Deadly Straits (A Tom Dugan Novel) by R.E. McDermott

Ginny’s sister.” Dugan paused. “That’s when I found out.
    “We had a renovated apartment, hardwood floors and rugs everywhere, all sizes. Ginny loved the damned things. She slipped on one and smashed her head on the coffee table. When she didn’t show up and her sister couldn’t reach her, she called the police. They found Ginny.
    “Ginny wasn’t great with administrative details. Her sister was still listed as next of kin, and she didn’t know how to reach me or when I’d return. After the autopsy, she went ahead with the funeral. Ginny was buried the day before I arrived. I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”
    Anna squeezed his hand and nodded, not trusting herself to speak, as Dugan went on.
    “I know now her sister did the best she could, but I wasn’t rational. I said terrible things to her. I apologized later, but scars remain. I don’t hear from her.”
    “Oh Tom, I’m—”
    He ignored her, as if having started, he couldn’t stop.
    “My shipmates found me crying on the dock. The first thing I remember is my sister, Katy, packing up my stuff. She took me home and moved in and commuted to school. I drank. She tried to help, but she was a college kid with no idea how to handle a morose, nutty drunk. I got it in my head Ginny was murdered. I needed a target for my hate, I guess. I went down and demanded a copy of the autopsy report.”
    Dugan took a ragged breath as a tear leaked from his eye. “It took a bottle of Wild Turkey to get through it, but I found Ginny’s surprise. She was pregnant.”
    “Oh God. Tom, I’m so sorry.”
    “I was in a drunken rage, still convinced someone had killed her. I read it all again and again—date, time, and cause of death—until I understood. Until I found the bastard.” He turned, his anguish unbearable, as he revealed a dark secret he’d shared with no one, not even Alex, in twenty years.
    “It was me,” he whispered. “I killed them.”
    Anna sat entranced as it poured out. His realization that Ginny died near the time of their last call. His image of Ginny irritated at the disconnection. Of an impatient wait for a callback and a slip on the rug as she rushed to answer.
    “If I hadn’t kept trying,” he said, “Ginny and our baby would be alive.”
    Anna sat, unsure how to respond, but knowing grief, survivor’s guilt, and failure to share these terrible thoughts had solidified this horrible notion. No words could heal this. She hugged him awkwardly as he hid his face in her shoulder, ashamed of his horrible secret.
    After a while, he lifted his head. “Sorry,” he said with an embarrassed smile.
    She kissed him tenderly, and he tensed. She stood and tugged him to his feet.
    “Anna, wait.”
    She placed a finger on his lips and pulled him toward the bedroom. Sex was slow and tender as they explored each other with the wonder of new lovers, mingled with an inexplicable familiarity. Afterward, Anna lay in the crook of his arm as she toyed with his chest hair.
    “A penny for your thoughts?”
    “I’m wondering why women always ask that after sex.”
    He jumped as she jerked his chest hair. “Ouch. That hurt, damn it.”
    “Serves you right for spoiling the moment.”
    Dugan hugged her close. “Lady, it would take a lot more than that to spoil this moment.”
    They lapsed into silence, each thinking their own thoughts.
    “Ah… actually,” Dugan said, “I may spoil it. What about Mr. Walsh?”
    “Who?” She raised her head, confused.
    “You know. Your husband.”
    Anna began to laugh. “My God, Dugan. You are a bloody Boy Scout, aren’t you? Ex-husband, Tom. I’m long since divorced.”
    “But you said—”
    “Cast as a slut,” she said, “I needed to discourage you. Actually, I was pleasantly surprised I wasn’t forced to use a knee to the groin.”
    “So what happened?” Dugan asked.
    “Not much to tell. We met in school, both studying forensic accounting. You know, finding people ‘cooking the books’ as you Yanks