Page 8 of Better off Dead

I took another step. Then my new question was answered, too. And not in a way I expected. The woman nodded to me. She turned. Walked back to her Jeep. Leaned against its rear. Shrugged her shoulders. Sighed. Raised her gun. And pressed its muzzle against her temple.

“Stop.” I hurried toward her. “You don’t have to do that.”

She looked at me with wide, clear eyes. “Oh yes. I do.”

“No. You did what—”

“Get back.” She held up her free hand, palm out. “Unless you want to wind up covered in blood and brains. I’ll give you three seconds. Then I’m going to pull the trigger.”

I believed her. I couldn’t see any way to stop her. All I could think to do was ask, “Why?”

She looked at me like the answer was so self-evident it was barely worth the energy it would take to respond. Then she said, “Because I lost my job. I disgraced myself. I put innocent people in harm’s way. And I got my brother killed. I have nothing left to live for. I’d be better off dead.”

Chapter5

Losing a job can bea blow. I know. I’ve had the experience. But the feeling pales into nothing beside losing a brother. Into less than nothing. I know. I’ve lived through that experience, too. And if you think you’re responsible for your brother’s death, the burden must be even heavier. Maybe too heavy to bear. Maybe there isn’t a path back. I wasn’t sure. But I hoped there was a way to survive. In this case, at least. I didn’t know what shape it should take, but I hoped something could help this woman. I liked the way she stood up for herself. I didn’t want her story to end with a self-inflicted bullet at the side of some lonely road.

—

I stood myground and counted to three in my head. Slowly. The woman didn’t pull the trigger. I didn’t get covered in her blood and brains. I took that as a good sign.

“I heard what that was guy was saying.” I waited a couple more seconds. My eyes didn’t leave her trigger finger. “Michael’s your brother?”

“Was my brother.” The gun was still pressed to her head.

“You were looking for him?”

“That’s what got him killed.”

“You were looking for him on your own, is what I mean. You hadn’t gone to the police.”

“Was he on the wrong side of the law? Was he a criminal? That’s what you mean. And the answer’s yes. He was.” She lowered the gun. “Gold star to you for figuring that out.”

“And you?”

“No. Well, yes. Technically. By association. But only because I infiltrated Michael’s group. I was trying to get him out of there. He wanted to leave. Straighten himself out. He got a message to me. You didn’t know him. He was a good man. In his heart. That last tour changed him. What the army did was wrong. It derailed him. Left him vulnerable. Some other guys got their hooks in him. Took advantage. He made some bad choices. Clearly. Which is on him. I’m not making excuses. But it was a temporary thing. A blip. The real Michael was still in there somewhere. I know it. If I could have just gotten to him in time…”

“I’m not judging. I understand why you didn’t go to the police before. But things have changed.”

The woman didn’t reply.

I said, “The guy who killed Michael? Get him arrested. Go to his trial. Give evidence. Put him away for the rest of his life.”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t work. The guy who killed Michael is too careful. He won’t have left any proof. Even if they believe me the police could look for months and not find anything.”

“Maybe the police don’t need to find anything. We could go visit the guy. I heard a name. Dendoncker?”

“That’s the asshole.”

“We could chat. I’m sure he would soon feel the urge to confess. With the correct kind of encouragement.”

A small, sad smile spread across the woman’s face. “I would love to go visit Dendoncker. Believe me. I’d be there in a heartbeat. But we can’t. It’s impossible.”

“No such thing as impossible. Just inadequate preparation.”

“Not in this case. Getting your hands on Dendoncker cannot be done.”

“How do you know?”

---