Abigail stuffed her laptop and portfolio into her backpack, which doubled as her briefcase. After switching off her light, she headed down the hall. First, she peeped into Sal’s office. He’d already left for the day.
And Marti? She had stacked four boxes neatly in the hall and sat staring at her computer screen.
Abigail tapped on the door. “Hey, girl.”
Her sergeant cocked a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “What’s up?”
“Want to do supper tonight?”
“Just say where.”
“Dock and Grill at 1745 hours. I’m going to have Gabe meet us at 1800 hours.”
“Works for me.”
“I’ll see you then.” She continued down the hall, crossed through an empty conference room, and paused when she entered the hall for the Computer Crimes Unit. Nate stepped from his office. “’Night, Abigail.”
“See ya later.” The more vague, the better. She watched him go, then continued down the hall. The light to Gabe’s office was still on. She paused and tapped on the doorframe. “Gabe, hey.”
He glanced at her. “What’s up?”
“You got anything going on tonight?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Baseball.”
“You mind watching at the Dock and Grill? Want to meet Marti and me around 1800 hours? Marti’s coming a little earlier for some girl time.”
“Should I ask about the girl time?”
“Wedding stuff.”
His eyes lit up. “Whew. Good. I’ll miss that. Yeah. I’ll see you there.”
She left and headed outside. One more stop. Then after supper, maybe she’d have the people in place to run two investigations at once, one covert and one overt.
7
Monday, April 17, 2017, 1730 hours EDT, Quantico, VA
Using a small pair of binoculars, Sal peered at the parking lot of Abigail’s apartment complex from his hiding place in a stand of trees. After giving the impression he’d left for the day, he hid in the janitor’s closet, and now he knew Abigail’s plans down to the minute. Dock and Grill at 1745 hours. He knew the place well. She’d need ten minutes to get there. And Major Abigail Ward was never late.
Like clockwork, a tall, lithe shadow darkened the third-floor landing of her building, turned, and trotted down the steps. A few seconds later, Abigail emerged from the stairwell and climbed into her navy blue Honda Accord. She pulled out of the parking lot toward the gated entrance.
Time to act. Sal scaled the complex’s dark green chain link fence and dropped to the pine straw with the grace of a panther. With one eye on the parking lot’s entrance, he strolled toward Abigail’s building as if he had every right to head toward Apartment 3281. Once at the door, he scanned the interior through the side windows before ringing the doorbell.
No one answered.
And no alarm signs.
Not needed in this area.
With nitrile gloves on his hands, he removed a small set of lock picks from a pocket of his ACU jacket. It took only a minute or so for him to get through both locks.
He stepped into Abigail’s abode. He’d been here before—except with Rita, his wife, during a party and certainly not by himself via lock pick. He strolled past a low shoe rack containing a pair of clogs and flip-flops. As he headed into the guest room, which doubled as her study, he kept one ear on the door. Nothing of interest in there or in the guest bathroom.
Stepping into the living room, he passed over Oriental carpets undoubtedly garnered during one of her many trips to the Middle East. His fingers drifted along the smooth granite surface of a bar separating the kitchen from the dining area. At the back was the master suite with both a sliding glass door and French doors overlooking a wraparound balcony.
Like the living room, it favored an eclectic mix of Middle Eastern and antique furnishings. Not a wrinkle dared cross the queen-sized bed that occupied one wall. Gauzy material graced the top frame. One door opened to a walk-in closet. Her uniforms took up one side. Civilian clothing lined the other with shoes in cubbyholes sitting on top of a safe at the back. Another door led to the bathroom. He crept inside. Again, neatly kept. He’d expect nothing less from a career Army officer.
A bolt in a lock slid back.
She’d returned.
Sal’s heart raced. Where could he hide? He’d be exposed on the balcony facing the creek. Forget behind a shower curtain in the bathtub since it had a glass door. Where, then?
The portion of the balcony facing the woods since it wrapped around the corner of the building. He undid the lock of the sliding glass door and slipped outside. A small crack between the door and frame remained. He cringed.
“Sorry about that.” Abigail had stepped inside the bedroom. “I remembered that purse I wanted you to have.”
He caught a glimpse of her laughing as she listened to someone on the other end of the phone.
Sal inched as close as he dared to the edge of the door.
“On my way... a spot outside is fine. Hmm. I must not have closed the sliding door all the way.”
He jerked back.
It thumped shut, and the lock clicked.
Growling distracted him. Next door, a Bichon Frise started barking. He tried a smile. “Good boy. You’re a good boy.”
The barking continued.
“Harry, get back in here!” a woman called.
The dog bounded inside.
He swore to himself and considered his situation. A prominent lieutenant colonel in line for promotion, now caught on the balcony outside of his subordinate’s abode. He could see the scandalous headlines now, especially if that dog showed up again and the neighbor came out.
Time to get back inside. Utilizing his lock picks, he returned to the bedroom. This time, he wouldn’t delay. He reached into the pocket of his ACU jacket and came up with a pack of Ankara cigarettes, a Turkish brand that contained cloves. He’d found it after a stop at a specialty tobacco store near base. Using the lighter he’d bought, he lit one up and puffed as he walked around the apartment. He stabbed it out in the sink of her bathroom and made his way to the living room as he smoked another one for good measure. On his way out, he dropped the butt on her welcome mat.
