CHAPTER NINE
Law hesitated. The manila envelope of paperwork Yardley had received was lying on the kitchen table of her cabin in front of him. Did he have the guts for the truth? Screw that! Scud was dead. He was a cripple. Nothing on paper could hurt more than those two realities. He tore open the envelope.
He devoured the pages with an intensity that didn’t allow for blinking. Every word seared his retinas, but he couldn’t stop or think or do anything except get to the end. When he did, his jaw was clenched so tightly his back teeth ached.
Suddenly he shot to his feet, flinging the paperwork across the table.
“The cowardly bastards!”
“I told you, you wouldn’t like it.”
Law looked over at Yardley. “My own unit shot my dog.” His voice was harsh, as if a hot wind had blown over his vocal cords, leaving them husk-dry. “The bastards killed Scud.”
Yardley watched him closely. “I was told Scud was shot because he wouldn’t let them near you. The men were worried that you’d bleed out before another handler could be summoned to help.”
“That can’t be right. Scud knew every man in my unit.”
“He was wounded, Law. You read the report. He might have been too traumatized to recognize them. His Alpha was down. He was scared and in protection mode.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Law, you need to let this go. It’s over.”
Law tried on her suggestion. Nothing he had read changed what he already knew. Only one new thing did register. Scud had died trying to protect him.
Sensing the heightened emotional outpouring from her handler, Sam came over and pushed her head in under his arm.
Law looked down, eyes narrowed. “Back off. Now.”
Sam’s gaze rose to his face. After a brief stare-off in which her brows twitched constantly she lay down on his feet, no longer attempting to comfort him but refusing to back off.
Yardley, too, took a cautious approach. “You’ve got that half-crazy-Cajun, half-inscrutable-Injun thing going on. You’re even scaring the dog.”
Law glared at her. She held up both hands. “I’m just saying.”
“I got nothing.” He waved at the paperwork for emphasis.
“Maybe that’s all there is. Some things don’t have an upside. We both know that.”
“There’s nothing else? What about the details of my wounding? There’s nothing here about that. I’ve always assumed we stepped on an IED. But it doesn’t say that here.”
Yardley didn’t quite meet his gaze. “I was told some papers went missing from the field report.”
Law knew that was code for cover-up. “So what? Was I hit by friendly fire?”
She shrugged. “Afghanistan was chaotic in those days. The surge was under way. Troops moving quickly from area to area. Shortly after your incident, your unit left the area. A paper trail didn’t seem as important as tracking the enemy.”
A muscle ticced in Law’s jaw. Yardley was trying to handle him. Soothe his irritation. Offer excuses. Which meant, she knew that whatever had really happened to him over there had been deliberately covered up. Nothing he could do now would change that. Except that Yardley was holding back. He could see it in the way she was sitting there a little too casual for the occasion.
He straightened up and lasered his focus on her. “Tell me.”
She hesitated, bringing her considerable determination to the sibling contest of wills. “Okay. I asked a few more questions. No one will officially verify anything I tell you. But there were originally eyewitness accounts. A couple of civvies found you first. American contractors.”
She pulled a sheet of paper from beneath a book on the table and unfolded it. “I couldn’t get verification on the particulars, but through another connection I got the names of the contractors working the area where you were wounded.” She ran through the list.
Law leaned forward to read over her shoulder. One name jumped out at him. “Tice Industries was in the neighborhood?”
“You know the name?”
Instead of answering, Law picked up and glanced again through the redacted paperwork he had scattered. There was nothing there about Tice Industries. Or why he was in that village on that particular day. But he had other, older memories to help him fill in some blanks.
Frowning, he looked up. “Tice is an Arkansas company. There’s a history. Been on law enforcement’s radar since before my time with the state police. But they have money and connections in all the right places. Nothing ever stuck.”
“What kind of nothing?”
“Why do you ask?”
Yardley shook her head.
Law was instantly alert. “What?”
This time she just stared at the carpet.