Page 9 of Critical Doubt

"It doesn't matter. We didn't choose to fight because we were going to get something back. That's not why we did it."

Todd stared back at him. "Even if that's not why we did it, we deserve more. Look at our team. Three are dead. The rest of us are scarred in one way or another. It's not right."

He could see that Todd was getting more agitated by the minute. Paul's death had clearly pushed him over the edge. "If you want to get out of here, I'll go with you. We'll get a drink. We'll talk."

"No. I don't think you and I speak the same language anymore."

"Todd, come on."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, Ryker. You have your life. I have mine. They don't ever have to cross again."

"I'm worried about you, Todd."

"I'll survive. It's what I do. Other people die, other people get hurt, but not me. I'm not the one who takes the bullet. I'm the one who narrowly escapes."

"That's a good thing."

"Not when my friends are dying in front of me. Someone needs to pay, Ryker. Someone needs to be held responsible." He paused. "I have to leave. I need to be alone. I'm sure you can understand that."

He definitely could not argue with that need.

"Just tell Abby I'm sorry, okay?" Todd asked, desperation in his eyes. "Tell her I'm sorry about Paul, about everything. Maybe in the long run, she'll be better off."

He frowned. "Don't say that. Don't go, Todd. You shouldn't be on your own now." He was more than a little worried about Todd's state of mind.

"I have to leave, Ryker. I have to make this right. I have to find a way to change things."

"Change what?" he asked in confusion.

"You'll see."

"See what? You cannot leave like this, Todd."

"I'm fine. I know what I need to do, and it doesn't involve you. Don't follow me, Ryker. You could have helped if you wanted to, but you didn't. I don't need you now. No one does. Go back to your boat. Hang out with the fish. Maybe you'll end up better than the rest of us."

His gut churned as Todd stormed down the path to the parking lot. Todd had always been wired more tightly than the rest of them. But he'd never seemed so out of control, so filled with anger and rage. Maybe guilt was driving that anger. Todd was holding himself responsible for Paul's death.

Perhaps Paul's death was on him, too. In isolating himself, he'd let everyone down. He'd left them all without a leader. But there had been no team left to lead. And every time he'd stepped even a few feet outside of his quiet, his brain had gone haywire, the bells churning as if to alert him to something. But he didn't know what that something was.

Well, it was too late now. He couldn't change what had happened. He'd just go inside and pay his respects to Abby and then go back to his silence.

Although, as he headed into the church, it occurred to him that he hadn't heard the bells once during Todd's tirade. That seemed odd. But he should just be grateful that he'd finally been able to hear a friend. He could do better. He had to do better. Paul was gone. But there was still Todd, Mason, Hank…he could reach out to them. He could make sure they were okay, or he could get them help for whatever pain they were in. No one else needed to die.

Seeing her dad was always a painful experience. Savannah took a quick breath as her father's gaze settled on her. Then he excused himself from the conversation he was in and crossed the room. She mentally steeled herself to be ready for criticism or coldness. He never had anything else to offer. She'd tried in so many ways over so many years to find a way to connect with him, but nothing had ever worked. If anything, their relationship had gone in the opposite direction of love. Now, it felt a lot closer to hate.

"This must be a cold day in hell," he drawled. "Isn't that when you said you'd be back to Georgia?"

She hated the fact that in spite of her three-inch heels, her dad still towered over her like the giant he'd always been in her head and in her life.

"It feels like a day in hell with Paul gone. Abby is my friend. I came to support her."

Her father didn't comment as he flipped some imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve of his uniform. His medals had once made her the proudest girl on earth. Later, they'd just been a reminder of the life he'd chosen to live far away from her, even when they'd only been miles apart.

"I'm going to talk to Abby," she said when he remained silent.

"Wait."

His sharp command gave her pause. "Why? Do you have something to say to me? Because I'm not really interested in this awkward moment we're having."