CHAPTER 10

When Jillian arrived at the Calderwood Diner, Kyle Roach was right where he had promised he would be. He spotted her the moment she stepped inside the folksy roadside grill, and rose from his booth, farthest from the door. He was wearing a baseball cap, tattered along the rim, and a pair of faded olive green overalls that did little to mask his expansive girth. He was nothing like the crackpot Clemmons Night Owl she had been expecting, and his manner and aura immediately put Jillian at ease.

Despite her exhaustion, Jillian had spent much of the past day and evening awake in her hotel room, pondering the link between Belle and Dr. Nick Fury. Finally, after leaving a wake-up-call request for five, she dozed off, twisting her brain into knots over what sort of monster could have done such a thing to such an incredible woman, and how they could have done it. After a brief shower, she stopped by Belle’s apartment before heading for the diner.

Roach extended a hand to her as she neared. His calloused palm was that of a workman, his melancholy blue-green eyes those of a soldier.

“Jillian Coates?” Kyle asked, in a logy drawl.

“That’s me.”

“Kyle Roach, a pleasure to meet you.” He guided her back to the booth and motioned the waitress for two coffees. “First off, let me say how truly sorry I am about the passing of your sister. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I lost quite a few buddies in the war, and one real good friend, but the years have taken the edge off some. That’s about the best I can hope for. Same with you, I suspect.”

Jillian thanked him for his understanding and especially for his honesty. After a string of reflexive “I know what you’re going through” sentiments from friends and coworkers, his remark was refreshing.

In hindsight, her decision to pay one last visit to Belle’s apartment had not been a wise one. Seeing the dark windows from the street had been heart wrenching enough. Her last walk through the empty rooms, now filmy with dust, left her sobbing on the hardwood floor. The closure she had hoped for was absent, and she had trudged back to the street consumed by an insatiable hunger for answers.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet me, Kyle,” Jillian said.

“Heck, it’s nothing at all. I come here most every morning anyway, after I get out of the plant. I couldn’t meet you yesterday because I was working a double. Sorry I troubled you to take an extra day here in Charlotte.”

“It wasn’t any trouble at all, really. As you can tell from the show, I’m desperate for information. Can I get you breakfast?”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“No limits.”

“You should watch me eat before you say somethin’ like that.”

Roach ordered three fried eggs, sausage, bacon, two biscuits, gravy, and grits; Jillian, fresh fruit and yogurt. She felt herself shaking with the notion that she might be close to learning something, anything, that connected to Belle, even if the connection was a tenuous one. Forty-seven different issues of the same comic book, set in Belle’s closet. No copies of even one other title. “Doctor” written in several ways on a number of the covers. Clearly Belle wasn’t in it as a collector. The comics store around the corner from Jillian’s place in D.C. had priced the complete issuance at just over a hundred dollars.

“Maybe we ought to talk before that breakfast arrives,” Jillian said, “unless you can guarantee me you can stay awake after you eat it.”

“Heck, I was thinkin’ of makin’ the grits a double order.”

“Kyle, you know why I’m here. I’m here because I’m very interested in learning more about this Dr. Nick Fury.”

“Well, what do you know so far?” Roach asked.

“Nothing really,” Jillian confessed. “I spent a few hours in the hotel business center Googling every combination of ‘Nick Fury,’ ‘Dr. Nick Fury,’ ‘N. Fury’ I could imagine. All I turned up were references to the comic book character.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. Like I said, I know only one Dr. Nick Fury and I doubt he’s going to come up in any Web search,” Roach explained. “See, Nick Fury, he’s a comic book character, all right. But Dr. Nick Fury, heck, that boy is as real as these here menus.”

“You convinced me it was important we meet in person to share what you know. Why? Is he some sort of criminal or something? Do you think he murdered my sister?”

Roach laughed in a deep, engaging way. “Ma’am, Dr. Nick Fury is a saint, not a killer. At one and the same time, he ’uz one of the most caring doctors and one of the toughest soldiers I’ve ever known.”

The waitress brought over their food. Jillian studied Roach as he took a sip of his black coffee and a lengthy gulp of water before digging in. For a man of war, he seemed very much at peace-except for his eyes. She remembered the serenity in her own life before Belle died. Getting over their parents’ death had been such a long climb for both sisters. Belle had been a constant source of strength throughout the ordeal and together they kept each other grounded.

“I want to know everything I can about him,” Jillian said.

Roach paused and looked beyond her. She could see the years in Afghanistan cross his countenance like a cloud.

“I didn’t join the army until I was twenty-eight,” he began. “My skill wasn’t with a gun much as it was with a wrench. But I was sent out on patrol more than once. Did HVAC work before, so naturally I eventually became an army mechanic. They shipped me all over the world fixing stuff.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah. Good work. Steady pay. Saw the world. I was in my midthirties when I got the call to go to Afghanistan-you know, right after nine-eleven, when we were turning up the heat on the country. Not that it actually needed any more heat.”

He attempted a laugh, but this time quickly gave up. No matter what, there was simply nothing amusing about the place.

“That’s where you met Dr. Nick Fury? In Afghanistan?”

“Yeah,” Roach said. “Only his name wasn’t Dr. Nick Fury. It was Dr. Nick Garrity. ‘Fury’ was just a nickname one of the grunts gave him because of his first name, and it sort of stuck. He was like a water bug over there-all over the place, teaching Marines some basic combat medicine techniques that saved lives in the arena, volunteering at the local clinic, working more shifts at the hospital than assigned. The Energizer Bunny. Didn’t have a patch on his eye, like the comic book Fury, but man, he sure was tough like him. Can you pass me the ketchup, please?”

Jillian slid the bottle across. Roach reached for it with his left hand. It was then Jillian noticed a long, jagged scar running from the tip of his index finger down past the base of his thumb and disappearing into his sleeve.

“What happened there?” Jillian asked.

“Well now, that there is my permanent reminder of Dr. Nick Fury,” he said, speaking between bites. “Crushed my hand in a tool press. Fury was on duty. Spent hours repairing it. A lot of hours. People told me he saved my hand. I was flown to the hospital at Landstuhl in Germany for a revision of his work. They told me there was no revision needed, and sent me back. Didn’t even change the antibiotics he put me on. It still aches a little when I do a double shift or stormy weather comes in, but I sort of welcome the reminder of how lucky I was to have that man on duty when I got hurt. Now you see why I wanted to meet you face-to-face.”

“I do. So where is he? And why do you think my sister would be interested in him?”

Roach shook his head.

“No idea. I don’t stay in touch with the old crew much. You see, something bad, real bad, happened on FOB Savannah where we were stationed.”

Jillian saw the pain in Roach’s eyes intensify. He set his fork down. Instinctively, she reached across and set her hand on his.