None of this was normal. Like I said before, red flags had been raised all over the damn place. The recruiters were still after me. Rangers, Green Berets, Delta Force, CID and a few folks who didn't want to tell me what their groups were called or what exactly they did.I found that I liked the interviewing and the investigating more than any of the rest of the things I'd done, so I decided on CID.I did my testing and got promoted a few times, and then found myself working like a plain clothes police investigator.I wasn't happy, I didn't have any friends, no private or social life to speak of and there was still the unending cycle of pain and suffering and death going on inside me. But hey, life goes on, right? And then one day a couple of random events conspired to take me out of my carefully prepared isolation and put me squarely into the middle of a fucking war.It was Tuesday morning and I had been ordered out to follow up on an interview we'd done with a first louie accused of. " He stopped and looked at her quizzically."I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asked."I said Good Morning, Jim," she pronounced emphatically for him with a pleasant smile. She looked him over from head to toe. His shoes looked like they had been slipping around a bit as he walked, and the back of his pant leg was touching the ground. There was a definite softness in his face, but... oh dear. Were those his nipples she saw poking indentations in his shirt? Jim noticed her staring and quickly crossed his arms authoritatively to cover them."Sarah," he began, pausing to clear his throat. "Could you cancel my appointment with Dan Rosenthall and clear my calendar for the rest of the day. I'm feeling under the weather today and, uh, I think I should go home." That's a good idea, Jim. You should go home and rest," she said with dramatic concern. "I hope you feel better!" she called after him as he half-ran, half-tripped out of the office.***Jim awoke alone in bed again, only this time there was.
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