“He didn't like to talk about his experiences over there.” She repeated what she'd told him during his first visit. “I always respected that. But then something strange happened. Several years ago, he brought home books about the war. Rumors Of War was one that I remember. He rented the movie Platoon, which he'd always insisted he wouldn't watch. He still didn't want to talk about the war, though. Not to me anyway.”

Billie sat back in the navy blue wicker rocker she'd chosen. She stared out at the ocean. Several gulls floated over the tall dunes. Picture pretty. Miles away, she could see the blurred outline of an ocean liner on the horizon.

"He always drank, but during those last years, he drank much more. Hard liquor, wine. He wasn't ever abusive, but I felt he was drifting farther and farther away.

"One night around dusk he took off down the beach with his fishing pole and a pail for anything he might catch. It was early September, and the bluefish were running. He could have caught them with his pail.

"I waited for him to come back, but he didn't. Finally, I went out looking for him. Most of these houses on the beach empty out after Labor Day. That's the way it is here. I walked south a mile or so. I was getting a little scared.

"I had brought a flashlight, and as I headed back, I turned it on and worked my way up closer to the dunes and the deserted beach houses. That was where I found him.

"Laurence was laying in the sand beside his fishing pole and the bait bucket. He'd finished off a pint of whiskey. Looked like a street bum who'd lost his way and wound up sleeping it off on the beach.

“I lay down beside him and held him in my arms. I asked him to please tell me why he was so sad. He couldn't. It broke my heart that he couldn't tell me. All he said was that ”you can't outrun your past“. It looks like he was right.”

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Seventy-Six

They talked about Vietnam, and her husband's Army experiences after the war, until Sampson was starting to get a headache. Billie never complained. Around four in the afternoon they took a break and watched the high tide coming in. It amazed Sampson that the long stretch of beach could be so empty on such a sunny and blue-skied day.

“Did you bring a suit? ”she asked, and smiled.

“Actually, I did throw a suit in the car,” Sampson said, and returned her smile.

“Want to take a swim?”

“Yeah. Be nice.”

They slipped into their suits and met back on the front porch. She had on a black one-piece. He figured she must do a lot of swimming, or maybe worked out. She was little, but she didn't look like a young girl. She was probably in her early forties.