With luck, his act had sown mistrust with the ones Abigail would call allies.
Monday, April 17, 2017, 1755 hours EDT, Quantico, VA
“Here’s the purse.” Abigail slid onto a bar chair opposite Marti at a high table along the deck railing at the Dock and Grill, which overlooked the Potomac. She placed a plastic bag on the top.
Marti’s dark eyes lit up when she pulled out a white purse with iridescent beading. “This is beautiful!”
“It was my mother’s.” A small lump began in Abigail’s throat as she thought about Mama. “She’d want you to have it.”
Marti’s expression softened. “Then it’s definitely my something borrowed. Your mom had good taste.”
“She did, and I want you to have it since I’m most likely going to die a spinster.”
Marti shook her head. “Abigail, no. No can do because I think you’re selling yourself short.”
Abigail shrugged. “So says you.”
“Well, we’ll table that since we’re running out of our girl time.” Marti shifted and leaned her elbows on the table. “Marvin and I have set our date.”
“For when?”
“Thirty September. I’ll,” she fiddled with her wine glass, “be retiring at the end of the year since I’ll have my twenty in.”
“Wow.” Abigail shook her head at the big change coming. “Tha-that’s great. But boy, I’m going to miss having you as my right-hand woman.”
A quick smile flashed across Marti’s lips. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. We’ve still got time together.”
Abigail nodded because emotion choked her words.
Marti sighed. “Look. I know it’s a surprise. But Marvin and I both realized how fortunate we were to reconnect.”
Marti and Marvin had been frien
ds since junior high. This would be a second marriage for both, and Marti would become step-mom to two wonderful children. “And I’m happy for you. Truly.”
“Thanks.” Marti’s smile became dreamy. She straightened. “I do have a question for you.”
Abigail cocked an eyebrow.
“Marvin and I have no sisters, and between us four brothers. Which means I’m hard up for bridesmaids. Would you be willing to be my maid of honor?”
Her last vestiges of sadness fled. “Oh, Marti, wow!”
“Seriously. I mean, you’re more than just my CO. You’re my friend, and you’re probably one of the ones who knows me best of all—besides Marvin, that is. I mean, who else has seen me first thing in the morning without makeup?”
They both laughed.
“I’d be honored. Not even a moment of hesitation. But so long as you don’t mind if I trip on my dress.”
“Nope.”
“Or say something dumb.”
Marti shook her head as a smile twitched the corners of her mouth upward.
“Or wear my food at the reception.”
“You, my friend, are a piece of work.”
“Yup. Like a fine Monet painting.” At that, they both guffawed.
“Hey, did I miss all of the fun?” Gabe asked as he took a seat beside Abigail.
She simmered down. “We were talking about Marti’s impending nuptials. I’m her maid of honor.”
Gabe grinned. “You? Don’t trip on your dress.”
That got them chuckling again until Abigail remembered why they’d gathered.
Talk about knocking a mood from merry to morbid in seconds. She took a deep breath and released it. “Thanks for coming.”
“What’s up that you needed to see us both?” Marti undid her napkin and silverware.
“And why aren’t we getting an Abigail meal out of this?” Gabe asked.
Her shoulders tensed. “Because I’m leaving tomorrow, and this has explosive potential.”
Marti’s brow knitted. “Keep it away from hearth and home, huh? As in, you’re worried your abode might be bugged?”
“Call me paranoid. And I can’t talk about this at the office.”
Marti shook her head. “Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm. This is serious.”
“Why so?” Gabe asked.
Abigail remained silent. Where would she even start to explain this tangled situation? “It’s really two for the price of one.”
When the waitress took the ladies’ food order, Gabe called for a beer.
Abigail frowned. “You’re not eating?”
“I was famished when I left work, so I had some leftover pasta.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “You care to explain?”
Abigail checked around them.
“You’re clear,” Marti murmured. “No one’s around.”
“Here’s the official case.” Abigail filled them in on her discovery related to the annihilation of the Mighty Men. “I’ve gotten Sal’s permission to run down leads related to this.”
Marti tapped her fingers against her chin. “Sounds to me like you might be on to something.”
“I know. I wish we’d not missed this.”
Marti replied, “It was a long time ago. And from what you said, you were slammed.”
“I think everyone was,” Gabe added. “Managing two wars, though one was winding down. Not to mention the everyday stuff. It was an easy miss, I’m sure.”
Abigail sipped her wine. “Yeah, but that’s not what worries me.”
“What does?” he asked.
She shrugged. “You remember last year, right? The Athena file?”
Gabe nodded. “You mentioned that at lunch today.”
“When I first brought it to Sal’s attention last year, I offered to take it on since Jonathan had mentioned it to me.” She shivered at the memory of her CO’s sharp gaze. “Sal got pissed off at me.”
Marti set her wine down. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” His threat rang in her ears. “He pretty much said he’d assigned the case to CCU and if I meddled in it even by asking about it, he’d write me up for insubordination. I don’t need that in my file after being passed over once.”
