Sniper's Justice (Caje Cole Book 9) by David Healey (great books for teens TXT) 📕

and Angela to their own devices. Cole felt that Danny needed some time just to be a kid and forget about what had happened.

Danny had been quieter than usual as the enormity of what he had done sank in. Taking a life was never easy, even in self-defense. When Danny had retreated to his room to watch MTV and eat pizza, Cole had let him be, not sure what else he could say or do for his grandson. Cole was thankful that the upcoming day with Angela had snapped him out of his brooding.

“Are you sure those two don’t need a chaperone?” Cole asked Hans. “Are you comfortable leaving your niece alone with my grandson? He is a teenage boy, after all.”

Hans shrugged. “They are young,” he said. “Let them do what young people do. Besides, your grandson is a gentleman. The business we are attending to concerns the past. Let them enjoy the present.”

“Amen to that,” Cole agreed.

At the wheel of the Volvo again, Hans drove them down winding mountain roads to the village called Wingen sur Moder. The place was too far off the beaten path to be much of a tourist destination. Cole had been there forty years ago, but none of the modern roads approaching the village looked familiar. Nonetheless, it was a lovely village, set among the hills, with one of every shop that the villagers might need in this remote location. It was also small enough that the arrival of an automobile with German registration plates did not go unnoticed. A couple of old-timers scowled in their direction.

“They noticed the car’s Nummernschilder,” Hans said, using the German slang for vehicle tags. “I do not think they like Germans very much.”

“They’d be a lot less friendly if we had driven up in a Panzer.”

“Good point,” Hans agreed.

The looks that the foreign car received were in part because this village had not been so peaceful back in the winter of 1945. In January, German forces had pushed deep through this countryside as Operation Nordwind drove further into the Allied lines just as the Allies thought that the Battle of the Bulge had been won. Although it had little strategic value, this village had found itself caught in the middle of a battle that raged all around them. The battle had moved from the hills, to the narrow streets, and even into the houses themselves. The roar of tank engines, machine-gun fire, and individual rifle shots had shattered the mountain quiet. In addition to the soldiers on both sides, many villagers had died. Others had lost their homes and shops. It had taken the villagers many years to recover from the war’s devastation.

At the village center, Hans parked the Volvo and got out with Cole. The village itself looked much as Cole remembered it. Several more trees had been planted, however, softening the street. The cobblestones were gone, replaced by modern paving with parking spaces marked in bright paint.

A few of the older villagers noticed them, and now that Cole and Hans had left the car with German tags behind, nodded in grim acknowledgment. They knew well enough why two old strangers were here. These aging villagers still remembered that day many years before.

The smell of woodsmoke transported him to another time and place. Cole stood thoughtfully, remembering the fight that had taken place there. He was lost for a moment in the sounds of battle, rifles firing, the ratatatat of machine guns, even the deep boom of tanks and mortars.

He glanced up at the church steeple, seeing what a clear shot Hauer must have had. It all seemed like yesterday.

With an effort, he shook his head to clear it and return to the present. The flashback had been so intense that he was startled to find the village so quiet and calm. A few people strolled the sidewalks, bundled against the chill autumn air, chatting quietly.

Hans had been watching him, but the old German soldier made no comment. Perhaps he had been lost in his own memories as well. Both men realized that as their generation faded, so would the last living memories of that war vanish.

They made their way to the small stone monument near the church that marked the graves of those who had died during the battle. Years before, a marker had been placed with the names engraved on it of the U.S. soldiers who had given their lives there. Cole didn’t know the name of the young soldier who had died at the side of the nun, but surely his name was included. Cole had brought along a small American flag, which he now placed at the foot of the marker.

Then he moved on to the second marker, on which the names of villagers who had died in the fight were written. He had left his cheaters in the damn car, so he had to get on his knees to read the names. He quickly spotted Sister Anne Marie’s name among the fallen.

Of course, Cole hadn’t known her beyond that brief meeting all those years ago. But she had clearly been a selfless young woman, called to serve a greater good by helping the American prisoners. One more life lost among many. Hauer had murdered her, plain and simple. A few days ago, Cole had finally been able to deliver his final sniper’s justice.

Still kneeling, he placed a single rose into the cold ground. For you, Sister.

Cole got to his feet, feeling the ache in his arm from that last fight. Hans stood a few feet away, his eyes closed, evidently offering a silent prayer. When he was finished, he crossed himself.

“For the nun?” Cole asked.

“For us all, my friend.”

The two old soldiers headed back to the car, their mission done. They drove back without saying much, both lost in thought.

After Hans dropped him at the hotel, Cole was still in the lobby when Danny came through the revolving doors. He was alone but smiling, apple-cheeked from the crisp air. It was