When HEROES don't come HOME

Chapter Eleven – The Pier

The pier stretched into the gray water, gulls wheeling and crying overhead, ropes creaking against wood. Reeves sat at the far end of a bench, cigarette between two fingers, watching boats sway. To anyone passing, he was just another man smoking by the water.

Bootsteps. He didn’t look up until she stopped.

Emily Carter. Uniform neat, cap low. She paused, scanned the pier the way soldiers do when they don’t trust open space, then sat beside him. Half her frame vanished behind the hedge that lined the boardwalk.

“You’re Reeves,” she said.

He nodded, flicked ash into the breeze. “That’s what it says on the license.”

Silence stretched, broken only by gulls. Reeves finally asked, flat and professional, “So. What brings you to me? You don’t look like someone who lost her keys or suspects her neighbor of stealing mail.”

Her fingers tightened on her lap. “I want answers. My husband is dead.”

Reeves didn’t react. He’d heard that line before, too many times. He exhaled smoke. “Police give you cause of death?”

“They gave me a folded flag,” she said sharply. “And a coffin without a body.”

That made him glance at her, measuring.

Her voice steadied. “I want you to find who’s responsible. And I want them to pay.”

Reeves leaned back, expression unreadable. “You’re asking for justice, or revenge?”

Emily met his eyes. “Both.”

He almost smiled, but it came out bitter. “And why me? The world’s got no shortage of priests, lawyers, and shrinks.”

“Because you don’t give sermons,” she said. “You ask questions. That’s what I need.”

For the first time, something flickered in his gaze. He shifted, more businesslike. “Alright. Start from the beginning. Who do you think is responsible?”

Her answer came fast. “The Army. Not the soldiers in the field. The ones higher up. His commanders. The brass who signed the orders and the lies.”

Reeves gave a low whistle. “That’s not a neighbor stealing mail. That’s brass with stars on their collars. And when you go after them, it’s not just you who pays. They’ll crush anyone with your last name. That’s how they work.”

Emily’s jaw tightened. “I don’t have anyone else.”

That got his attention. He studied her profile. “Explain.”

She drew a breath, steadied herself. “I’m an orphan. No parents, no siblings. Daniel was all I had. And last week… I lost the baby too.” Her words came flat, stripped of drama. “So it’s just me now. If they come after someone, they come after me.”

Reeves didn’t move. He let the silence drag, testing her. Then: “You realize if you dig, you don’t stop halfway. People disappear doing less.”

Emily’s voice hardened. “If I stay quiet, I disappear anyway. At least this way my life means something. He was my husband. We were supposed to have a child. A future. All gone. This is all I have left.”

Reeves turned to face her more directly, his tone sharper. “And what if the truth you find is ugly? What if your husband wasn’t the man you thought he was?”

She didn’t flinch. “Then I’d rather live with the truth than choke on lies.”

Reeves studied her eyes, searching for cracks. He saw none—only fire sharpened by loss.

He leaned back, ground his cigarette under his boot. “Alright. Let me ask you another thing. Why trust me? You don’t know me. For all you know, I could sell your story to the same bastards you’re accusing.”

Emily turned, holding his gaze. “Because you don’t lie to me. Not yet. Everyone else gave me speeches—commanders, chaplains, doctors. You don’t waste words. You ask the right ones. That’s why.”

For a moment, the gulls were the only sound between them. Reeves’s eyes softened, though his face stayed hard.

Finally, Emily’s voice broke the silence, lower now, edged with hope she hated to show. “Will you take it? My case?”

Reeves scratched his jaw, looking past her at the restless water. “First, I check a couple of things. Paperwork. Names. Make sure your story lines up with the whispers I’ve been hearing.” He rose, pulling his coat tighter against the wind. “Then I’ll call you.”

Emily nodded, but he caught the flicker of relief in her eyes. For the first time since the funeral, she wasn’t alone.

They didn’t shake hands. They didn’t smile. But when Reeves walked off the pier, she stayed, staring at the water as if it might finally answer. And somewhere between the slap of waves and the wind tugging at her uniform, she realized: for the first time, she had an ally.