Apocalypse Burning

by Mel Odom

  “Primarily,” Megan said, “I didn’t try to have Gerry removed from the home because—before that night—I felt like we had the situation under control.”

  “‘We?’”

  “The family and I. And the counseling office.”

  “Other counselors were aware of the situation in the Fletcher household?”

  “Yes. We always have a peer we can use as a sounding board.”

  Benbow nodded. “What do you mean when you say you felt you had the Fletcher situation ‘under control’?”

  “I’d been seeing Gerry for fourteen months. Since PFC Boyd Fletcher got transferred to Fort Benning. During that time, Gerry ended up in the hospital twice. The first time was nine months ago. His ribs were heavily bruised.”

  Benbow reached into his uniform pocket, took out a spiral-bound deck of index cards, and flipped through them. “On June sixteenth of last year. The injury was due to a fall.”

  “That’s what Gerry said.”

  “And that’s what the attending physician put on the report.”

  Megan scowled. “The attending physician was Dr. Henry Plunkett. He was on short time. Less than three months to go before retirement. He’d been military all his life. Putting Gerry’s story down as Gerry relayed it was the path of least resistance. He didn’t want to rock the boat.” She paused. “And truth to tell, I didn’t push him hard.”

  “Why?”

  “At that point, I didn’t have enough history with the family to make a charge stick.” Megan took a breath and tried to keep the frustration at bay. The effort was harder than normal because her encounter with Trimble kept coloring her thinking. “In a domestic situation like this, you have to be careful how you handle things. If you push too early with not enough information, you can wreck the case forever and always.”

  “Because the defendant can prove a case for prejudice on the part of the counselor.”

  “Exactly.” Megan was surprised, and it must have showed.

  Benbow gave her a small smile. “A situation like this wasn’t exactly something we covered in law school. I’ve been doing my homework.”

  “Yes, it seems that you have,” Megan commented. She felt a little better. Lieutenant Doug Benbow was new to Fort Benning and new to his legal profession, but he seemed surprisingly thorough.

  “But on June sixteenth you didn’t believe Gerry’s story about falling was the truth.”

  “Helen Cordell—”

  “The night-shift supervisor of the counseling center?”

  “Yes. She was.” Helen and her husband had vanished in the disappearances. Megan’s friendship with the woman had been deep and had spanned several years. She missed Helen terribly.

  “She’s gone. One of the vanished.”

  Megan felt a stab of pain at how casually those words rolled off Benbow’s tongue. That was how so many people who had been left behind had categorized those who had disappeared. The vanished. Like it was some kind of terminal illness the rest of them were lucky not to have gotten infected with.

  If they only knew the truth.

  For a moment, Megan wondered what it would have been like to arrive in heaven with Chris. He would have been so full of wonder, the way he was when they went to the zoo or the park or the mall. Almost any place. His eyes had constantly made the world new to her. She almost felt his small hand in hers, and her hand clutched at his reflexively. Only he wasn’t there. Tears burned the back of her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Benbow asked. Worry creased his forehead.

  “I’m fine.” Megan’s voice sounded tight. “Like you said, last night was a long night.”

  Benbow nodded, but he didn’t look overly certain. “Maybe we could postpone this to another time.”

  “I can’t guarantee when that time would be.”

  “All right.” The lieutenant referred to his notes again. “Helen Cordell told you something about the bruising on Gerry’s ribs the first time he was admitted to the emergency room here at the fort hospital.”

  “She told me that she didn’t believe Gerry had gotten hurt during a fall down a flight of stairs.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the injury looked like the result of multiple impacts—and the bruising wasn’t consistent with impact with stairs.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Helen believed after observing the injury that the bruising was caused by repeated punches. Unfortunately, the bruising was old enough and so heavily massed that knuckle imprints didn’t show up.”

  Benbow’s brows drew together and he didn’t look happy.

  “Doug,” Megan said, “Gerry’s life was hard in some respects.”

  “Yeah. I know that from your reports, and from what you’ve told me there were problems.”

  “The reports don’t tell the whole truth. His problem was that his father has an anger-management issue. Whenever Boyd Fletcher got mad at the army or at his wife—whom he suspected of being unfaithful—or came home in a bad mood, Gerry was the one who paid the price.”

  “It’s hard for me to imagine a full-grown man beating up a kid.”

  “I don’t have to imagine it. Over the years I’ve counseled kids who have had problems like that. Gerry Fletcher’s situation wasn’t unique.”

  “But you didn’t have enough evidence to act.”

  “No,” Megan confirmed. “Not then.”

  “Gerry wouldn’t admit that his father hit him?”

  “No.”

  Benbow shifted, bringing out a pen and making notes on the index cards. “You followed up with the family?”

  “No.”

  Benbow looked at her.

  “There was no just cause,” Megan explained. “No real proof. Only suspicion, and you’ve got to have a lot more than that to perform in any manner that might suggest accusation. I suggested that I see Gerry again. Just as a follow-up because he seemed apprehensive. I said that maybe the move to Fort Benning wasn’t agreeing with him. But when I tried to set up a time later, Boyd Fletcher declined.”

