Page 128 of Rhodes

"Jesus." He doesn't ask why she would do that, which, to me, is the obvious question, so I don't go into detail.

I watch a woman walk a little white dog down the opposite sidewalk. The dog stops at every iron fence and lifts its leg.

"I keep wanting to do something," I say.

Reeves looks at me now.

"Not the Corps thing. I know better than that. I mean anything. I want to show up for her, let her know I'm here."

"But she told you not to."

"Yeah."

"So don't."

"I haven't."

I set my beer on the little table between us.

"That's the whole fucking problem. I thought I was helping her. I thought I could take one thing off her plate, and I never stopped to think that it wasn't mine to take."

Reeves goes quiet. Not normal Reeves quiet. He can sit beside somebody for an hour without talking and make it seem natural.

I look at his hand, then at his face, because I can tell there's something there.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

He takes another drink.

Something old moves up through the last month of my life, something I've looked at a dozen times and never pushed hard enough.

The weeks’ difference between when Ridge told us Vin died and the death certificate that Saturday in his office has been nagging me ever since. And I can't explain why, but something in my gut tells me Reeves knows.

"Do you know why Ridge waited three weeks to tell us Vin was dead?"

"Fuck Vin. Who cares, Rhodes? Let that go.”

"I care because the whole situation is shitty. Why did he lie, or wait, or whatever the fuck shady thing is going on?”

"He didn't lie."

Reeves takes another drink like we’re talking about which Mardi Gras parade we’re going to. Heat rises up my neck.

"You know something."

He doesn't answer.

"Were you there when Vin died?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

Reeves looks at me. The silence goes on too long. "You killed him."