* * *
The San Diego Memorial Dayceremony was held at Fort Rosecrans. As always, the political mixed with the true mission of remembering those who gave their all. Beneath his sunglasses, Troy scanned the area. Part of him wondered if the crowd understood what Memorial Day was and how the tradition started.
Another part of him watched Gwen. Stubborn, she balanced on crutches. He knew if trouble occurred, those crutches would lay on the ground. He also worried the mystery caller may go after her.
A state senator stood tall and proud at a podium. “Let’s take a moment to reflect on the many heroes who have lost their lives for this nation.” Then came the obligatory pat on the live hero’s back. He asked men and women, by branch, to stand if they had lost someone.
Troy gritted his teeth and stood as they announced the Navy. When he closed his eyes, he could see every man and woman he knew who died in combat—or, some so distraught, at their own hand.
Finally, a retired Navy Admiral took to the podium. He spoke about how Memorial, or as his father called it, Decoration Day, was celebrated in his home. His tone and reverence for the day demanded the crowd’s attention. The only sound was an occasional bird song.
He read the military order crafted by General John Logan, Commander and Chief during the Civil War, naming May 30, 1868, Decoration Day.A day chosen because on that day there was no history of a battle. A day for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land…
The crowd stood and saluted, or placed a palm over their heart, as a lone bugler played “Taps.”
At the end of the ceremony, Troy tilted his head back and let the sun warm his face. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, a cold stare took over his expression. “Bremen.”
He listened and then: “Listen to me, you shit bird. Tell me who you are!” As Troy spoke, he signed against Julian’s side. CALLING FROM HERE. SEES US.
“Merde.” Julian scanned around them for anyone using a phone.
Gwen tapped her comm. “3-Sierra, 3-Romeo, Cat’s Meow and Grumpy Pants are compromised. Active threat. Move calmly to exit. Cat’s Meow is engaging an unknown subject.”
Troy concentrated on what his unknown caller was saying. It did not go unnoticed that Gwen’s crutches stayed resting against her chair. He felt the palm of her hand in the center of his back above the belt line. Four of his detail boxed them in as they moved with the crowd toward the parking lot.
“It would be easier if you told me what you want,” Troy softened his tone and calmly told his caller.
“You to find out what she did. She’s a liability.” The caller hung up.
Troy and Julian sat in the second seat as the head of 3-Sierra’s Bravo squad drove them home. Troy tapped Julian with his finger and signed,NOT THE SAME CALLER. THREAT TO GWEN.
The look on Julian’s face told Troy the message was received.
Gwen rode shotgun, calling out every quarter click along the route. Troy heard her exhale as the front gate to Julian’s closed behind them.
Chapter 5
After changing his clothing, Troy stepped into the backyard at Julian’s. Tables and chairs were set up throughout. A familiar face walked toward him.
“Hey, Boss, you’re looking good.” Trask Winslow offered his hand, but then pulled Troy into a one-armed hug.
“Headcap, you’re getting a dad bod,” Troy teased the former Bravo Team member, a current first deputy and father of six, dressed in shorts with pineapples on them and a green polo shirt. “How’s the executive life treating you?”
“It’s different. My wife and kids are happy,” he said reticently.
“What’s wrong?” Troy pointed to the seat beside him.
Trask looked across the yard. “I love the job. It’s the current caseload.”
“Number of cases? Or type of cases?” Troy zeroed in.
Trask faced his boss. “We’re supposed to be enjoying the day.”
Troy crossed his arms over his chest.
“Type. They’ve become personal. I do the intake, and I wanna cry. Julian says you’re the best in the company at talking with victims.” Trask paled. “I’m sorry.”
Troy inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Let’s set the record straight. I do not want you to censor what you say to me for fear of upsetting me. Clear?”