  “And he could do that?”

  “Yes. He’s Gerry’s father, and no charges had been filed.”

  “You couldn’t do anything about that?”

  “No.”

  Benbow referred to his notes. “Gerry came into the hospital on three other occasions.”

  “Before his arm was broken, yes.”

  “We’ll get to the broken arm. I want to discuss the other visits where similar instances of bruising were reported.”

  “All of those visits weren’t for medical attention for his injuries. They occurred when Gerry went in for routine medical care—for a vaccination or a flu shot or a round of antibiotics for a cold. On those three occasions you’re talking about, the attending physician made notes that Gerry had ‘suspicious bruising.’”

  “Suspicious bruising?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you view the bruises?”

  “No. I couldn’t. The physicians didn’t ask me to. I only found out about them later. There are all kinds of privacy issues to consider in a case like this.”

  “What did you do when you found out about this suspicious bruising?”

  “I was able to schedule counseling time with Gerry.”

  “Did you see the bruising then?”

  “No.”

  “Then how were you able to schedule time? Especially if his parents didn’t agree to counseling sessions. Which, I’m guessing, Boyd Fletcher didn’t.”

  “He didn’t. I had to go over his head. I suggested to the physician each time that we might want to interview Gerry for possible depressive episodes that might trigger repeated self-inflicted injuries.”

  Benbow pursed his lips. “I really wish we had gone over this before.”

  “Why?”

  Tapping his pen against the index cards, he answered, “Because if there’s paperwork around that documents your belief that Gerry Fletcher was hurting himself because of depression, it’s going to lo
ok bad for us.”

  “He wasn’t depressed,” Megan said. “He was scared. I only used that as a wedge to get inside the family.”

  “Okay, but it may come back to haunt us. And that brings us to another issue. To the jury, it’s going to look like you were tampering with the evidence. Setting Boyd Fletcher up to fall. The jury may view the case as tainted from that point on.”

  “Boyd Fletcher was beating his son.” Megan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “It was the only thing I had to use.”

  “I understand that. Really, I do. I know that you did the best you could, Megan. I know that. But what I also know is that the opposing counsel is going to have a field day with the ammunition you’re inadvertently giving him.”

  Megan took a deep breath and released it. “If you’re thinking that maybe this case is getting shaky and you want out, Lieutenant, all you have to do is say so.”

  Benbow looked at her in surprise. “That isn’t what I’m saying.”

  “It sounds like it from here.”

  “Megan, I’m on your side. I believe in you.” Benbow’s voice softened. “I wish I had more time to prepare, that’s all.”

  His meaning wormed through her angry, conflicted thoughts. “They’ve set the preliminary hearing?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Three days from now.”

  “What?” Megan struggled for a moment to remember what day it was. “We’re going to start on Monday?” Saying that seemed to make the whole ordeal even more fearful.

  “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Scared?” Benbow asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Terrified. I really thought you’d have been able to quash this thing before now.”

  “I tried. It just won’t go away.” Benbow hesitated.

  “Say it,” Megan said. “You’ve already thought it.”

  He looked at her.

  “Body language,” Megan said. “I’m a trained counselor, remember?”

  “I suppose so.” Benbow wiped at his face tiredly. “This should have gone away, Megan. Really, the charges should have been dropped. The provost marshal’s office should have conducted a cursory investigation, churned some paper, and left you alone.”

  “Then why isn’t that happening?”

  “Because General Braddock can’t let the situation go away now.”

  “Why not now? What’s changed?”

  “Boyd Fletcher’s new attorney won’t let the general drop the charges.”

  “This new attorney is going to be involved with the hearing?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “Boyd Fletcher’s new attorney is a civil suit lawyer who specializes in claims against the military.”

  “Civil suit?” Slowly, with terrifying certainty, Megan understood the ramifications of the attorney’s chosen venue.

  “Yes. Fletcher’s attorney plans on suing you and the army, Megan. It’s not part of the criminal trial the military is putting you through. He’s going to sue you for damages for the time Gerry was held at the hospital without his parents’ knowledge.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the army has deep pockets,” Benbow stated. “Fletcher’s specialist, an Atlanta attorney named Arthur Flynn, has been successful in a number of cases against the military.”

  Megan thought she remembered the man’s name from the news, but she couldn’t recall the story or stories.

  “Flynn’s got a big interest in the army’s case against you. General Braddock can’t let the provost marshal’s office dismiss your case because it will look like the post is trying to cover up wrongdoing on their part.”

  “Then why press charges against me?” Megan asked. “If they find me guilty, won’t that make them guilty, too?”

  “Not necessarily.” Benbow shifted, looking terribly young and uncomfortable. “If they find you guilty of dereliction of duty and move on to prove that you were unfit that night, the army can possibly distance themselves from you. They can show good faith that they are dealing with the fact that you were unfit for your job and that they dealt with the matter as soon as it reached their attention. That might be enough to keep the army, Fort Benning, and—probably most of all—General Braddock out of the legal storm that’s headed this way.”

  “That’s what General Braddock wants to do? Distance his post from me?”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.”

  “Not exactly an exhibition of loyalty, is it?”

