Free Officer Jones by Derek Ciccone Page B

she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “And I’m so sorry about Byron.”
    I was not in the mood to relive the capture, so I deflected, “Why—were you scared you’d have to go back to the dorms?”
    “The thought crossed my mind,” she said with a wise-ass smile. It signaled a return to normalcy between us, now that the mushy stuff was over.
    “How’d summer school go?” I asked
    “All A’s.”
    “How’s your friend—Dimwit or something like that?”
    “It’s Daman, and I haven’t heard from him in months. Funny how he became less interested in me after your friend tried to execute him. And once word got around, let’s just say the boys haven’t exactly been knocking down my door.”
    “And they say capital punishment isn’t a deterrent.”
    “Very funny. Thank goodness those terrorists left your cranky personality intact.”
    I let it go as I hobbled to the Humvee, which seemed to surprise her.
     
    My directions took us to Main Street. On one side of the road was the high school I graduated from, and where my brother Ethan was currently a history teacher and football coach. It’s located next to a campus made up of the town hall, volunteer fire department, police station, and library.
    Notables on the south side of the road were the bowling alley, Main Street Tavern, and the Rockfield Village Store. I focused on a weathered colonial that housed both a realtor and the local newspaper called the Rockfield Gazette . My teacher and mentor Murray Brown created the newspaper—the one I always dreamed of buying with Gwen if Murray ever decided to hang up the typewriter. But that was before life called, and for better or worse, I answered.
    When we passed the high school, Christina noticed the name on the football field. “JP Warner Field? Wow, I’m impressed—did you get to come back like some conquering hero to christen the field?”
    “I think they christen ships, not football fields. But no, I’ve never been there. I was supposed to attend the dedication, but got called to Kosovo at the last moment. My brothers Ethan and Noah stepped in for me.”
    Christina thought for a moment. “Noah’s the cute one, right?”
    “They say he looks like me.”
    “In your dreams, old man. Is he single?”
    “No,” I replied. He might technically have been, but I knew Noah was still emotionally attached to Lisa. He wasn’t available.
    “When was the last time you were here?” she asked.
    I thought hard for a moment. “Three years ago on Christmas. Opened my gifts in the morning and was on a plane to Haiti at noon.”
    “You haven’t seen your family in three years!?”
    “I’ve seen them,” I defended. “My parents come down to the city for dinner all the time. And every year I fly the whole family somewhere for a week’s vacation during the summer. Last year it was France. Unfortunately, this year I was a little tied up.”
    “Sounds like an expensive guilt trip.”
    I scrunched my face, digesting her words.
    “So did they throw their sugar-daddy a big party when he came home after fighting off the bad guys in Serbia?” Christina asked, before honking at a slow driving elderly couple in front of us.
    Thoughts of Ethan and my mother entered my mind. “No, actually they didn’t.”
    “They probably just want to avoid all the cameras and microphones.”
    “Maybe,” I said, but I knew it ran much deeper. It was time to change the subject. “Turn here!”
     
     

     

Chapter 20
     
    Christina jerked the steering wheel to the right and swung the Humvee into the small parking lot of the Rockfield Village Store, almost tipping it over in the process.
    “What’s this place?” she asked after we skidded to a stop.
    “Rumor has it that an old friend of mine works here.”
    I felt a sharp pain down my leg as I struggled to get out of the vehicle. I stubbornly tried to walk without the cane, but it was a failed experiment. I slowly made it to the front of the store and entered through the