that I always did my best to ignore whenever a mirror and I were in the same room.

A memory that I couldn’t erase, but only cover up with clothing and hide from my direct thoughts. Which I quickly did before I gathered my hair in a ponytail and rushed back downstairs. Only pausing on the way to the garage to pick up the well-worn black duffel bag that Dani called my "plumbers toolbox" from the coat closet, before rushing out the side door to the garage.