  Benbow sighed. “No.” He paused. “The thinking is that you’re civilian, Megan. Not military personnel. You’re an acceptable loss. The military is all about acceptable losses.”

  “What about the ‘never leave a man behind’ way of thinking?”

  “General Braddock doesn’t feel that applies to you.”

  “So what happens if this attorney Flynn successfully sues me?”

  “Let’s not think that way.”

  “I have to.”

  Benbow hesitated. “If Fletcher wins his suit against you, you and Goose could lose everything. The retirement you guys have put back. Property you own. And if he gets a judgment against you, you could end up paying him for the rest of your lives.”

  Megan tried to understand all the ramifications. How could everything she and Goose had worked for be taken from them so easily? It wasn’t fair. But she knew judgments like that happened. She’d seen court cases in the news where events had gone exactly as Benbow was describing them.

  Only those people deserved what they got. Didn’t they? Megan forced herself to calm down. “Even if Fletcher got all that, Goose and I aren’t rich. There’s some money, enough to make our lives comfortable, but not enough to interest somebody like this Flynn.”

  “Flynn considers you a stepping-stone. If he gets a judgment against you, he gets a shot at the army. He’s going to try to prove that the post was culpable in the civil matter as well. If Fort Benning hasn’t built a strong enough case against you, he might make it stick.”

  “And if Flynn is successful against me and the army? What does he get?”

  “I don’t know.” Benbow shrugged. “That’s what everyone at the post—and higher up in the military circles—is concerned about. With the present hysteria in the country, with so many people feeling that the disappearances are somehow related to what the American military has done globally, or with President Fitzhugh’s current political stance, a civilian jury could find against Fort Benning. It’s possible they could grant the Fletchers hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars in damages.” Benbow paused. “I’ve heard a rumor that Flynn is willing to settle out of court for one hundred million dollars.”

  Disbelief swept through Megan with paralyzing force. “Because I kept Gerry Fletcher in the hospital without his parents’ knowledge—for an hour?”

  “It was,” Benbow said, “the last hour they would have spent with their son.”

  “They didn’t know that then.” Pain replaced the disbelief as she gazed at the young lieutenant. “I didn’t know that then. I spent the last hour when I could have been playing with my youngest son trying to help Gerry.”

  “I know that.”

  “I gave up that time with Chris.” Saying her son’s name somehow made Boyd Fletcher’s case against her even more hideous. Megan made a fist and pressed it against her mouth in an attempt to control her warring emotions. “I kissed my baby good night and left him. He didn’t want me to go.”

  Chris’s voice haunted her. “I’m just going to sleep for a little while, Mommy, so you can come and get me soon.” Sweet and delicate, despite the fact that he hadn’t wanted to be left in the care center, Chris had curled up, closed his eyes, and pretended to be fast asleep.

  Megan felt her heart break all over again. “I’m never going to see my baby again in this world.”

  “You don’t know that,” Benbow said. “A lot of people are working on what caused the disappearances. Maybe those p
eople, maybe your son, can be brought back.”

  Shaking her head, Megan said, “They’re not coming back. Ever.” Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “See? You don’t even understand what’s happened.”

  “Nobody does,” Benbow agreed. “Not yet, anyway. But we will.”

  Megan wanted to curse and scream. That was something she hadn’t often done. She was so mad and so hurt she trembled and thought she was going to be sick. Jerking her gaze from Benbow, trying desperately to remember that although he wore that uniform, he wasn’t really part of the vast machine presently arrayed against her, she peered through the truck’s windshield.

  Is that what this is coming to, God? she demanded. Is this what You want to do? To tear me completely down? Because if that’s what You’re all set to do, it’s working. How much do You think I have left to give? How much more do You think I can take? She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and tried to hold the tears back. But she couldn’t.

  “Megan—,” Benbow began.

  “Don’t, Lieutenant,” Megan said in a hoarse voice. “Not one word.

  Not till I’m ready.”

  He nodded and sat still on his side of the pickup.

  Megan struggled to keep from crying. She shook with the effort. Her face grew hot and wet. Her vision blurred. She smelled Goose all around her. Then she cursed him for being gone, for not being here when she needed him so much. It was unfair, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. She faulted him for not being here to help her through the court situation, for not being here to help find Joey, and—most of all—for not being here to help her grieve over Chris’s disappearance.

  It’s not Goose’s fault, God. It’s Yours. You’re doing this. I don’t know what I did that was this wrong, so wrong that I deserved this. But I believed in You. Over these past few days, I’ve come to lean on You in ways I never before imagined. Now You’re going to do this to me? to my family? Is this what I get for trusting You? You’re not being fair!

  Gradually, Megan emptied of tears. She didn’t regain control of herself so much as she just ran out of emotion of any kind. She felt dead inside. Her eyes were swollen and puffy in the grayed-out reflection of herself she saw in the windshield.

  All those brave words she’d spoken in Trimble’s office about seeing Chris again didn’t mean a thing. She knew that now. More than anything, she feared she would never see her baby again. God had given her no reason to believe that. She wasn’t asking for proof, just the ability to believe as best she could in peace.