Page 14 of Blood Game

“And he always felt that he had to be the strong one, the man of the house with just the two of us when he was growing up, he was always taking care of me and everyone else.” She was thoughtful.

“It's been almost four months since I received the call from his friend Danny. I don't know the details, of course. You're not allowed to know, military secrets and all that. He was in hospital for a long time after arriving from Germany. It was a bit rough there for a while.” She took a deep breath and another sip of wine.

“Their unit was attacked. That much I do know. You don't hear about that in the news reports. He lost several on his team,and James was badly wounded.” She paused, staring off at some distant point.

“His shoulder was the worst of it. They had to re-build it. There was a lot of damage to the muscles and tendons, that sort of thing. Four surgeries later, they've sent him home for a bit with frequent trips back to London to check on progress, and a lot of physical therapy. He has to go back in a few days.” She angled a look at Kris.

“Don't get me wrong, I love having him home but it has changed him. That and the time before. The wounds were...different, deep inside. He struggled with that, and I felt him slipping away, into a place where I couldn't reach him. Cate was here then. It was right after she bought the Tavern.

“He spent a great deal of time there, working on the Tavern. It's worse, I think, than physical wounds. Physical wounds heal, eventually. But the other wounds…” She looked off again.

“To this day he's never spoken of it, but I know that time out at the Tavern changed him. What he went through is still inside, just beneath the surface, a part of him. It comes out every once in a while, a look, something that's said, then he hides it all away again.” She stared down into her wine glass.

“He works out at the health club when he's home, getting his strength back. It's been slow progress, but he's determined...”

Kris knew the rest of it, the way it had been with her brother. “To go back.”

Anne nodded. “Yes, you see he feels responsible for the ones who didn't make it.”

She knew about that too, the bond where rank disappeared when things got ugly. Her brother had spoken about it, lines that disappeared when the man, or woman, next to you was someone you counted on, someone who might save your life. Or you might save theirs.

“It's just very difficult knowing the danger, knowing how he is about things. He feels that he let his teammates down. You saw a bit of that at the office. And there are other things. He doesn't let anyone in, doesn't let anyone get close.” She was thoughtful again.

“You asked how I deal with it,” Anne continued. “With a great deal of hair color to cover the gray, and a lot of sleepless nights.” She took a sip of wine.

“Wine helps.” Then she was serious again.

“It’s not up to me, you see. It's who he is, who I raised him to be. If he has the courage to make the hard choice, then I have to have the courage to accept it.”

Kris looked over at her. She'd never thought of it that way and realized there were all kinds of courage.

“So, what's next?” Anne asked, changing the subject. “What will you do about the manuscript? It will be a few days before Inspector Simson will have his report ready, trust me on that. And then there will be the insurance claims to be submitted.”

She had been thinking about that on the drive back to Inverness.

Not just a burglary, James Morgan had said, but someone looking for something. But what? The manuscript?

Stealing it made no sense. There had been enough publicity about Cate's next book, that it would easily be recognized, and any attempt to sell it would bring down a criminal investigation and numerous lawsuits.

What then? Money? Anything that could be easily turned on the street for drugs? But, as James pointed out, it didn't appear that anything of real value had been taken.

“I need to let my publisher know everything that's happened,” she replied as their server arrived with their supper. She wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

“And I still need to find the manuscript.”

“What about Cate's computer?” Anne asked over a second glass of wine.

“The police have it for evidence. It was badly damaged. I don't know if anything can be retrieved.”

Anne was thoughtful for several moments. “There's someone who might be able to help with that. He owns an internet café in the old part of town,” she explained.

“He does computer programming, web hosting, and some other kind of work on the side that he’s rather vague about. He’s bit of a character,” she went on.

“But once you get past the eye shadow and all the tattoos, he really is very talented. There was a bit of a dust-up last year with the authorities about someone who was one of the regulars at the café, some sort of illegal activity. The authorities made a bit of a to-do about it, but nothing ever came of it.” She took another sip of wine.

“He did some work for Cate last year when her old computer crashed. He was able to retrieve everything for her, and then set her up with off-site storage in case it ever happened again. They got along famously, but then Cate had a way about her. She was working with him on an archive of her father's work for a gallery in London. I have his number if you'd like to ring him up.”

It was two bottles of wine and late when she got back to her hotel. She checked her phone messages and frowned as she scrolled through a half dozen from her publisher. It was after office hours in New York, everyone would have already gone home for the weekend. And she had no answers.