Gabe (In the Company of Snipers, #8)(7)

“Hang in there, Kelsey. Libby and I will stop by this evening for a quick visit. We’ll bring the girls.”

“Thanks, Mark. Goodbye.” She hung up.

He turned to face an agitated Harley, whose fingers were tapping at his kneecaps. He looked ready to jump out of his skin, breathing hard again and his eyes blinking rapidly. “If she wants us to dig him up, then I say we start now. Let’s go.”

“Yeah. Find out how we go about doing that, would you?” Mark couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice this time.

“What? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“I’ll do whatever she wants. You know that, but I’m hoping this is just a phase. I won’t lead her on with some crazy ghost story. Damn it, man, we know who’s in that grave. You saw him at the viewing. Hell, he hasn’t been buried a week yet. We don’t need to push her face in it all over again.”


“But what if he wasn’t in that coffin in the first place? What if that wasn’t him?”

“Who else was it then? The guy sure looked like Alex to me. Think about it, Harley.”

“You think about it! I’m tired of thinking about it!” Harley bellowed. “God, Mark. That’s all I do. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. Every time I close my eyes, he’s lying there. Pasty white. Blood everywhere. Kelsey’s crying and all I want to do is puke. Shit! Judy thinks I’m losing my ever-loving mind. She keeps nagging at me. Wants me to go to her Lamaze classes, but I can’t. I get near a hospital and all I see is—him.”

“You’ve been talking with Kelsey, haven’t you?”

Harley didn’t answer other than to push away from the table and stalk out the door without a backward glance. He was too close to Alex’s widow, and just as emotional. They’d always had a brother/sister bond, but Mark needed him to help Kelsey out of her depression, not add to it.

This loss hurt deeper than others had. For some unfathomable reason, Harley was rejecting Alex’s death as much as Kelsey was. While that was probably a normal reaction for people in the depths of grief, it spelled trouble. No matter. Harley needed to stay away from her and take care of his pregnant wife.

Mark waited for Harley to make it back to his workstation before he called his desk phone.

“What the hell do you want now?” Harley’s snarl surprised Mark.

“How’s Judy?”

“I’ve got a damned pager. She’ll buzz me if she needs me.”

“The babies are coming today?”

Harley’s tone softened. “Yes. Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. Her doctor says they could be here at any time, but she’s had false labor before. God, I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore. What am I going to do with twins?”

“She opted out of a C-section?”

“You know how she is. The babies aren’t in distress. Her pregnancy’s gone smooth. She feels good and she’s a nurse. She ought to know. I think she’s bat-shit crazy to go the natural route, but I’m just a stark raving lunatic who wants to go grave digging.”

Mark ignored the heavy sarcasm. Yes, he knew how Judy was. Everyone did. Harley’s redheaded wife ruled the roost at the Mortimer home, a damned good thing for a guy from up-state New York with lingering PTSD. She brought order to Harley’s chaotic life and would soon bring them the two healthy sons they never thought they’d have.

“You’re no crazier than the rest of us right now, bro. Tell me if there’s anything you need, okay?”

“You bet. Umm—”

“Don’t worry about it, Mortimer. We’re all wound pretty tight right now. Focus on Judy and those little guys. You’re going to be a good father. Just wait. The second you see them, your life will change in a big way.”

“Shit.” Harley’s voice cracked. “It already has.”





Chapter Three


“Do you think I’m delusional?” Mrs. Stewart asked again.

She’d asked it twice, and Shelby had replied with the standard upbeat answers, but a question asked more than once meant something else was going on.

Kelsey had been a pretty lady before her husband’s death, judging by the wedding portrait on the mantle. Long chocolate brown hair. Trim. Tan. Her dark eyes full of stars and the sappiest smile on her face. Mr. Stewart and she made a handsome couple. They seemed to have had eyes only for each other.

Shelby stopped reorganizing the hallway linen closet. She’d only meant to change the linen on Mrs. Stewart’s bed anyway, but everyone knew pillowcases should be in pairs. The white with the white. The red with the red.

One thing led to another. Before she knew it, she’d stacked all the sheets, towels and pillowcases on the kitchen table so she could wipe the closet shelves down with a good disinfectant. Fresh and clean. Neat and tidy. The way every linen closet should be.

It could wait.

She closed the door and left her cleaning compulsion behind to join Kelsey at the kitchen table. “I guess everyone’s a little crazy, Mrs. Stewart. Is there something you want to talk about?”

“I wish you’d call me Kelsey.”

“I’m sorry. I keep forgetting, don’t I? It’s a habit. I try to maintain a formal line between my clients and me, but for you, Kelsey it is.”