Chapter 2

She stepped of the train, tired, miserable after a two day ride. The heat and humidity hit her like a physical slap.

"Who the hell would voluntarily live here?" she thought as she dragged her cases behind her. No one offered to help.

"So much for the vaunted Southern hospitality you hear about in books and movies. Maybe Hardy put the word out through the redneck grapevine."

Thinking his name caused her a brief flash of pain.

Yes, damn it, what happened was her fault, but he should have stayed and fought for her. She hadn't put eyes on him since that morning. She begged her father and Crystal Anne to help her. Crystal had just laughed a second before she looked sympathetic.

"Girl, he's gone. He isn't coming back. I TOLD YOU, you stupid, arrogant woman, what would happen if he caught you, but you went ahead and did it anyway. Again. And he knows about Paris, Allan emailed him as a parting gift. Mark it up as a lesson learned."

"You know what infuriates me? I've known him for almost twenty years, and you were the first person I saw him love. You have no idea how jealous I was, how bad I hated you. But he was happy so I sucked it up."

"Now that you've screwed him over, he'll be even more wary, less trusting than ever before. He may never love again. I'm going to do my best to help him, I'm gonna pamper him, give him whatever he needs. In short, I'm going to do my level best to get him to love me."

Gwen was surprised at the depth of pain she felt, giving way to blinding anger.

"Well good luck with that. He's in Alabama, you're here. That's gonna make it hard to console him. And he's still mine, I'll never let him go! I just need to see him, beg him to listen to me. I can make it up to him, I know I can."

Crystal Anne looked at her with pity.

"Girl, it's been three months and he still hasn't spoken your name. The closest I heard him come is 'that Yankee cunt'. Give it up, let him have some peace. This is my last week here, I'm going to work for him in the Alabama office. He'll forget you if I have to make it my lifes' work. Goodbye, Gwen. If you find someone else, treat him better than you did Hardy."

It was in her mind to physically attack her when she heard her fathers' voice.

He took her arm and led her away, after wishing Crystal Anne good luck with her new job and life, offering to bring her back up if it didn't work out.

When he got her in his office she exploded.

"Daddy, you need to fire that bitch. She's going down there to try to get her hooks in my husband! How could she wish her well?"

Her outburst seemed to have no effect on him. He motioned to a chair and curtly told her to sit.

"Gwen, I wished her well because she's a good woman and a better employee. What she does with your soon to be ex-husband is none of my business. Not to hurt your feelings, but I think she could make him very happy, maybe give him the children he wanted so desperately with you. Face it child, you threw him away. Don't get mad if someone else picks him up."

She started crying again. God, it had been months and she was still at it. Maybe she actually did love him. For the first time he felt a twinge of guilt for trying to manipulate their marriage. Ah well, too late now. He cleared his mind and got to the subject at hand.

"You leave for Birmingham at the end of the week. Are you ready?"

She nodded. It still shocked her he was making her do this.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Please, Daddy, let me stay. Find me a job in another firm. I won't embarrass you."

"Gwen, I don't think you could possible embarrass me more than you already have. I tried to smother it, but it was too good a story not to tell. Sex, drugs, infidelity, Christ, all we needed was a rock band to make it perfect. No, in this town, your name is mud, and will be for awhile."

"Do your year, get your experience, maybe grow up a little. When the time is right you can come home."

Gwen had stopped crying.

"Daddy, I'll do it. I'll serve my sentence, I'll behave. But you know, I'll be in the same state as him, pretty close actually. Sooner or later we'll cross paths. I'll get my chance to beg him to come home."

"I'll go even more willingly if you will do one thing for me."

He looked her over, expecting an outlandish demand.

"Ask me. But if I don't like it I'll say no and you'll be gone anyway."

She actually got on her knees, something he had never seen her do.

"I'm begging here, Daddy. Please help me get a lawyer and try to fight for my marriage. I'll pay for it myself, I've got about nine thousand in checking, I'll pay the retainer. All I want is a chance to talk to him. You've put the word out, no one I've found will even talk to me after they find out who I am. Please, Daddy, please."

