Page 70 of Grissom
“That’s easy.” She looked Alex dead in the eye.“‘Head up. Shoulders back. Never let ’em see you blink.’”
“And where do you think he learned that?” Alex had leaned forward. His hands were loose, his long, elegant fingers hanging between his knees, and his icy-blue eyes focused on Tuesday.
“Parris Island?”
Alex nodded. “You’ll be okay. You’ve been taught by the best, and you’ll be back in the fight before you know it.”
For some reason, Tuesday needed to hear that. “Did you serve with him?”
“Didn’t get the opportunity, no. We were different generations, but he and his sons are all Marines. I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you.”
“Why didn’t he?” That would’ve been nice to have known about the man she’d married.
“Because men who return from war don’t discuss what they did or saw in combat. They come home, knuckle down, and get back to the business of living. The heroes are the men and women who didn’t make it home. Has Grissom mentioned any of his missions?”
“No, and he’s not going to start now, Boss,” Grissom interrupted from the hall doorway. “They’re over, they’re done, and we’re moving on.”
Alex cocked a subtle smile in Tuesday’s direction. “Sound familiar?”
She tossed a smile back at him. “Sounds like Freddie.”
Grissom took the seat directly opposite Alex, the coffee table between them. “Hey, Kels. What brings you folks to my neck of the woods?”
“You mean your tree farm?” Kelsey asked, her brown eyes sparkling. “Those pines in your backyard are beautiful with the snow on their boughs. They’d make gorgeous Christmas cards if someone were to take a few pictures while they’re glistening. I mean, look at that scene out there, people. It’s the perfect setting for one of those cheesy Hallmark movies.”
Grissom dragged a hand up the back of his neck. “Not happening, sorry. They provide too much cover, and I need a clear line of sight. Once I log off that acreage, we’ll be able to see anyone com—”
“You can’t cut those trees down,” Tuesday cut in. “I have memories out there, of you and your boys singing Christmas songs, right before we found our very first tree.”
A no-kidding smile broke through the weary expression he’d worn since she’d come home from the hospital. “Ourvery first tree?” he asked.
That word,our,meant a lot to him, Tuesday could tell.
Thank heavens Alex interrupted with a polite‘ahem,’before the hot flash creeping up her neck went nuclear. “Howie’s been interrogating Pam McCoy.”
Hearing his wife’s name wiped the smile off Grissom’s face. He tipped forward, his palms to his knees, his focus switched to his boss. “What now?”
Alex pointed a finger at Grissom. “You married a helluva liar, for starters. That woman wouldn’t know the truth if it spit in her face.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“She’s insisting that Tuesday was the aggressor in Puntarenas, then again when she stormed this place” —Alex held both palms forward when Tuesday opened her mouth toprotest— “Don’t kill the messenger. Those are Pam’s words, not mine or Howie’s. She said you interfered in what she claims was a peaceful reunion with her and her precious sons until you showed up.”
“That woman!” Tuesday exclaimed.
“Precious sons, my ass,” Grissom growled. “She lured Luke with what he thought was candy to get him to let her in. Jesus, he was holding the half-eaten bag of THC edibles that she gave him when we arrived on scene!” He raked a quick hand over his head. “What about the roofie she slipped me? What about—?”
Alex gave Grissom his chin. “One thing at a time. You’re right, though. What Dr. Pratt pumped out of your boy’s gut in the ER is all the evidence Howie needs to put Pam away for life. And what Doctor Windhall pumped out of you wasn’t a roofie, Grissom. It was scopolamine, and I already told you that. Remember?”
Grissom nodded. “Yeah. I remember. I’m getting better.”
Alex continued. “We now have more hard evidence against your wife than she can possibly manufacture against you, Tuesday. But I’ve got to tell you, Grissom, if she’d poisoned Lexie or Bradley, I would’ve already sent her to hell. No questions asked. No quarter given.”
“I should’ve done that the second I saw she’d gotten inside my house,” Grissom hissed.
“No, Grissom,” Tuesday interrupted. “Your boys didn’t need the image of their father killing their mother seared into their little brains. They needed you more that day than she needed to die. She’ll get hers. Just wait, you’ll see.”
“But she nearly killed you.” He was still so angry.
