Boston to Birmingham Ch. 04

It was even more uncomfortable on base. She had never seen so many uniforms in one place. Even though the dress she wore was conservative, just below the knees with a high neckline, her beauty was obvious, and there was an ocean of admirers around. She was very glad the building was easy to find.

Major Stein met her in the lobby and escorted her into his office.

"Don't worry, we won't be disturbed. Can I offer you something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I don't think a lot of liquids would help me with my nervousness."

He rushed to reassure her.

"Please, this is just an informal talk between two people concerned with the welfare of your husband. How is he? Do you speak often?"

"She laughed.

"No, in fact, I had to drag him into court to get him to speak to me at all. We are starting marriage counseling, I had to get a friendly judge to facilitate that, so I'm hoping for the best. Perhaps you could tell me, how is he mentally? That is what you do, right, deal with veterans with mental issues?"

Instead of answering directly, he surprised he by asking, "Tell me Mrs. Wilkes, has your husband been into any altercations lately? Physically, I mean."

He fought with a cousin a while back, beat him pretty badly from what I hear. It was a family issue."

"Did it have anything to do with you?"

"Yes, his cousin and another man threatened me. The one he beat was physical with me, not sexually, just grabbed me."

"Anything else?"

"Not that I know of." Luckily for Hardy, J.T. never told her about the fight in the cell.

"Mrs. Wilkes, please understand that what you tell me is covered under patient client confidentiality. Would you describe the events leading to your separation? Please don't leave anything out, it might be important."

Gwen shamefully told her story yet again.

"Tell me, before the incident,was he abusive to you in any way, physically speaking?"

"No! In fact, I once almost stepped into the path of a car, and Hardy pulled me back so hard I had bruises on my arm. He apologized for three weeks.

Until that morning, almost three years together including the courtship, he hardly even raised his voice to me. Of course, any couple has arguments, but he was always so calm, so reasonable. It was like he was a totally different person that morning."

"How much do you know about his military experience?"

"He told me he did two tours in Iraq, including the invasion. I know he was wounded, I've seen the scars, but he doesn't talk about it."

"Mrs. Wilkes, much of what he did is classified, so I can't go into details. Your husband has a very specialized skill set, and he was very good at what he did. He could have been an officer, his rapid assessment of troops, terrain, and objectives was amazingly perceptive. His flaw was he didn't work well with others. Many were actually afraid of him or afraid he would get them killed. Once he focuses on an objective the only way to stop him was to kill him."

"We did many, many tests on your husband, physically and mentally. We exposed him to different stress levels and measured his responses. Your husband is a very unique individual."

"Are you familiar with the term 'flight or fight'

Mrs. Wilkes? Good. In a flight or fight situation the individual person feels threatened, and adrenalin is released into the blood stream, speeding up the decision to fight or run, and giving the body a boost of energy."

"Your husband Mrs. Wilkes, has adrenal glands that are capable of releasing six to ten times the normal amount of adrenalin into the body.

It's very, very rare, research has found it to be most evident among Scandinavians and people of the Southern U.S. No one is exactly sure why. It may be why you hear stories about Viking berserkers of legend and rowdy rednecks. The closest analogy I can give you is it's like people who overdose on crystal meth. I've seen cases where the individuals struggle so hard after being strapped down to a bed they break their bones, and don't even realize it, not feeling the pain."

"It's has a nickname among the medical community, Hulk syndrome, for the comic book character who changes from an ordinary man to a raging beast because of anger. That pretty much describes your husband. He was fine, in control, for years. Your infidelity triggered the resurgence. Do you know I have him on medication to curb the release of adrenalin? He hates it, but takes it anyway."

He paused, letting her digest the information. She took the opportunity to ask a question.

"Sir, why is the military involved? Charges were never pressed, the whole thing was kept out of the public eye."

He tried to sound reassuring.

"We're the military, Mrs. Wilkes, we have our ways. Our concern is making sure your husband is all right, not a danger to himself or others."

"You consider him a danger to society?"

"Not really, if he keeps taking the medication and stays out of stressful situations."

"You think he can do that? Life by its' very definition is stressful."