He had never seen her like this. Maybe there were the beginnings of a decent person there. He thought about it for a few minutes. She remained on her knees, her face a mixture of hope and despair.

"All right. I'll get Ivan. But baby, turn this into a circus and we'll all be sorry. Act with some dignity. Your word, please."

Damn, she was crying AGAIN.

Between sobs she promised everything he wanted to hear. Looking into her eyes, he was convinced she meant it.

Ivan Asimov was one of the best divorce lawyers in the state. What made him stand apart is he never went for the throat, preferring mediation and counseling. He was the divorce lawyer you went to when you didn't want a divorce.

She had consulted with him twice before leaving. He made her tell him everything, and when she was finished he honestly told her it didn't look good but he would do his utmost.

Muttering a small prayer for his success she returned to the task at hand, lugging her cases.

She was so wrapped up in what she was doing she didn't even see the man approach her.

"Miz Canaday, I presume?"

She looked up. He was tall, a bit stooped, in a wrinkled suit. Balding with a sight paunch, he was the epitome of a middle manager. He was holding out his hand. I'm Paul DuPont, district attorney for Jefferson County, your new boss. I promised your daddy I would meet you, help get you settled. Here, give me those bags."

Before she could utter a word he got her two largest bags and started walking.

He's stronger than he looks, she thought as she followed along. Her bags weighed a ton. When you have to pack your life into three bags, you tended not to waste space. Placing the bags in the trunk of his big Ford, he opened the door for her. Settling into the seat, he turned the air conditioner up as high as it would go.

"Sorry about the heat. You're visiting our fair state in the hottest summer in sixty years. You'll get used to it."

Not likely, she thought, looking out the window at the browned grasses and tree leaves.

She didn't say much, but it didn't matter because he apparently loved the sound of his own voice.

"As I live and breath, I never thought I would have the daughter of Greg Canaday on my payroll. Just goes to show you just never know. How is he? Still as big a practical joker as he was in college? Why, I mind the time he stole a bra from our ethics professor to build a catapult for history class. That woman had the biggest chest I ever saw. She was not happy. He tried to defend his actions by saying he was ethically bound to get the best materials available. She didn't buy it, and he spent the rest of her class kissing her bottom, and it was proportional to her chest. She got her revenge by making him escort her to a faculty student mixer. He was scared to death she was gonna want a little more, if you know what I mean."

Practical jokes? Stealing bras? This was a side of her dad she had never suspected.

He glanced over and saw her expression.

"Ah well, we were quite young. Everybody grows up."

They rode in silence for a bit. He pulled into the Ford dealership and she looked at him.

"We're here to pick up your car. Then, I'll show you to your apartment and you can pick up the keys."

"Afterwards, I'll take you by the office and show you around, introduce you to a few of your coworkers."

He held her gaze for a moment, and she got a glimpse of the power in him.

"Before we get out, I want to clear up a few things. Your daddy told me pretty much how you came to be here. I'll be getting your drug test results. One whiff of anything stronger than a beer and you're gone, no discussion. Do your job as best you can, stay in line, and this year will be over before you know it."

"Most of my staff are married. If I even think you've done anything unprofessional you'll be back on a train the same day. What you do on your own time is up to you, but DO NOT try to play where you work. Do you understand?"

At first she was outraged, how dare he lecture her. She quickly calmed down, this mess was her own making and she could see his point.

"Mr. DuPont, I assure you I will do the best job I can for you, and as for 'playing', it is my deepest desire to get my husband back, so there will be no playing anywhere with anyone."

He looked her over and nodded.

"I'll hold you to that. Believe it or not, I know your husband. Not to rain on your parade, but I'd bet my bottom dollar you'll never see Hardass again. That boy is a first class hater, I've seen it. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not dead."

He must have seen the shock on her face.

"What in the world are you talking about? My husband is the sweetest man I ever met. And it's Hardy, not 'Hardass'."

He looked at her with sadness.

"Girl, some free advice here. Do not tell anyone who your husband is. There's still a few around that think ill of him. He's been known as 'Hardass' since he was seventeen. He's the meanest man I ever saw, including all the killers and whack jobs I sent to Huntsville. There's no stop in him."

"I was after him for years, he was into all kinds of things. He went to juvie twice. He got off twice after he came of age because of good lawyers and bad police work. I finally had him dead to rights, but the local sheriff and the judge, who happened to be his father in law, got him to agree to go into the military in exchange for a clean record. I always wondered what he had on them. But he's back now, and I'm nothing if not patient. Sooner or later he'll revert back to type, and I'll get him."

"So keep quiet about him. There's still a lot of people who hate him, and many more who fear him. People who aren't above using you for leverage."

It was very quiet in the car for a few minutes.

"I'm having a hard time reconciling the man I know to what you told me. He loves people, especially kids. I never even heard him be rude to anyone."

"Check the records when you get a chance, just be discreet. He ran a loose group of thugs and petty criminals called 'the redneck mafia'. People were more afraid of him than they were us. At one time, he was considered so mean that if he set the back of your house on fire and stood out front and dared you to come out, most people would think they had a better chance surviving the fire."

"But I hope you're right, that he has changed. But if you don't mind, I'll reserve judgement until I have more facts. Now, let's get your car."

After a few minutes of paperwork, sign here, sign here, and here, she had her car. A shiny red Ford Focus, it was nice, but was half the size of her Lexus at home.

The apartment was two bedroom, small but brand new. It seemed to be a nice neighborhood.

The offices were small, cluttered. Apparently space was at a premium. She was introduced around and left in the hands of Karen Thomas, senior a.d.a.

"Here it is honey, what you see is what you get. You'll have hardly any privacy, very little time per case, and you better be able to think on your feet. We all share personnel, no one has a private assistant or paralegal, so you have to do a lot of the grunt work yourself. Most of it will be simple, they did it and were dumb enough to get caught. Most times they plead out and it never goes to trial. Paul and I tend to handle the really hard ones. The economy has hurt everyone, driving crime up and our resources down."

"Don't worry, we'll throw you softballs until you get a little seasoning. After that it'll be sink or swim. Here's my card. If you need anything, or just want to talk, call me after six. I'll be glad to give you a hand."

She paused for a minute to see if she was absorbing anything. Satisfied, and finding them alone in her small office, she spoke again.

"Paul and I are the only ones who know who you were married to. I know he warned you, and you know by now he holds a little grudge. I didn't know about his background, but I have been up against him several times in court, and if his killer instincts in court match them out of court, he could be a very dangerous person. Leopards don't change their spots honey, but it your case he may have applied a little whitewash."

"Your actions may have washed the paint off, exposing his true colors. Be careful if you end up around him, it could end up badly."

Gwen looked at her serious face, and realized she didn't have any idea who she had married, none at all.

Hardy sat back in his office chair, idly looking out the window. The thermometer on the bank said 103, another scorcher. His time in Boston had softened him, and he was having trouble adjusting to the heat. Time would toughen him up, it always did. Still, he made sure his runs happened very early in the mornings.

Glancing ay the email on his screen, his frown deepened. He had been out of the military for years, why the summons?

It was pure military babble, but the upshot was he had to present himself to Major Stein, his old doctor, for a follow up visit, strictly routine, according to the wording. It also made clear it was mandatory, and refusal would result in a visit by C.I.D., with orders to bring him in with or without his consent.

He sent a confirmation. He would be at Ft. Stewart, Ga. the following week.

Realistically, he knew it might do him good to talk to the major. The man probably knew more about him than anyone alive. He hadn't been doing well since the breakup, finding he had to constantly monitor himself to keep from lashing out at the slightest provocation. It wasn't fair to his clients, most were fighting for their very lives, and they needed him at 100%.

That night as he got out of the shower, he looked at the scars on his chest, arms, legs, and back. Most were from his time in Iraq, but a few, including one bullet hole, were acquired before he left Alabama. There was only one scar he was proud of, a tiny incision hidden by a tattoo of a snake. A copperhead, as dangerous as a rattler without the benefit of a warning rattle. No one outside his circle of old friends knew the symbolism, he had told Gwen it was a drunken snap decision. When she said he should have it removed, he demurred, telling her it would always remind him to think before acting.

Major Stein sat in his office, reviewing his notes on Hardy Wilkes. He needn't have bothered, he could remember everything.

The man had always intrigued him. Above average in intelligence and size, his good humor and quick wit enabled him to gain friends easily. But when he started peeling the layers of civility away, he realized he was dealing with a very dangerous, very volatile man.

His early records showed he responded well to military life, liking the discipline and rigidity of the service. The first indications of trouble came in his seventh week of boot camp. He got the full story from his drill instructor, all Hardy would tell him was he insulted his mother, something you didn't do to someone from the South.

The D.I. was a bit more descriptive.

"Damn Major, I did not see it coming. Not at all. He just looked like a typical 'good ole boy' from the South."

"In every cycle of recruits, there's always one who thinks he's smarter, better, stronger than us. He's the one you have to break to get the others to fall in line. At first I ignored him, concentrating on the shirkers and loudmouths, but then I got to noticing him. He never smarted off, never disobeyed, but he had that glint in his eye, you know the one that says 'I'm doing this because I choose to, not because you think you can make me.' I decided to cure him of that."

"I gave him every dirty job, extra duty, rode his ass. He did everything I told him to with that stupid half grin of his, like he thought it was funny. It was driving me crazy."

"I did something I hadn't done in years. I engineered a scene where I was riding him hard in front of the other recruits. I was giving him shit and asked him if he was scared of me."

"The little half grin was back. 'No sir, Top, I'm not. I respect you, but I don't fear you.'"

"I was losing control. I told him and the rest of the recruits to report for special duty one hour after chow, behind the barracks, stripped to the waist."

When he showed up I was waiting with two more D.I.s, we were also stripped to the waist.

"Alright," I said, "there's no rank here, no one will report this. If any man thinks he can whip my ass, step up."

"Of course no one did, so I started taunting a few others before for I got to Wilkes."

"Get up here, you dumb redneck, let's see what somebody unafraid can do."

"He just laughed. HE LAUGHED. Then he said since there was no rank here he could feel free to call me a dumbass and walk away. Just like that, I had totally lost control of the situation."

"He was walking off when I yelled at him."

"Walk off, pussy boy. I bet your momma would be real proud of the chickenshit she raised."

"I finally got a reaction from him. He whirled around, eyes blazing."

"My momma didn't raise me, she died when I was young. Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect the dead?"

"I had him, I had his trigger."

"I started calling his mother every name I could think of. I told him I would talk bad about his daddy, but since his momma was such a cheating slut he probably didn't know who he was."

"I saw the cheating remark really worked. He was getting really worked up and I got ready for his rush, when he suddenly smiled at me. The he calmly walked forward, stopped about a inch from my face, looked me right in the eye."

"I'll never forget what he said as long as I live."

"You got anybody you want to send a goodbye message, now's the time. In about thirty seconds I'm fixin' to start beating you, and I won't stop until you're dead."

"Now, Doc, I've been in combat, and before I was a D.I. I taught advanced hand to hand combat courses, so I'm a pretty good scrapper. But if it hadn't been for the other D.I.s and the recruits, there isn't a doubt in my mind I'd be stone cold dead right now."

"I got in a few good licks, but he had skills I never dreamed of, and he wouldn't stop, even when I did. It took seven to pull him off me. I lost two teeth, had seven broke ribs, a cracked femur and two broken toes. Hells bells, Doc, he even bit me. Took four stitches to close it up!"

He broke the nose of one D.I., and got a few good licks in on the other before the recruits subdued him by basically laying all over him. The other D.I. got us to the infirmary, The recruits said they had to lay on him for forty five minutes before he calmed down."

"Of course shit hit the fan, you don't hide that many injuries, and word got out. He would have been drummed out of the corps and I would have been retired, but he stepped up and told the C.O. it was an advanced hand to hand training exercise for the recruits that just got out of hand."

"He knew it was pure horseshit, but it made it go away, so he accepted it. He also had Hardy assigned to long range recon school, you know, the toughest of the tough. After that I don't know what happened to him."

The major knew. Top of the class in recon training, one tour of Iraq resulting in two purple hearts and three reprimands. A year stateside, training others, then back in the mix.

He was halfway through the second tour at the time of the 'incident'. He recalled the reports, including the interview with the lieutenant in charge.

"We were pinned down in a small valley, never saw it coming. The Taliban were dug into the crest of a hill. they had full range, we only had a small window. I already had two dead and three wounded. Every time one of us tried to move they dusted us. The wounded needed medical attention, and our comms were down, couldn't get a signal. Atmospheric abnormality, they said later. I was sweating it, when a voice I never heard before said almost in my ear. 'Damn, lt, what kind of shit have ya'll got yourselves into?' I freaked."

"This guy just eased right up on us, we never even saw him coming. Tall, lanky, grey eyes and a stupid grin on his face."

"How did you get here?"

"Same way you did, I was just a little quieter. They're trying to flank you, but the first two guys they sent out met Allah a little early. Ya'll hold tight, this might take awhile."

"And just like that he was gone, leaving his pack and rifle. I watched him for awhile, and it seemed like he just disappeared."

"About an hour later I thought he had just slipped away, when shooting broke out in the cave, followed by a lot of screaming and what sounded like an animal growling. It quieted down after about ten minutes, except for what sounded like a girl screaming. Our interpreter said it was a kid, yelling he was surrendering, begging for his life, asking Allah to save him from the demon."

I took a chance and we rushed the cave. There was seven men in it, and five of them was dead. One survivor was a kid, we found out later he was fifteen, huddled in the smallest crevice he could find in the back of the cave, begging for his life."

"The other man alive was Hardy. He had been shot three times, once through the right arm, breaking it. He had broken his left leg when he dropped into the cave, he said later it was deeper than he thought. He had been stabbed twice, and still had an AK hanging off his back by the bayonet."

"His sidearm had jammed on sand after the fourth shot. He managed to kill three before it did, then went to work with his knife. One guy was stabbed through the heart, but the other must have put up quite a scrap. He was cut and stabbed at least ten times. The kid had panicked, it was his first time in combat."

"What had him freaked though, was that even as wounded as he was, Hardy had his knife in his left hand, and was sticking it into the sand, dragging his body towards the boy. There wasn't a doubt in our mind he intended to kill him as soon as he got close enough."

"The medic had to hit him twice with morphine to knock him out. He was swinging the knife at us, it took fifteen minutes for him to realize we weren't the enemy."

"We back trailed him while we waited for the chopper and found five more Taliban enjoying Paradise, all with cut throats."

"It turns out one of the guys he killed was the son of a Taliban bigwig, and the boy was his grandson. It got so hot for blondes they brought in hair dye for awhile."

"We even got blonde wigs and started leaving tufts around on patrol, just to mess with their minds, you know. Of course he was back stateside by the time all that happened."

"You know, you hear all these wild stories while you're over there, but I never thought it was real until then. He was one of those guys they sent out, alone, with orders to create as much havoc as possible. I wonder if you went down his back trail how many good Taliban are now enjoying their seventy two virgins. That was the meanest man I ever saw."

The major remembered when he first treated him. PTSD was just coming into vogue, and the military was understandably concerned. They wanted a full profile before they returned him to civilian life.

He had read the original profile, the man should have been bounced over the D.I. incident.

When he finally met him, he was surprised. He seemed a laid back, happy country boy, with a smile on his face. It took a long time to get the full picture of his mindset and moral values.

It wasn't until he discussed his childhood that he made his first breakthrough. The smile had disappeared, remembering tougher times. He remembered his words exactly.

"I was twelve, my sister was eleven. My dad was a small time career criminal, always into something, always going to jail for short periods. Finally he got caught for grand theft auto, running cars into chop shops. His lawyer told him he was going away, but he would try to minimize the sentence."

"The lawyer said he would get bail reduced, but it would take a few days. Finally, grandpa posted bail. Mom and the lawyer were going to get him out the next day, but he hitched a ride back to the house to surprise mom. When we got home from school he was sitting in his truck."

"He got out and met us, taking us to the truck. I remember he had blood on his white tee shirt."

"Kids, we're gonna sit out here for awhile. I need to tell you something. I love you both, with all my heart. I'm going away, probably for a long while. Hardy, I want you to be a man now, and watch out for your sister. Don't let anything happen to her. Promise me, son."

"I did. He turned to my sister."

"Sissy, you're going to be as pretty as your momma. Find a good man, love him as hard as you can. And promise me, swear on your soul, you'll never cheat on him. I know you don't understand now, but you will later."

"He held us, crying. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. We could hear the sirens, and soon three sheriff department cars slid into the yard."

"The first cop was Will Rob Williams. He was just a deputy then, but later he got elected sheriff. He was a friend of the family, his daughter was a year behind Sissy, and mom used to babysit for them. I was surprised to see him with his pistol out."

"Jimmy, [that was my dad's name]step away from the kids."

"He stood up, spreading his arms out. He was calm."

"Will Rob, I ain't got a gun, it's laying on the floor in the bedroom. I called you guys. I surrender, try not to scare my kids anymore than you have to."

"He held his hands out to be cuffed. Will Rob cuffed him and put him in the car before going into the house. He didn't know it, but I was right behind him."

"He caught them in bed together, naked and doing the nasty, pulled an old revolver out of the dresser, and emptied it into them. I went into shock. It took a long time to get over it."

"Two years later my dad was killed in a prison riot, protecting a guard."

"Truth be told, I never got over it. I got into trouble, ran with the wrong crowd, ended up in juvie a couple of times. Then I got popped for of all things, running hot cars into a chop shop. Will Rob and the judge gave me a chance. Join the military and keep a clean adult record."

"I actually like the military, but it's not going to be a career. If I'm here, it's a pretty good indication ya'll don't want that either."

The major asked him why he went after the boy when he obviously was trying to surrender.

"When I dropped into the cave, he was the one manning the machine gun, grinning like it was the most fun he ever had. One thing I learned a long time ago, never let a live snake get behind you. If he hadn't panicked, I'd be the dead one and he would have been the toast of his village. I wasn't about to let him live to kill again."

He said it in a calm manner, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

He was right, he would never be career material, too unstable. There were plenty out there who would recruit him, an unstable mind and killer instincts made him very desirable, but the major fought against that. He was surprised to find Hardy had taken every educational opportunity offered, and needed one more semester to get a degree in business. He would be in rehab for at least another year, so the major tried to steer him into continuing his education.

He never saw him as a lawyer, but he had the right skill set. Intelligence, killer instincts, deceptive, perceptive, able to think on his feet.

By the time physical and psychological rehab was over, the major was convinced Hardy could control his temper and instincts enough to become a productive citizen. Nevertheless, he had him placed on a watch list.

In the end he diagnosed him with PTSD, and only he knew it didn't have anything to do with the military, but an incident in the life of a twelve year old.

Now it appeared he had slipped. If he didn't give a good report after his interview, he wasn't sure what was going to happen.

Gwen hated her life, hated it. Dealing day to day with the dregs of society has a tendency to suck the joy out of life.

It took a little getting used to. Her first case was grand theft auto. It was cut and dried, the guy was caught in the car, switch popped and cranked with a screwdriver that had his prints all over it. Of course he denied it, saying he borrowed the car from a friend, who didn't have a name or address.