person to come to mind was Paul’s commanding officer: Lieutenant Colonel Dennis Milford. Paul didn’t have any family to speak of. His parents had divorced when he was young and Paul had seen his father only twice in his entire life. His mother had died young, when Paul was in his twenties. Paul’s father lived in Australia and they had never been close. As a result, Paul had looked up to his commanding officer as both mentor and friend. The lieutenant colonel might be able to answer my questions. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to ask.
“Why didn’t I think of that sooner?” I said aloud, although I didn’t expect a response.
“Love does that to us,” Emily told me in soft tones. “It clouds our thoughts, messes with our heads, makes us think and do irrational things.”
It sounded as if she was speaking from personal experience.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She shrugged as if it was nothing. “Don’t mention it.”
—
I waited until the next morning after my guests had left and I had stripped the beds. Emily was busy weeding my vegetable garden. I’d planted a much smaller garden this year, seeing that Mark hadn’t been around to prepare the land and help with the upkeep.
While Emily was busy in the garden, I retreated into my office and closed the door.
Lieutenant Colonel Milford had given me his number and urged me to call with any questions or needs. I knew he felt a personal loss with Paul’s death. He’d grieved with me. It went without saying that if I wanted or needed information, he would do whatever he could to help. I counted on that connection.
I dialed the number he gave me and was put through without a problem.
“Jo Marie,” he greeted me from the other end of the line. “What can I do for you?”
He, too, got right to the heart of the matter.
“I need information.”
“About?”
“A friend. A former army officer who is currently a civilian.”
“Is someone pestering you?” he asked, his voice sharpening. He remembered that shortly after I purchased the inn a soldier who identified himself as a good friend of Paul’s had come to me, looking for a substantial loan. Milford had been angry when I’d relayed the event. I remembered that Mark was the one who’d sent the gold digger on his way in quick order, although I’d never learned how or why he’d showed up when he did.
“No, it’s nothing like that. This is about Mark Taylor. Actually, his first name is Jeremy…he goes by Mark now. It was his father’s name.”
“Army?”
“Yes.”
The line went quiet and I could hear the lieutenant colonel’s fingers punching the computer keys.
“What else can you tell me? Do you know his birth date, Social Security number?”
I had his birth date, but that was it. “Mark…Jeremy, was intelligence, did two tours in Iraq. Father and grandfather were both career military.” I gave him everything I could remember. I actually didn’t know much. Mark had shared very little of himself or his past with me until just before he left.
“Anything else?”
“He worked with an informant in Iraq with the first name of Ibrahim.”
More typing and then silence.
“Mark returned to Iraq about a year ago,” I added, wanting to fill the silence. “His unit left abruptly and he never felt right leaving Ibrahim and his family behind. He feared what would happen to Ibrahim after the army pulled out.”
“You’ve heard from your friend since he was in Iraq?”
“Twice.”
More silence.
“Did you find something?” I asked, anxious for anything he could tell me.
Silence.
“What is it?” I tried again, certain now he had information.
“Nothing I can tell you.” The words were clipped. Abrupt.
“Can’t or won’t?” I asked.
“Can’t. All information regarding him is classified.”
So Emily looked to be right. How much the government knew about where Mark was and what he was doing remained unclear. My head reeled to have this confirmed.
“You can tell me nothing?” I know I sounded desperate, but I didn’t care. For my own sanity, I needed to know.
“It’s classified, Jo Marie,” he repeated.
“Okay,” I murmured, still taking all this into my muddled brain.
“What do you know?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You said you’d heard from Jeremy…Mark twice. What did he say?”
I didn’t answer right away.
“Jo Marie,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “This is important.”
I debated with myself. If I had information he wanted, then I wasn’t going to give it up easily. Not without getting something in return. “No.”