SikestonL
t. Walter Sundstrom of Troop E, MHP, was a tall, lean man, nearly bald and deeply tanned. He wore rumpled civilian clothing and looked like he’d just been jostled out of a sound sleep. He led Shake and Jim toward a room at the rear of his headquarters, glancing at the documents he’d gotten from the Desk Officer.
“You’re from Texas, Mr. Davis. What are you doing in our lovely state?”
“Kind of an old home week, Lieutenant. I was born and raised around here. I came up to take a look at a few places and visit some relatives.”
“And a retired Marine…seems like you guys are all over the place.” The tone suggested Lt. Sundstrom would be happier if that were not the case.
“You serve?”
“Yep. Army airborne. I made a couple of sandbox deployments then got out and went back to college.
