LITMIR.BIZ

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mentioned their father’s death or leaving Fort Rickman years earlier, yet the topic had hovered like a dark cloud over their time together until, in parting, Dani had opened her arms and the two women had embraced, both with some hesitation and neither making the most of the moment. Yet the outreach on Dani’s part had been significant enough to, if not knit the tear, at least bandage the wound she doubted would ever completely heal.

      Pushing aside the guilt that had claimed her heart for too long, Maggie tugged her coat closed against the wind and hurried inside where the glare of fluorescent lights greeted her along with the brisk “Welcome to Fort Rickman” of the military policeman on duty.

      With a perfunctory nod, she pulled her driver’s license and registration form from her purse. After giving him the documents, she raked her free hand through her chestnut-colored hair, painfully aware of her disheveled appearance.

      If only she had changed into something more presentable than faded jeans and a baggy orange sweater prior to starting out on her journey. As distraught as Dani had sounded over the phone, Maggie’s focus had been on packing a suitcase and heading for the highway. She’d made the trip in a little over two hours.

      “Ma’am, your reason for entering post?”

      The MP’s question brought to mind a number of answers. “I’m here to see my sister, Major Danielle Bennett. She lives at Quarters 1448 Hunter Road.”

      Referencing Maggie’s license and registration form, he typed information into a computer database before he handed them back to her along with the visitor’s pass. After a hasty word of thanks, Maggie scurried to her car, threw the pass onto the dashboard and climbed behind the wheel. A sense of déjà vu, mixed with sadness, slipped around her shoulders as she drove through the main gate and entered post.

      Maggie passed the Post Exchange and Commissary and caught sight of the old movie theater in the distance. All too vividly, she remembered sitting by herself, while a few rows over, Dani watched the movie surrounded by friends—mainly boys taken with her raven hair and rounded curves. As a young teen, Maggie had been bashful, gawky and underdeveloped.

      Uncomfortable dwelling on the reality of her childhood, she refocused her eyes on the road ahead. Speed limit thirty miles per hour, a road sign warned. Maggie checked her speedometer. Easing up on the accelerator, she made the first of a series of turns that eventually led to the old housing area where brick homes sat guarded by stately oaks. She entered the subdivision painfully aware of even more memories that bubbled up from her youth. Despite the years that had passed, the streets were still familiar. Maggie turned right at the first intersection and pulled to a stop in front of Quarters 1448 where her sister now lived.

      For a long moment, she stared at the Federalist-style structure built in the early 1900s, knowing farther down the road and on the opposite side of the street sat another two-story house with the identical floor plan where Dani and Maggie and their parents had lived when the girls were teens. Their dad’s assignment had been cut short by his death—a tragedy that haunted her still. Dani carried the guilt on her shoulders, while Maggie carried it in her heart.

      Pulling in a calming breath and forcing her mind back to the problem at hand, she yanked the keys from the ignition, grabbed her purse and overnight bag and stepped onto the sidewalk. This wasn’t the time to revisit the past.

      Maggie needed to focus on her sister’s problems. Dani’s voice had been stretched thin over the phone when she’d called, and the nervous laughter Maggie had heard at lunch last week had been replaced with labored pulls of air brimming with tension. The fact that Dani had even called made Maggie realize how desperate her sister was for help.

      Graham had moved out a week ago, but he kept coming back, insisting their marriage could be saved. Finally, Dani had told him point-blank she wanted a divorce. Never one to be pushed around, Graham had balked at first until he finally realized Dani wouldn’t change her mind.

      The Graham Hughes Maggie remembered usually got what he wanted. And from what Dani had said, it sounded as if Graham wanted his marriage intact, which was why Maggie had packed a suitcase and driven two hours to arrive at Fort Rickman in the middle of the night. Not that Maggie could provide protection, but she could offer her sister much-needed support.

      Before closing the driver’s door, she dug into her handbag for the house key Dani had insisted she take when they’d finished their lunch last week and were ready to part company again.

      “Just in case,” she’d said, giving no other information as she had shoved the key into Maggie’s hand. Now glad of her sister’s forethought, Maggie climbed the steps to the front porch and knocked repeatedly on the door. When no one answered, she slid the key into the lock and stepped inside, feeling an immediate sense of coming home.

      Her gaze swept Dani’s living room, taking in the two Queen Anne chairs, the couch and love seat and then the marble-topped coffee table decorated with memorabilia her sister had kept that honored their military dad. His medals and the flag that had draped his coffin were both displayed in glass cases, reminders of the man he once had been.

      Leaving her suitcase and purse in the foyer, Maggie shrugged out of her coat and followed a lone light into the kitchen. Neat, uncluttered, every item in its place and, just as with the living room, so like their house of old. Their mother had been a meticulous housekeeper, and from the looks of Dani’s quarters, she kept her own house as tidy as their mother had up until her own death years ago.

      Circling through the dining area, Maggie stopped at the foot of the stairs. She glanced up and listened, hearing nothing except the wind buffeting the house.

      “Dani?” On the phone her sister had mentioned being tired. Had she gone to bed?

      Maggie flipped on the upper hall light and climbed the wooden stairway that wound to the second story. A small bathroom sat at the top of the landing, flanked by two bedrooms. Searching for her sister, she glanced into each room—one of which had been turned into an office—before she headed for the master suite and tapped on the door.

      Stepping into the darkened interior, Maggie switched on the lamp, noting the neatly made bed and undisturbed accent pillows. The bath and dressing area beyond sat vacant, as well. Backtracking to the head of the stairs, she peered over the banister, debating her options, then refocused her gaze on the closed door at the end of the hallway.

      Her pulse quickened, pounding against the tendons in her neck, filling her ears with the thump of her own heartbeat. Visions from the past returned to taunt her as they often did in the stillness of the night.

      Her father’s body shrouded in death.

      Her mother’s screams of disbelief.

      Maggie shook her head ever so slightly, scattering the memories that clouded her consciousness.

      “Let the dead bury the dead,” came the words from scripture. Maggie had moved on with her life and didn’t need reminders to draw her back in time.

      What about Dani?

      Over lunch and again on the phone tonight, she had sidestepped mention of their father’s death. The realization that Dani could still be caught in the past unnerved Maggie. With purposeful steps, she walked to the end of the hallway. The stairs to the attic sat behind the closed door. Maggie grabbed the knob and tugged it open.

      Light from the hall spilled across the bottom steps. Pulling in a fortifying breath, she climbed the stairs, one foot after the other. At the top, she peered into the darkness and swatted the air, hoping to make contact with a pull string for the overhead light just as she had done years ago in her childhood quarters.

      A sound below punctuated the stillness. Footsteps or the creaks of an aged house? Perhaps Dani was home after all. Maggie turned to descend the stairs she had just climbed.

      A moonbeam broke through the dormer window, cascading light into the corner of the attic where an overturned ladder-back chair lay on the floor.

      The hair on the back of her neck rose in protest.

      “No!” Maggie screamed as she raised her eyes

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