Page 6 of Mountain Murder

It was almost laughable to imagine a hulking, muscular soldier like Lance sitting down to enjoy a too small package of white and pink frosted sprinkled cookies. But everyone had their weaknesses. Audrey took the package, her stomach instantly desperate to binge anything she could get her hands on. “Hard to believe you have a sweet tooth for cookies. Shouldn’t you be snacking on a protein bar or an entire chicken or something?”

“What’s not to like?” He broke into a package of his own as he backed toward the bed. The frame protested his weight, but she had a feeling he’d had to accommodate to most of his surroundings throughout his life. “Frosting, crumbly cookie, and sprinkles that crunch when you bite down on them.”

That was her favorite part, too. She bit one cookie in half, instantly bolstered by the sugar rush. “Most veterans suffering from PTSD don’t allow themselves small pleasures like this. They don’t decorate like this. They don’t want photos of their family and friends staring at them. You’ve been taking your recovery seriously. I’m…very impressed.”

“None of it means a damn when the family and friends you have pegged on a board won’t talk to you.” Lance had lost the aggression and resistance he seemed to carry like a shield over the past few hours, and her heart hurt at the thought of him having to carry it all the time.

Humans just wanted to be loved, to be accepted and supported, to be seen. But bad things took that away. It numbed senses. It alienated nervous systems. It convinced sufferers that the worst parts of themselves were all other people saw. Living in a constant state of fight or flight became normal, familiar, a need born of pure survival, and Lance had been stuck in whatever moments that’d triggered the assault to his mind.

Audrey moved to take a seat beside him on the bed. “Not sure if you know this, but photos don’t usually talk.”

Her attempt at humor failed, and she had to remember she wasn’t actually his therapist. That she was broken. That she couldn’t help anyone right now. At least not until she helped herself, and finding the man who’d tried to kill her seemed like a good place to start. Something for her brain to focus on that wasn’t part of her therapy work. “I’m sorry. About your family.”

“Them not talking to me is the least I deserve after what I put them through.” He stared down into the silver cellophane bag, the cookies inside untouched. His shoulders rose with a deep inhale. “When I got back from my last tour, I stayed with my sister since I’d had to give up my place. She let me crash on the couch until I could find another apartment. At first, I didn’t notice anything different. Sure, it was an adjustment falling asleep to the sound of passing cars rather than missiles flying over the base, but I’d spent longer stateside than overseas. I figured I just needed some time.”

"Makes sense,” she said.

“It wasn’t until a couple days in I heard this huge bang.” His voice downshifted. Almost inaudible. “I was half asleep, still jet-lagged, but this need to stay alert, even while I knew nothing was going to happen in the middle of Denver, had me stashing my combat blade under my pillow at night. Just in case, you know?”

A heavy shift washed his expression clean. The muscles in his forearms peaked and valleyed with every second distorting into the next.

“I pulled a knife on my niece. She was five years old.” He hitched on that last word, bringing his gaze to hers. He pinched his index finger and thumb together. “Came this close to stabbing her. All because she’d dropped her water bottle trying to get to the TV before her brother that morning. She started screaming, crying.”

Shame, guilt, and terror infiltrated those compelling brown eyes. So unlike the man she’d watched these past few weeks. But that was it, wasn’t it? There was no way to map all the facets of someone’s existence in such a short timeframe. “I don’t really remember what happened after that. It’s like I blacked out. All I know is my sister must’ve come into the room and saw me with the knife. Someone called the police. I don’t know who. The cops who responded told me afterward that I wouldn’t let her get to her my niece. That I was convinced a five year old was strapped with a bomb. When they tried to intervene, I stabbed one of the officers. They arrested me for assault with a deadly weapon. Came to my senses a few hours later. Holed up in a cell.”

“And the officer?” She almost didn’t want to know. Triggers were so unpredictable, and violence was all men like Lance knew when at the mercy of an episode. It was hard to imagine the man who’d run into the woods to find her could turn on her so easily if provoked.

“He survived.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Turned out, he was a vet, too. Heard about a former green beret who’d started a recovery center for guys like me out in the middle of the Colorado mountains. I got on the next plane out.”

“Is that your niece in the picture with the birthday cake?” she asked.

“She turned six last month. I got that photo off my sister’s Facebook page. I know there’s a chance they’ll never forgive me for what happened, but I have to try. I have to prove I can be trusted. They’re the only family I have left,” he said. “And that’s why I’m going to help you find whoever killed Inez.”

***

Audrey’s room looked just the same as he’d memorized last night.

Though the light of day changed very little.

The adrenaline from being ripped back from a restless sleep had yet to wear off as Lance scanned the plain box that was supposed to be a retreat for recovery. No personal effects apart from a suitcase at the end of the bed, some toiletries on the dresser. From the look of it, she hadn’t wanted to settle in. Or couldn’t let herself.

“He was waiting for me over there.” Audrey secured her arms around her midsection. Not in defense, as most people would’ve assumed, but most likely in an attempt to hold herself together. Revisiting a scene where she’d almost died alienated that soothing tone in her voice. “In the corner.”

“You said it felt like he knew you.” Lance checked the window, running his fingers along the sill. No signs of mud or dirt transferring inside. The locking mechanism was secure. No footprints either. It would’ve been impossible for whoever’d broken in not to leave a trace of the outdoors inside.

Unless the killer hadn’t come through the window at all.

The weight of that realization suctioned the air from Lance’s chest, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. “You’re a trauma therapist. You work with a lot of victims, even those who become perpetrators. Is there anyone you can think of who might hold a grudge against you? A former client who didn’t feel they got what they needed, maybe?”

“What? No.” A flush rushed up her neck and into her cheeks, warming her skin. “The people I help have been through things you never imagined happening in this world. Have seen things that will stay with them forever. Every day is a day full of figuring out how to survive attacks from their own nervous systems. I can’t imagine any of them doing something like this.”

If there was a better explanation for the battle-ready tension keeping him half-awake at all times, he couldn’t think of one right then. Because she was right. Every day was a new hell in figuring out how to get through, to not be pulled under by his own memories. Audrey was the key to helping people just like him. Unselfish. Compassionate. Determined to make those she interacted with to see the good in themselves. That kind of influence didn’t just happen in a therapist’s office. It rippled out into other areas of her patients’ lives. Into his life. “What about an abuser? Someone who might resent losing their favorite plaything to boundaries and recovery?”

Audrey physically took a step back into the doorframe. Her eyebrows met over the bridge of her nose, gaze locked on the floor. “No. I’ve never had anything like that come up.”

His instincts prickled, and Lance turned to face her. “You said that like you’re trying to convince yourself it’s true.”

“It’s just…” She shook her head, seemingly snapping herself back into the moment. “No. Never mind. It’s not possible.”

---