Wade paused. "28 years ago this winter. And I remember like it was last night." Ezra swallowed. "What did he say?"
"He said, 'Tell my sister.' 'Tell my sister I tried.'" Ezra closed his eyes. "Son, listen to me. Some of us remember and some of us don't. But the ones who don't, they aren't less brave. They aren't less Marine.
Their sacrifice isn't less. You hear me?" Ezra's shoulders were shaking. "You hear me, Corporal?" Ezra nodded.
He could not speak. "Breathe, son." "I can't." "You can. Breathe with me.
In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. That's it. That's the way."
Ezra breathed. In. Hold. Out. And in that booth by the window in a little diner in Iowa with a one-legged Marine crying quiet and an old biker holding his hand across the table, something began to change that neither of them could have put a name to.
Later, after Ezra had rolled home and Delia had gone back to work, Roz sat down across from Wade with two fresh cups of coffee. "Preacher." "Ma'am." "I want to tell you something, and I want you to listen and not interrupt. You promise?"
"I promise, Roz." Roz set her cup down, folded her hands. "Sean Brennan, Delia's father, he did not die of a heart attack. Wade was still. That is what the paper said.
That is what the death certificate says. That is what Delia believes. And for 5 years I have let her believe it because the truth is a thing I have been afraid to say out loud." "What happened to him, Roz?" "He was killed.
He was beaten to death in his own truck on a dirt road outside town. They found him the next morning, face down behind the wheel. Sheriff ruled it a heart attack cuz the sheriff at the time, it is the sheriff now, and because the man who killed Sean was the man who owns the sheriff." Wade's jaw set. "Donny Ray Brennan."
Roz's eyes widen. "You know that name?" "I heard it for the first time this morning. Delia came in shaking. She tried to hide it.
She couldn't. I asked Doc to do some asking around last night. He called me an hour ago." Roz nodded slow. "Then you know Donny Ray runs the meth through this part of the county.
You know he has his fingers in Deputy Weather's pocket up to the wrist. And you probably know that Sean Brennan before he died figured out something about Donny Ray that Donny Ray could not let live." "What did he figure out?" Roz looked around the diner. The last customer was at the counter paying his check.
She lowered her voice. "6 years ago there was a girl in Cedar Rapids, a working girl. She went missing. Her body was found in a ditch outside Asheville. Sheriff said it was an overdose.
Her mother said she had never used a drug in her life. The case was closed inside of 3 weeks. And Sean? Sean knew that girl. Sean had driven her home once.
Sean saw Donny Ray's truck at the place she was last seen alive. And Sean wrote it down. In a journal. With dates. With names.
With everything." Wade set his coffee down. "Where is that journal?" "In Delia's house. In Sean's old Bible in the top drawer of his dresser.
Delia has never opened it. She has never read it. She doesn't know it's there." Wade looked at her. "Why are you telling me this, Roz?"
"Because that girl in the booth yesterday, the one who told your boy he was done in this diner, is the bravest person I know. And I have been a coward for 5 years. And I am too old to carry it one more day. And you, Wade Caldwell, are the only man I know who might be able to do something about it without getting everyone killed." Wade was quiet a long moment.
"Roz." "Yes." "Is Donny Ray after her now?" "He was at her house last night. I don't know what he wanted, but when she came in this morning, her hands were shaking and her eyes were 10 miles away."
"He was there, Preacher. I would bet my life on it." Wade stood up. "Finish your coffee, Roz. I'll be back tonight."
"Where are you going?" "To talk to Doc and to start counting bullets." At the Starlight Motel, Doc Hollister listened without interrupting. He sat on the edge of the bed in Wade's room. Wade paced.
Wade did not often pace. Doc watched him pace and said nothing. When Wade was finished, Doc rubbed his goatee. Preacher? Yeah.
You want to tell me why we're about to get into a shooting war with a meth dealer over a waitress and her brother? Wade stopped pacing. The boy in the wheelchair. The one who looks like Calloway. Yeah.
Preacher, it isn't Calloway. I know it isn't Calloway. He's been gone 28 years. I know how long he's been gone, Doc. Doc sighed.
He stood up. Preacher, I've been riding with you for 31 years. I followed you into places that would have scared the devil himself. I have never once asked why. I know.
I'm not asking why now. I'm asking, are you sure? Wade looked at him. Doc, last night I got on my knees for the first time since I quit the pulpit and I prayed. I don't know if anybody was listening, but I prayed.
And this morning I walked into that diner and there's a Marine corporal in a wheelchair looks like a boy I held dying in the sand. And there's a woman running herself into the ground to keep him alive. And there's a man with a badge in his pocket and a meth dealer in his ear and they are coming for that house. He stopped. Doc, I have spent 40 years being angry at God.