Page 65 of The Art of Dying

I stepped back. “Soon?”

An apologetic look weighed down his eyes. “Very.”

“Are you going back? To Sudan?”

He winced. “Don’t ask me questions, baby. We can get in a lot of trouble. You, too.”

“We can’t be introubletrouble, right? It’s not our fault there’s been a breach. We don’t know how Mason got the intel, we just reported it,” I said.

“JAG is still deciding,” Kitsch said, frowning. “But it looks that way. The letter and that it was sent US Mail gives us plenty of evidence.”

I walked into the kitchen, filling the sink with water and dish soap. Kitsch followed me in, watching me place dishes into the soapy water. Once I finished a pot, he rolled up his sleeves and offered to rinse it. We washed dishes together like we’d done a hundred times before, but this time we didn’t joke or talk about our day. We didn’t discuss bills or family vacations. I scrubbed and he rinsed and dried in silence. Kitsch seemed to be glad to be on autopilot, staring into oblivion like he’d done several times since we’d put the kids to bed.

I looked down and watched Dorito rub his body against my legs. We’d watched her every time Kepner went out of town or deployed, making our place her second home. It made me sad to think she might wonder at some point why Kepner hadn’t come back to get her, but she’d been more vocal since the day Kepner would have died, so part of me thought she already knew.

“You’ve been quiet since the funeral,” I said, finally breaking the silence.

“It’s been… weird,” he said. He’d been drying the same dish since I’d handed it to him. “Not having Kepner pop his big head in every afternoon.”

I nodded. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “He shouldn’t have even been there. Half the guys in his squadron were wiped out.”

“They were all recovered, right? They’re all home.”

“In flag-covered coffins. It shouldn’t have happened. I should’ve gotten Kepner home instead of handing his parents a folded-up flag.”

“You got Matt home.”

He looked down. “He got himself home.”

“I know you feel it’s right to assume all the fault and none of the credit, but you can’t save everyone, honey. Risk comes with the job.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not responsible.”

“You’re not responsible. Mason is. And now the entire Marine Corps and US government is searching for him.” I sighed. “What are the odds that an idiot from Quincy, Mass got mixed up with Russian crime lords partnering with a Japanese company who’s bank rolling the overthrow of the Sudanese government? It sounds made up.”

Kitsch frowned. “You’re not supposed to know any of that. You have to be careful what you say and when you say it, Mack. I mean it.”

“Everyone knows something went down. Something big. The fact that you’re already going back…” I hesitated, knowing what I was about to do was a slippery slope. “Why is that?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“They know Mason told us information we shouldn’t know. This is the one time youcantell me.”

He sighed. “This is the last time I’m answering questions, okay? And I can only be vague.”

“Deal,” I said.

“They searched Mason’s parents’ house. Rita has been using a PO Box to send us those letters. I don’t know all the details, but it looks like Mason instructed her on a lot of things. They found a few items of interest in his old bedroom, and that led them to an apartment in Atlanta and that… well. What he said about chess was accurate. They’ve been twelve steps ahead. They paid off our assets to feed us bad intel. The guy we… eliminated… in Sudan? He was keeping his rebel army somewhat organized.”

“Why would Mason want the leader of a rebel army killed if they’re pushing for a coup?”

Kitsch subdued a grin that I’d made the connection, but it quickly faded. “He knew that his death would create a bigger problem. Now that their leader is gone, they’re aimless. Pillaging and raping, burning and killing anyone who stands in their way. They’re hitting villages, and the citizens are blaming the government. Turning on them.”

“Villages… they’re killing women and children,” I whispered.

“We have to clean up our mess.”

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