I LET THE SILENCE hang between us for a few moments.
I can see how destroyed she is. How much she wants me to leave. But I think she knows I’m not going anywhere.
I fold my hands and wait.
She’ll talk when she’s ready.
Finally, Lisa Phillips shifts forward on the sofa. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her mascara. When she starts speaking again, her voice is quiet, but firm.
“Aiden is a patriot, a good soldier, a good husband, a great dad. He did his duty. Multiple deployments. But when he came back, he would never talk about it. He said what he did over there was better left alone.”
“I understand. Sometimes that’s the best way to handle it.”
“Were you there too?” asks Lisa.
I nod. “Same place. Different time.”
She sighs. “The kids just loved having him home. They were so proud of him. When they jumped all over him and hugged him, it was like this hard armor shell he had just faded away. But there were problems underneath that shell.”
“What kind of problems?”
“I noticed small stuff at first. His having three beers with dinner instead of one. Nightmares that made his arms and legs shake. Small annoyances got outsize responses. Like if we were stuck in traffic, he’d get jumpy and angry. But we worked through it.”
“You and Aiden are separated now, is that right?”
“His idea, not mine,” says Lisa.
“Something must have happened to get you to that point.”
“He was here at home when Afghanistan fell. After that, things just started cracking. He let his hair grow. His drinking got worse. He spent a lot of time watching cable news and just mumbling at the screen. ‘A waste,’ he kept saying. ‘A goddamn waste. All those friends of mine, killed and crippled—for nothing.’”
“A lot of us felt that way. What happened next? Did things get worse?”
Lisa nods. “His dreams became more violent. Lots of yelling and flailing around. Aiden knew he was starting to scare me and the kids, so he checked himself into the VA hospital here in Richmond. He promised he’d come back better than before, but—”
She’s interrupted by the thump of footsteps on stairs. I look over. It’s Mary and her little brother peeking through the banister halfway down the staircase.
“Upstairs!” Lisa shouts. “Both of you!”
The kids retreat with startled expressions.
Lisa lowers her voice and leans closer: “One day he checked himself out of the facility against medical advice, and that was it.We haven’t seen him since. I’ve gotten a few phone calls from him, but he never says where he is. When I call back, the call never goes through.” She dissolves into sobs again.
I grab a box of tissues from the coffee table and hand it to her. “Ma’am, if you have any idea where your husband is, it might save a lot of lives. It might save his.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t. I would tell you if I did, honest, but I have no idea.”
I believe her.
“I gave my husband to the army, and they sent me back a haunted, broken man,” she says sourly. “How is that fair? Tell me!”
“I can’t. Because it’snotfair. It’s a goddamn disgrace.”
CHAPTER 55
NOT LONG AFTER LEAVING Lisa Phillips, I’m in the parking lot of the sprawling VA hospital on Broad Rock Boulevard in Richmond. The main brick building of the hospital campus is directly in front of me.
I’m close enough to get a good look at the entrance. I watch patients come and go, some in wheelchairs or hobbling on crutches. Visitors walk in with flowers or balloons. Medical workers pass one another on their way in and out. Some are in a rush. Others stop and chat under the entrance canopy.
