Page 88 of A Deeper Darkness
Sleep didn’t come. After fifteen minutes she gave up and turned to Fletcher. He was staring out the window opposite, obviously lost in thought.
“Fletch. Tell me about Whitfield,” Sam said.
“What do you want to know?”
“All Susan could tell me was that he and Donovan were incredibly tight. Donovan’s journals backed that up. But who is he? Where is he from? What did he do in the Army? Did he go to school? Because I’m telling you, the way Donovan talked about him, he was a hero. Donovan worshipped him. Said he wouldn’t have made it out alive if it weren’t for Xander. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he’s a killer. And to send us to Taranto, and the friendly fire incident… Just, who is he?”
“Sun Tzu said, ‘If you know your enemy and you know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles.’”
“Exactly. I’d like to know who we’re really after here.”
“All right. Here’s what we’ve managed to find so far. U.S. Army Ranger First Sergeant Alexander Roth Whitfield was born in San Francisco, California, and moved to Colorado when he was two. His parents were hippies, pacifists, Vietnam War activists who, after the war ended, decided they’d had enough of the world and started their own commune in the mountains north of Dillon, Colorado. His father, Alexander Roth Whitfield II, was the heir to the Roth television enterprise. He met Sunshine Rollins at a party, fell madly in love, told his parents and their considerable fortune to take a hike, dropped out and tuned in. Alexander was their firstborn. His birth name was Alexander Moonbeam, but they called him Xander Moon. He had it legally changed to Alexander Roth III when he was eighteen, right before he enlisted. Guess he figured Moonbeam wasn’t a good strong Ranger name. He has a younger sister named Yellow Sun. She lives in Modesto, California, now, runs a metaphysical shop. Clean as a whistle.
“They homeschooled the kids. Xander’s army entrance exams show an IQ off the charts. He went through Basic and caught eyes, apparently he wasn’t just smart, but a physical machine. He started specialized training—Airborne, Ranger, Snipers, the works—and excelled at everything. If there was a school, he went through it. He’s a sharpshooter, won all sorts of awards, ran marathons and was first in line when we engaged in Afghanistan. Did three combat tours before he abruptly ended his career with the Army by voluntarily separating in 2008. He was the ultimate soldier. G.I.-fucking-Joe.”
Fletcher started playing with his cell phone.
“And then what?” Sam asked.
“And then he dropped off the face of the earth. He’s in a bit of hot water from Uncle Sam, hasn’t been paying his taxes. There’s just no record for him after he mustered out.”
“Did he go AWOL? Is that why he’s in hiding?”
“No. He left legitimately. Just chose not to return for another tour. He was lucky, most of the men he served with got stop-lossed and didn’t have a choice. He managed to sneak out under the wire.”
“So why did he leave? If he’d made the military his career, gone through all that training, why walk away? Donovan doesn’t talk about it in his journal. You’d think he would. His whole team mustered out. Why?”
Fletcher shrugged his good shoulder. “I haven’t a clue. All I know is Whitfield is a highly skilled killer. He was awarded a Silver Star, that’s nearly as good as it gets, has a Purple Heart, two Bronze Stars. This man has bravery and courage to spare, apparently. Luck, too. Oh, and he plays piano. I forgot that. He was some sort of prodigy.”
“A killer and a pianist. Interesting combination. Doesn’t exactly fit with his upbringing, does it?”
“No. But we never know what goes on behind closed doors. He’s a trained soldier who disappeared off the face of the earth. No job, no accounts, no accountability. And now all the men he was close to are dead. So don’t let the romantic warrior full of valor creed get in the way here.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” she mumbled. “When do we get there?”
The driver, whose name was Kip, looked over his shoulder. “Another hour.”
“Thank you,” Sam said. She was about to ask more about Xander when her phone rang. She recognized Eleanor’s number. Damn it, she’d forgotten to call. She answered with an apology.
“Eleanor, I’m so sorry. I meant to get in touch, it’s been a busy morning.”
“Oh, Sam, it’s good to hear your voice. I was worried when you didn’t come back last night. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you with Susan?”
“No, I’m not with Susan, I’m with Detective Fletcher. We’re heading to western Maryland to see if we can find one of Eddie’s friends. I meant to call last night, things just got insane, and then it was too late. I didn’t want to wake everyone. I’m fine, though. I suppose you saw the news about the shooting?”
“I did. I’m so glad you’re all right. I couldn’t take it if something happened to you. The detectives are okay?”
“They are. Worse for wear, but they’re both going to be fine.”
“I’m so relieved.” Eleanor sounded so old. The past week had really taken its toll. “Sam, you said you weren’t with Susan. Have you talked to her this morning?”
“No, I haven’t. Why?”
Eleanor sighed. “Yesterday was so hard on her. I suggested she get some air. I think she was planning to go to the house. But when I woke up this morning she wasn’t here. Her car’s gone, too. That’s why I assumed you were with her.”
“Did you try her cell?”
“Yes, and the house, as well. No one’s answering.”
