Chương 6
Traffic moved below her.
He said, “I made a mess.”
“Yes.”
“I gave a statement this morning.”
Her spine stiffened.
“To who?”
“My former public affairs officer helped me prepare it. I sent it to the outlets calling.”
“What did you say?”
“That my words were inaccurate and unfair to the personnel present that day. That they were spoken in anger. That multiple service members and emergency personnel participated in the rescue.”
Mara closed her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“I also said none of that changes what you did.”
She opened them.
“Sir.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I probably don’t.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Would you like me to retract everything?”
She looked down at a woman walking a terrier.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because that would also be dishonest.”
He exhaled.
“I’m not good at partial truths.”
“Nobody is.”
“I was there, Mara.”
“I know.”
“I watched them carry you out.”
She did not answer.
Weller continued.
“I watched twenty-three Marines and sailors come through the north gate because you reopened that corridor.”
“Pike reopened it with me.”
“Yes.”
“Reeve too.”
“Yes.”
“And crash crew.”
“Yes.”
“And Ruiz found us.”
“Yes.”
Weller’s voice lowered.
“I know.”
Mara gripped the railing.
“Then why did you say everyone ran?”
Another silence.
“When I saw that woman hit you,” he said, “I was sixty-three years old for approximately half a second.”
Mara almost smiled.
“What were you the rest of the time?”
“Forty-eight. Angry. Ashamed. Standing outside that compound while people I was responsible for were still inside.”
The wind shifted.
Mara sat in the plastic balcony chair.
Weller said, “I have spent eight years being grateful to you and angry with myself.”
“That doesn’t make anyone else a coward.”
“No.”
“Pike’s family could hear that sentence.”
“I know.”
“His daughter is old enough to be online.”
“I know.”
“You need to call them.”
“I already called his widow.”
Mara stopped.
“How is Anne?”
“She told me I had always been too fond of hearing myself talk.”
That sounded exactly like Anne Pike.
Mara rubbed her forehead.
“She okay?”
“No.”
The answer was simple.
Mara appreciated it.
“No,” Weller repeated. “But she was kind enough to let me apologize.”
Mara looked inside the condo.
Ethan stood by the sink, reading something on his phone.
Weller said, “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“People are asking about the incident.”
“They always do.”
“Not just reporters.”
Mara waited.
“A former member of the unit posted that my account was false.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“He used initials. M.R.”
Michael Reeve.
Mara closed her eyes.
“What did he say?”
“That nobody ran. That you disobeyed an evacuation order. That Lieutenant Pike died after going back in with you.”
For several seconds Mara heard only traffic.
Weller said her name.
“I’m here.”
“The post is spreading.”
“Okay.”
“It also says you were recommended for a higher award and refused it.”
Mara stood.
“That wasn’t supposed to be public.”
“I know.”
“Who told him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Reeve would’ve known some of it.”
“Yes.”
She pressed a hand against her abdomen.
The scar did not hurt anymore.
Sometimes the muscles beneath it did when she was tired.
Or frightened.
Or pretending she was neither.
Weller said, “Mara, I am sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“I started this.”
“Sloane started it.”
“I accelerated it.”
“That’s more accurate.”
He accepted the correction.
Mara looked through the sliding door again.
Ethan was watching her now.
“Do you have Reeve’s number?”
Weller hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Send it.”
“I’m not sure calling him right now is wise.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Mara.”
“Sir.”
His old instinct recognized rank even where none existed.
He sighed.
“I’ll send it.”
Michael Reeve did not answer.
Mara left one voicemail.
“Mike, it’s Mara Vance. I saw what you wrote. You’re right about Weller’s wording. You’re wrong if you’re saying Pike’s death belongs to me alone. I think you know that. Call me.”
She hung up.
Ethan stared at her.
“What did he write?”
She showed him.
He read it twice.
His mouth tightened.
“This guy is blaming you for someone dying.”
“He’s angry.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“No.”
“Did somebody die?”
“Yes.”
Ethan sat at the small dining table.
“Pike?”
“Yes.”
“Because he followed you?”
Mara put the phone down.
“Because a ceiling beam came down while we were getting people through the corridor.”
“And you were injured.”
“Yes.”
“Did you disobey an order?”
“Yes.”
His face changed.
Mara watched him have the reaction most people had when the clean version of courage acquired paperwork.
“What kind of order?”
“Evacuate the building.”
“And you went back.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Ruiz told me twenty-three people were trapped.”
“Did the people giving the order know?”
“Not when they gave it.”
“Did you tell them?”
“There wasn’t time.”
Ethan stood.
“There wasn’t time to tell anyone, but there was time to go back inside?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds insane.”
“It was.”
He paced once across the room.
“Would they have gone back if they knew?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
Mara’s voice hardened.
“There was a fuel fire, Ethan. Communications were down in part of the compound. People were moving casualties. Nobody was standing around waiting for me to present a proposal.”
He stopped.
“I’m trying to understand.”
“I know.”
“And you hate that.”
“I hate that everybody suddenly thinks they’re entitled to understand.”
He looked at her.
That landed.
After a moment, he said, “Including me?”
Mara had no easy answer.
He nodded once.
“Okay.”
He walked toward the bedroom where they had left their bags.
“Where are you going?”
“To shower.”
“Ethan.”
He stopped.
She wanted to say something that fixed the conversation without fixing what was underneath it.
Nothing came.
He went inside and shut the door.
At ten, the Mercer Family Foundation announced that Sloane had voluntarily stepped away from her duties pending a board review.
At ten fourteen, Sloane texted Mara.
I did not volunteer.
Mara stared at the message.
Then another arrived.
May you like
They gave me the statement after it was posted.
Mara typed:
