Page 140 of Crocodile Tears

“To talk to the personal trainer – D’Angelo Clark.”

“So, you still think Lytton is innocent?”

“Yes, but I also think this murder was about him, in some way. I’m just not sure how or why.”

He ended the call and continued driving, lost in thought. He mulled over the news report, trying to work out why it was bothering him. There was something. A niggle. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. He stowed it away to examine in more detail later.

Then he reflected on Alexander, cast forever in the public’s mind as irredeemably bad, judged and found guilty of any crime he was associated with, and all because of one mistake, made when he was a boy.

Josiah felt a certain affinity with him. Both of them had been givena reputation, accurate or not, and he knew what it was like to carry such a burden.

“You brought me to Rosengarten? Why the hell would you do that?” Josiah asked furiously.

The scarred landscape looked eerie in the sullen twilight. The ground was still black from the bomb blasts and artillery fire of the fierce battle fought here. The resulting blazes had lit up Rosengarten like a Christmas tree.

Charred tree trunks and burnt-out buildings marked the bleak landscape, although thick straggles of weeds were starting to carpet the area in shades of green.

“I thought you might want to lay some demons to rest,” Peter said mildly.

“Well, I don’t. I don’t have any. Let’s go.”

“Not yet. This is the site of a famous battle; I’d like to take a look around.” Peter jumped out of the jeep, Hattie by his side.

Josiah wrapped his arms around himself and stayed resolutely where he was. He watched, balefully, as Peter explored the old battlefield, with Hattie snuffling around enthusiastically next to him.

The damaged land disappeared into a massive lost zone that stretched for miles, broken only by little islands. Hamburg had once stood out there, a huge, thriving city with a long, proud history, now mostly buried under water. The influx of refugees after the Rising had created an instability that dogged the region to this day. Law and order were restored sporadically, but the outlaws and warlords always fought back.

Josiah didn’t know the wrongs and rights of it. He was just a soldier who went where he was sent. He’d never even heard the name Rosengarten until he’d arrived here with his unit to fight, and he hoped never to hear it again. Rosengarten was his past. His future, if he wanted it, was standing over there, with a sleek black dog sitting loyally by his side. Yet he knew Peter wouldn’t allow him that future until he’d faced his past.

Unwrapping his arms from around his body, he opened the jeep door, then walked slowly over to Peter and Hattie. He stood beside them, taking a long, hard look at the disfigured land. He could still feel the searing heat in his throat, hear the deafening roar of the shells exploding, and smell the choking stench of burnt flesh.

“We’d been driving the rebel forces back for miles,” he said tightly, surprising himself.

Peter was silent.

“Then we got here, to Rosengarten, and there was nowhere else for them to go except into the water. We thought they’d surrender, but they didn’t. I suppose they had nothing left to lose.”

Looking down, he realised Hattie was lying at his feet, her chin resting on his boots.

“We got into a pitched battle here – half my unit was killed early in the fighting, including all the officers. There was nobody in charge – it was bloody chaos. We were taking heavy fire, subject to constant drone attacks, hemmed in by rebel forces on all sides, and you know what?” He fought down another rush of adrenaline as he looked around at the blackened landscape.

“I loved it,” he breathed. “I fucking loved it, Peter. I loved the roar of the battle, and I loved having a faceless enemy to fight – people I could cut down without a single shred of remorse. I loved it here. This place, that’s so black and dead now, and where so many died – this is where I felt most alive. I’m ashamed, Peter – I’m ashamed that I’m this way. That’s why I didn’t want to come back.”

“You held off the rebels until relief arrived,” Peter said. “You may not like how it made you feel, but you took out a small army of enemy fighters single-handedly. I read the battle report – what you did here was impossibly heroic. If I hadn’t seen you in action with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. You’re a true soldier, Joe. You did your job.”

“But did I have to enjoy it so much?” he pleaded bitterly. “The army thought I was God’s gift – the great hero of Rosengarten – but I felt like a fraud.”

“You saved a lot of lives.”

“And took a hell of a lot, too. I had my unit to protect, you see. They were the closest thing I had to family. I tried to save them, butmost of them died here.” He glanced around the place, feeling the dead weight of all that loss settle on him again.

“You did all you could,” Peter said gently.

“But they died anyway. People always do.” His mother, his father, his friend Jason, who’d died in the prizefighting ring. Then his unit. “I just keep losing everyone,” he murmured. “I couldn’t keep them alive, and God knows, I tried. I really did. That part hurts so much. I tried, and I failed.”

“You can’t keep everyone you care about alive. That’s not your job, Joe,” Peter said softly.

“Isn’t it?” Josiah gave a tight smile. “Later, in the hospital, a couple of the lads who survived came to visit me, and I could see they were looking at me differently. I didn’t want them seeing me as a hero. It was like a barrier went up between us, and they didn’t see me as me anymore.”

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