"I think if he continues to see me for awhile, and you work out your marital issues, he'll be all right. Bill Goldberg is a fine man and a skilled therapist. More important, he's worked with Hardy before and he trusts his opinions. I wish you the best. He really loves you, you know that, don't you? If anyone in this universe could keep him centered, it would be you. All you have to do is get him to trust you again."

"By the way, do you know why your husband is in Mexico?"

"I didn't know he was out of the country, we don't exactly share details of our lives right now."

They talked for another hour, him asking questions, her countering with questions of her own.

He told her about his rescue of the troops pinned down in that small valley, leaving nothing out. To her shame, she had no idea he had three purple hearts, several letters of commendation, and a silver star with oak leaf clusters. Another important part of her husbands life she was excluded from.

................................................

Mentally exhausted, she returned to her hotel and took a nap. Rising, she dressed, wondering how to spend her night.

She took a walk by the ocean, something else she hadn't been near in a year. The waves were calming.

Paula Deens' restaurant, Lady and Sons, was nice, the food good, but she found herself comparing it to what she had at the Sunday dinners at home, and decided homemade was definitely better. Food prepared by strangers, no matter how tasty or well presented, couldn't compare something made with love, to be eaten by relatives, people you'll see everyday. It tended to make one try harder.

Back at the hotel, she decided to have one drink at the bar. She hadn't touched alcohol except for an occasional beer she drank with Joshua, the episode with the ginger fizz still fresh in her mind.

They had a band, they were just starting. She sat and listened to a couple of songs, tapping a foot absently. The place was packed. Hunter Air field was just outside of town, and Ft. Stewart was just over an hour away, and apparently Savannah was the largest city around. Gwen had them around her three deep, asking her to dance and buy her drinks. She shook her head no until her neck was sore, trying to leave.

The boys parted like the sea for Moses when a short woman with red hair moved to the bar beside her. She nodded to Gwen while she waited for her drink.

"It's mean of you, you know." She said out of the blue.

"What?"

"Coming in here, looking like that, and shooting the boys down. A lot of them are far from home, lonely, and let's face it, they're all young guys, hornier than hell. You're fresh meat, and shooting them down is like waving a steak in front of a starving dog a foot past the end of their chain."

Gwen was uncomfortable.

"I just wanted a drink, then back to my room for bed."

"Got a man up there waiting for you?"

"No, I'm in town on business. I'll be gone tomorrow."

"Then why not stay awhile, dance a time or two, give the boys something new to fantasize about?

It'll be fun."

"That's what I'm afraid of. I've found I make poor decisions while trying to have fun. I'm fighting to keep my husband now because of that.

We're finally close to talking again, I'm not about to screw that up."

"Do people here know your husband?"

"Some do. Like I said, my days of screwing up my life are over. I have too much to lose."

The woman held out her hand.

"I'm Anne."

She shook the hand offered.

"Gwen."

"Well Gwen, nice to meet you. Sure you can't stay a bit? I could use a wingman."

The band was about to start another set, and a tall young man, obviously military, came up to Anne, asking for a dance.

"Sorry, soldier, not this one. But my friend Gwen might. Forewarned, she's married and intends to stay that way, so anything funny and she's gone.

Understand me?"

The last phrase was said with such authority that the man almost stood at attention by reflex.

"Understood, Ma'am."

"Good."

She turned to Gwen.

"I'll get us a table and watch your purse. Go. Dance. He'll behave, I guarantee you."

So she danced, and enjoyed it. By the time she got to the table Anne had found they were crowded around. She handed Gwen her purse.

"My turn."

Gwen watched her dance, amazed at how graceful she was. Drinks were bought, but after they saw she wasn't drinking they stopped wasting their money.

When she came back, she took their purses and had the bartender put them behind the bar. Gwen looked at her funny.

"Thieves cluster round military towns like vultures over a carcass. Now, we can both dance without worry."

So they did. Gwen only danced two slow dances, one with a boy who didn't look out of his teens, because she thought he would be safe. It felt like she was dancing with an octopus, his hands were everywhere. She finally broke his grasp and went back to her table. He never asked her to dance again.

