John Belamy sat on the edge of the twin bed and stared at his wife who slept in the other. She faced away from him, bed covers pulled over her shoulders, only a cap of gray hair visible. He looked around the room, remembering better days. The twin beds had arrived six months ago when Louise’s dementia began prodding her in the middle of the night.
John Belamy sat on stared He unbuckled the leather band of his wristwatch, slid off his wedding ring, and silently placed both in a shallow bowl on the nightstand. The detective’s words came back to him. Probably nothing to worry about, but that he should be careful. John Belamy was not a man prone to irrational fear. He’d spent two years on the ground in Vietnam, had seen more death and destruction than he would ever be able to forget. He’d ch
