Vineyard Stalker by Philip R. Craig

When they pulled us back for R & R he mostly lived in brothels. He was surly and had a bad mouth and just wanted to get back on duty so he could keep killing people. He was popular with the brass because he was so good at his work, but the grunts stayed away from him. I stuck with him, though.”
    â€œWhat happened to change him?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he just got tired. I know I did. In my case when I got tired I got careless and got myself shot.” His hand strayed to his massive chest. “Roland carried me out of there and saved my ass doing it. It took him two days and the Cong were looking for us all the way back. We’d hide and hear them going by, then move on and hide again. He got the Silver Star for that.
    â€œLater he came to see me in the hospital and told me things were fine, but his eyes were different. Something had changed in him. When he left he said good-bye instead of see ya, which was what he usually said when we went different directions.
    â€œNext time I saw him was years later right here on the island. He wasn’t the same person at all. There wasn’t any wildness in him. I kidded him about it. Told him he reminded me of a priest. He said he wasn’t any kind of priest and told me about going over the hill. A separate peace he called it. He’d given up booze and only drank tea. He only ate vegetables. Said he was going to build himself a house up there on land his aunt had bought, get himself a job of some kind, and try to live a quiet life.
    â€œAround here people treated him like a hero when he first got back, but he slipped away from them as quick as he could and built that little house of his. I go by sometimes and we talk. He may think I’m the only person who understands him because of what we did in ’Nam, but I don’t think I really do. What I do is listen and make small talk.”
    â€œThat’s probably quite a lot.”
    He shrugged. “After forty years, it may have added up. Did you know there’s a woman who’s been waving herself at him, and that he seems interested in her?”
    â€œMelissa Carson? I met her earlier today. She’s a case. She says he’s more interested in her than she is in him.”
    Mullins frowned. “Can’t say that sounds too good. She’s a looker, though. I’ve seen her.”
    â€œShe is that, all right.” I switched gears. “Over the years you’ve never heard Roland mention anyone who might have it in for him? Never heard of any enemies of any kind?”
    He shook his big, bald head. “Like I told you, forty years ago I could have named a few here on the island and over in ’Nam, too. But since he got back? No. Nobody. Although those neighbors and his cousin Sally Oliver would all be happy to see him sell out and move on.”
    â€œDoes anyone else know about his desertion?”
    â€œNobody that I know of. The only people who know are me and Carole Cohen and now you. Why?”
    â€œI thought there might be an angry vet out there who’d think he was fair game.”
    He considered that, then said, “I think a mad vet would probably just rat him out.”
    â€œOne may have decided that Roland might not give a damn if he was ratted out, and to try a little terrorism first.”
    He shrugged. “I go to the VFW every now and then. I’ve never heard anybody bad-mouth him. He never goes there, and half the gang doesn’t even remember him.”
    â€œAnd as far as you know he hasn’t left any angry women in his wake.”
    â€œYou mean that hell-hath-no-fury stuff? No, as far as I know, there haven’t been any women until this Melissa Carson.”
    â€œHow about the places he works? Any trouble with anyone there?”
    â€œNot that I’ve heard of. Maybe you should ask people who’ve worked with him. He’s been framing with Milt Jorgensen for a couple of years. Ask