The other dance was with a man easily in his fifties, another traveler no doubt, and he was almost formal in the way he held her, and was a very good dancer. He had on a band, and she had never removed her rings, vowing not to until the divorce was final, so she felt safe. She kissed his cheek and thanked him, he flushed but smiled and squeezed her hand.

She ended up dancing the night away. The sheer physical release was welcome. Before she knew it, the night was over. The band had stopped, and everyone was enjoying the last drink of the evening. Anne was watching her closely, it was like she had a personal mission to assure her safety.

Gwen had finally given in and had a few more drinks. They boys hadn't stopped buying, hoping to loosen her up, but they mostly sat on the table untouched. Now that the night was over and she was going straight up to her room, she downed a few more, becoming more than a littler buzzed.

When she stood and wobbled, Anne quickly stabilized her.

"Come on sweetheart, let's get you to your room."

It seemed like a good idea, so she left her arm around her waist and fished the room card out of her purse. Anne pulled her along to the elevators.

The ride was silent, and Anne noticed tears welling up.

"What's wrong, Gwen?"

"I miss my husband, damn it! He should be helping me, not you. We used to go out like this, I always ended up horny as hell, and he would take care of me, real good care. Now I'm horny, alone, and frustrated. I need to tell you, I don't think I'll ever get him back."

She was sobbing, hugging Anne like a drowning person holds onto a life preserver. She patted her back, rubbed her shoulders. It was all the comfort she could give her.

Anne had more than a few herself, so they staggered down the hall using each other for support. She dropped the key card twice, and they, practically fell through the door when it opened. giggling like little girls.

Gwen looked ay the minibar.

"Want a night cap?"

Anne grinned, "one more couldn't hurt, could it?"

One more didn't hurt, but six did. By then Anne knew she was in no shape to drive, and Gwen was practically passed out. Anne helped her to the bathroom, undressed her, and put her to bed.

She stood back, admiring her beauty. Bisexual for fifteen years, she preferred men, but occasionally, under the right circumstances, a womans' touch appealed to her.

Slowly, she undressed. Planning to use the other bed, she changed her mind. She wasn't going to try anything while she was passed out, but if they woke up in bed together, who knows? She did say it had been awhile. And a warm attractive body to sleep next to was far more appealing than sleeping alone.

She pulled the covers back and Gwens' purse fell to the floor, spilling. She picked it up, gathering the spilled items. Her wallet had flopped open, and when she picked it up she got one of the biggest shocks of her life. A picture of Gwen and a man, obviously her husband.

Something looked familiar about the man, so she held the picture up to a lamp. Mentally lengthening his hair and giving him a beard, she knew exactly who he was.

Hardy Wilkes!

This must be the infamous wife sleeping in the bed. Anne was glad to her soul she hadn't tried anything, it could have gotten very messy.

Still, she was lonely, Gwen was available, and it would be good to at least sleep together. She gently eased into the bed, and Gwen immediately spooned up to her. Anne went to sleep with her arms around her.

She awoke sometime in the night to found they had turned over, and now she was spooned to Gwen, who had her hands wrapped around her breasts. She reveled in the feeling, fighting temptation before falling asleep again.

.................................................

The scream woke Anne. She found Gwen sitting up, clutching the covers to her chest.

"WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!"

Anne was about to tell her, but thought she would have a little fun first.

"You don't remember? God, you were amazing! The best I've ever had. Baby, your tongue should be gilded. sonnets published about it, songs written.

And you just went on and on and on, where did you get the energy? I know we just met, but is it too soon to talk about love?"

Gwen screamed again and ran to the bathroom. Anne gave her a minute and went in, she was sitting on the toilet crying.

"Gwen, Gwen, nothing happened. I was just having a little fun. You were drunk, I was drunk, and I didn't want to sleep alone. You hear me? Nothing happened."

"But, but, but, when I woke up you were spooned against me, rubbing my nipples."

"We were in bed together, honey. People tend to spoon. As far as rubbing you, you know by now I was asleep. It didn't mean anything."

She stuck her tongue out at her.

"That is, unless you want it to. I'm bi, and I've got a pretty good tongue myself. You'd have fun, I promise."

Gwen tried to shove her out of the bathroom but Anne wouldn't let her.

