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always felt of late, when he had to deal with Nygaard, curled through him. “He’s a decent Marine but he gets belt-fed when he has to so much as take a shit.”
    “You’re a staff sergeant so you outrank him, right?” Sean asked.
    “I was promoted meritoriously when we returned from deployment.” Corey shifted in his seat and his leg began to bounce violently. “In Afghanistan, we held the same rank but my job within the platoon meant I was higher up in the hierarchy. He was in charge of a team of five Marines when we went on missions.”
    “So, what did he do to make you hate him?” Sean sounded baffled.
    Corey straightened his legs as much as he could. He fisted both hands where they rested on his thighs. “I didn’t say I hated him.”
    Sean glanced repeatedly from the road to Corey’s face. “You didn’t see your face when you checked your phone the first time he called.”
    Clenching his jaw, Corey turned away from Sean to stare out his window. “He acts like he and I are friends. He talks like there are some big secrets only the two of us know. He pretends we’ve been through some sort of hellish battle that bonded us forever.” He turned back to look at Sean. “It’s fucking creepy and it pisses me off.”
    “Is it possible something you guys experienced affected him more than it did you?” Sean’s question was frighteningly intuitive.
    “Just before we came home, the platoon was hit by an IED and we lost a couple of Marines.” Corey straightened his dog tags and his leg started to bounce again. “The LT ordered me to take part of the platoon and engage the hostiles inside a nearby house. We eliminated the threat. The Afghanis won’t let it the fuck go.”
    “And now this guy has murdered his girlfriend?” Sean questioned. He continued without waiting for Corey to respond, “So many of you guys have come back with PTS. Is it possible that’s this guy’s problem?”
    Corey remembered how Nygaard was always a little more enthusiastic about their kills, and at the same time he seemed to have zero empathy and compassion for the populace. “I might be wrong but I don’t think PTS turns us evil. It might turn a wife-beating asshole into a killer but I don’t think it turns good men into killers.” Corey needed to believe that was true.
    Sean was silent for a long while.
    Dread settled, cold and heavy, in Corey’s gut. He hastily blurted to Sean, “I haven’t had any violent incidents since I’ve been back.”
    Sean looked at Corey in surprise. “That thought never occurred to me. Why would you think I thought you were dangerous?”
    “I don’t know.” Cory shrugged in aggravation. “It just seemed like that’s where that entire conversation ended up.” He’d cut his own fucking hands off before he let himself harm Sean. “So…I just…I ignored that call earlier because I hate this guy and I thought he was calling ’cause he wanted to hang out, or was drunk somewhere and wanted a ride. He’s not an ex.”
    “I get that now,” Sean said quietly. “I just couldn’t think of any other reason you would show that much hatred for someone who was calling you.”
    The pain in Corey’s belly eased. He took a deep breath and managed to get his body to relax a little. Maybe he hadn’t totally fucked things up with Sean. “I just don’t know why he was calling me earlier. I have no idea if it was before or after he’d killed her.” Corey hoped to hell ignoring that phone call hadn’t cost a woman her life.
    Corey snorted derisively when another thought occurred to him. “He probably wanted help hiding her body,” he said with hostility, scrubbing both hands over his short hair.
    “Jesus,” Sean whispered.
    They were silent as Sean pulled off the freeway and made the short drive to Vista Detention Facility. It was easy to find the public parking.
    When Sean shut off the engine, the resulting quiet was jarring.
    “Do you want to wait here?” Corey asked. “I don’t