74
Harvey looked everywhere for Maxie.
It had taken him half the afternoon to track down the memory before he’d found it.
Helen had said, “The Rip.”
…and so had Major Maxwelton.
The DFAC, the ball field, the dorms.
The dorms.
He still couldn’t make sense of it.
Maxie’s room wasn’t just empty—it was barren.
No two-dollar plastic baseball trophies standing on the dresser. No glove that Maxie’s father had given to him and he still used though it was a little too tight.
Photos of his dead sister—the reason Maxie had joined up in the first place fifteen years ago.
Clothes in the closet and drawers.
Spit-shined shoes and white dress uniforms.
All gone.
“What the hell?”
The empty room didn’t answer back.
“What the hell?”
“Hey, Harvey,” it was barely a whisper.
He spun to face He
