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"The military . . . the military police. I killed a man." |
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Cappy felt the jolt in the pit of her stomach. She stepped back, reeling, her senses deserting her. "You killed a man?" she repeated in disbelief. |
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"I . . . I had to . . . to get out of there. This guy Klinger was rotating back to the States. He had his papers, he had his pay, he had everything. He was pulling his last shift as a runway observer. I had to get out of there. I cut his throat and buried him under a pile of snow near the observation tower. I took his papers and everything. When his number came up for a MATS flight to Pepperell, I got on. Nobody double-checked anything." Harvey hesitated as though he was playing the scene over in his mind. "By now they probably found his body and figured out what happened. By now they're looking for me." |
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"If you're not Harvey Klinger, then who the hell are you?" she demanded. |
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The man who called himself Harvey Klinger, the man with the mutilated hand, looked up at her with his empty eyes. "Does it really matter?" |
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Stunned, Cappy took a step toward him again. He had started to shiver. If she couldn't somehow get the blood stopped, he was going to go into shock. |
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