"Gwen, stop! I'm just teasing you. Gee, being hungover is affecting your sense of humor. Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen. Calm down."

"Now, do you want to shower first, or shall we do it together?"

Gwen slammed the door to Anne laughing.

Showered and dressed, she felt a bit better.

Anne showered, and they talked afterward. Sober, she found Anne to be witty, intelligent, and grounded.

"Are you really bi?" She couldn't help but ask.

"Yes, does that bother you?"

"Not really. I'm probably never going to see you again, so would you satisfy my curiousity? What's it like, with another woman?"

"I can't describe it, honey. It would be like explaining what an orange tastes like to a person that's only eaten apples. I can tell you it tends to be gentler and more emotional, at least in my case."

She had an evil glint in her eye.

"I could just show you, you know."

Her answer astounded her.

"I've often thought about it. I had a friend in college who chased me relentlessly. I almost gave in a couple of times. If I was single I believe I would take you up on your offer, but I still want my husband back. Tell you what though, if it doesn't happen with my husband, give me your card, maybe I'll call you."

She quickly gave her a card. Gwen glanced at it.

Captain Anne Burnside, U.S. Army.

"You're a soldier?"

"Yep, career, been in twelve years."

"What do you do?"

"Intelligence, and that's all I can tell you."

It was too late for breakfast, but Anne knew a small place that served brunch. Things were going fine until Anne ordered a mimosa. She saw her face.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just have bad memories associated with that drink. Please, though, enjoy."

Anne insisted on seeing her off. At the airport she held out her hand.

"Thanks, Gwen, It's been an adventure. Hope your life works out."

Gwen astounded everyone in the waiting area by gathering the smaller woman into her arms and giving her a smouldering kiss. She let her go and stepped back.

"There, that should fuel a few fantasies. I'll never forget you. I hope when you settle down, whoever he or she is, that they appreciate you.

And who knows? If I don't get my husband back, I've got your number. Bye."

She walked off laughing.

"Damn" Anne thought, "If anybody could handle Hardy, it's her."

.................................................

The Escobar case was getting close, and Don Vincente was starting to get worried. His indirect attempts at pressuring the D. A. and the police were getting him nowhere. The same with bribery. It was time to up the ante.

His first thought was the arresting officer, but the guy was a veteran, had no close family, and was a hard nosed son of a bitch. Every time he made contact the cop reported it to the D.E.A. who wanted to take over jurisdiction.

His next step was the D.A. and his employees.

Direct pressure wasn't working, it was time to get devious.

His first attempt failed miserably and landed two of his people in jail. He knew of Gwen's past experience with cocaine, and was going to exploit it. He intended to plant felony amounts in her car, and leave an anonymous tip. That would get her removed from the case at the very least, buying time.

His people monitored her movements. She was fairly predictable, boring really. The only time she was away from home was the weekends she spent with her husbands' grandfather, and that was only over night. Her complex had security cameras, but he had the technology available to overcome it.

To lessen risk, it was decided to plant it in her car. They chose a night that was overcast and stormy, keeping people indoors. They easily opened her trunk and put a baggy with twelve ounces of cocaine underneath the spare tire. The baggie had her fingerprints on it, stolen from her trash.

What he didn't know was his people weren't the only ones watching Gwen.

Hardy had recruited eight men, six of them cousins, to keep an eye on her. The leader and all but two of the others were ex military from a variety of fields. Four had their own vehicles, and he bought six more and titled them to the crew, theirs to keep as a bonus. The only thing they had in common were powerful engines. Two people, in separate cars, watched over her twenty four hours a day. They were pretty good at their jobs, and no one noticed them. They on the other hand, noticed everyone, even filming persons they deemed interesting.

Thus they were there the night the two men rummaged through her garbage, taking the baggie with her fingerprints, and there the night when they planted the cocaine. One was local, the other Hispanic. Waiting until they left, they carefully opened the trunk and retrieved the baggie. They then divided the contents into two separate baggies, put one in the car of the local, the other in the car of the visitor.

Don Vincente wanted a lot of publicity, so he tipped off the local TV stations that a prominent public official was about to be arrested. Deciding to treat himself, he was watching from a limo the next morning when Gwen arrived at work.