A Ghost of Justice Read Online Free PDF Page B

Rose and I never talked about it much.  And we wouldn't in front of you and Steve.  It was my decision, really."
    "Why?"
    "Because…It's not a good thing to remember."
    "But you do."
    "Every day.  As often as I remember your mother."  The light changed and he drove on.  "Emily, I had to kill some people back then, over there."
    "Oh."  Emily tried to let it seep in, but the contrast of her professor father with her father the killer wouldn't take hold.  She resorted to banality.  "But it was a war, Dad."
    "Yes, yes, of course," he retorted heatedly.  "It was a war , as if that one word makes sufficient excuse.  That's what my father told me: 'It's okay, son.  I killed a whole lot of 'em in the Tet.'  But, Em, we weren't always killing men in uniform.  And not always men .  Not always women, either."
    Emily was almost certain she didn't want to hear any more.  And her heart was rocking in her chest.  She could feel her eyes stretched open wide and how fast she was breathing.  But now it was started, he kept talking.
    "Plenty of it was legitimate defensive or offensive firing at real military targets."  His voice took on a harsh huskiness.  "Not all, though."
    The stream of talking seemed to end there.  For a long time he simply drove.  Drove past the shopping centers, through the neighborhoods and a school.  Out past the Orthodox Church.  Silent.
    Then he said, "But I guess there's some reason I should share it with you now.  I hope they outweigh the very good ones I had for not doing so."
    Now truly fearful of what he might be about to tell her, Emily still wanted to know.  "Okay," she said.
    He slowed and pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned medical office.  With a ratcheting sound, he set the brake.  Without facing her, he resumed the revelation.  Or was it a confession?  She would never be sure.
    He came up with an emotional time bomb.
    Voice still husky, but also squeezed tight, he said, "Em… I…had to kill a child."
    A gasp, tiny but obvious, escaped her before she could stop it.
    He looked at her then.  She would never forget the anguish and fear in his face.  Or the deepest remorse she would ever see.  Against her inner voice, she said,  "Tell me."
    "No.  I can't."
    Too late now, she told herself.  Finish what you started .  "Go on, Dad."  Emily took a shaky breath.  "I think you need to."
    He whipped his head around to stare out the windshield.  "Yeah.  That's what the VA said.  Well, I told it to them , but it didn't help much.  That's why I take Holistahlt.  Started on Zoloft, but it barely helped me keep things in check."  A pause, then quickly he added, "Never mind all that.  If you want to know the damned story so much, I'll tell you.  My section leader, an E4 - I was an E3 - told me to take this poor kid out.  Before you start to think my sergeant was a murderous SOB just wanting me to be his triggerman, it was the right thing to do."
    "Why?  How, if it still gives you this much anguish?"
    He chanced a glance at her, but diverted back to the front.  "The bastards had put a vest on the kid."  Eric looked out his side window for a long moment.  Once he rubbed his face.  Then he spoke.  Forcing the words out fast, he said, "It was a sui-bomber's vest.  They wanted to blow us up, with the kid delivering the bomb.  I already had my weapon trained in his direction.  The sarge saw it all right away.  He was real quick.  Saved us all a hundred times.  He just said, 'Sheaf, take the kid out now.'"
    He stopped sudden, the deep frown fixed on his face.  A shaky breath, then another.  He went to staring out over the steering wheel with unfocused eyes.  Finally he finished, blurting out a phrase at a time, little pauses between.  "And I did.  I aimed… closed my eyes…tapped off three rounds.  And the kid…blew up."
    Now he gave in.  Emily sidled over, accepted sitting on the hard, uneven projections of the center console and wrapped an arm around