At that bit of news, Gabe shifted so he faced Abigail with one elbow resting on the table, the other on the back of his chair. His eyes, a light brown in the sun’s fading light, clouded. He faced forward again and took a swig of beer before setting his bottle down on the scarred wood. “You mean to tell me your CO lied to you about giving the case to my unit? And threatened you while at it?”
“Uh, something like that.”
He muttered under his breath. “Which you realized when I texted you about your request.”
“Yeah.” Abigail swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Gabe, I never should have—”
“No, no. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I’m just”—he swept a hand through his dark hair—“confused. Why would he do that?”
Just two days before, Nabeelah had warned her, “You may not see it now, but you will. Things are not as they seem, Major Abigail Ward. In your past. In your present. They endanger your future. That of you, your brother, and Sergeant David. Beware.” I hear you, Nabeelah. A theory formed in her mind, one she hated even to consider. Before she lost her courage, she voiced it. “I think Sal had something to do with swiping the Athena file.”
She clamped her jaw shut when the waitress brought their food. The smile she gave the girl, felt fake and brittle, like it would break and shatter on her.
“Whoa.” Marti didn’t move. “That’s quite a statement.”
“I know.” Abigail grabbed the ketchup bottle and began slapping the bottom of it. “It’s horrible. I probably never should have voiced it. And—”
“Stop, will you?” Gabe jerked back as ketchup went flying everywhere. “You want to decorate us?”
The red liquid had landed on the table and all over Abigail’s jacket. She set the glass bottle down with a clunk. The drops of scarlet suddenly reminded her of blood. She snatched up an extra napkin, dipped it in water, and scrubbed the leather.
“Easy there, Abigail.” Gabe gently pried the napkin from her fingers and set it on the table. “You’ve gotten worked up over this.”
She stared at her plate. “I don’t want to be right. I mean, maybe I’ve gotten it all wrong. Sal’s been such a good CO. When he took over in 2011, he brought everyone in the battalion together in ways the previous CO hadn’t.”
Gabe nodded at that.
She continued, “He’s been a great mentor. And a good officer. He’s also somewhat of a friend. You don’t know how badly I want to be wrong on this.”
Marti popped a shrimp into her mouth and chewed as she gazed at her commanding officer. She swallowed and did the same with another one. Finally, she spoke. “Remember the Colonel Boone case?”
Abigail shuddered. Weeks of being on the road, the horror of the crimes committed, and the number of victims. “Of course.”
Gabe nabbed a fry from Abigail’s plate. “I do too. Boy, I don’t think I’ve ever sifted through so much data before. I can’t imagine what that would have been like without a computer.”
“Colonel Boone was a soldier’s soldier,” Marti added. “He had the perfect wife until they divorced right before the killings started. Perfect children. A West Pointer. Golden child. Destined to be general. Yet he had a whole other life no one knew about, and it was nasty.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Gabe muttered something under his breath. “That case creeped me out.”
Abigail winced. “It creeped everyone out.”
Once more, he held her gaze. Nothing but kindness there. “If we investigate and it’s not true, then we let it rest and destroy all of our work.” Without breaking his gaze, he lifted his beer to his lips. “And if we investigate and it is true, we’ve unmasked someone who betrayed our country and swiped a classified file from a secure server.”
Abigail cringed. “And we still get ourselves in the cr
osshairs because we’ve shot down a rising star. Career enders no matter which one we choose. We succeed, his benefactors can take us down. We fail, and we’re prosecuted for countermanding a direct order.”
Marti asked, “Is Sal a West Pointer like Colonel Boone?”
Abigail nodded. “With eyes on being general one day. And maybe more beyond that.”
Marti picked up her wine goblet. “Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm. I guess it’s a good thing I’m retiring at the end of the year.”
Abigail sipped her own glass of Chardonnay and stared over the water of the creek running into the Potomac. So calm and peaceful, unlike the turmoil she’d introduced into her life as well as those of her two friends.
Finally, her sergeant spoke. “Abigail, look. We’re truth seekers, right? You’ve told me that a lot. Truth is out there. So are lies. It’s up to us to unmask the lies and reveal the truth.”
She couldn’t argue. Once upon a time, Sal had told her the same thing.
“Then that’s what we do.” Marti fixed Gabe in her gaze. “We hope we’re wrong, right, Gabe?”
He nodded.
Her sergeant faced her. “I’m in. No matter what. Gabe?”
He raised his bottle in salute. “Count me in too.”
A little relief peeked through Abigail’s worry and buoyed her waning courage. “You don’t know how much I appreciate hearing that.”
“What’s our first step?” Gabe asked.
“I got you two a present.” Abigail handed them both phones.
Marti grinned in what was probably an attempt to lighten the somber mood. “Girl, you didn’t have to.”
Gabe slid his into his jacket pocket. “Burner phone?”
“To communicate about our Athena file investigation. I’ve programmed my number into those. Anything related to that particular investigation, use those phones. For the Mighty Men investigation, I’ll open the official file in the morning before I leave. Marti, I’ll brief you then. Gabe, I’m going to need your help for computer work.”
“I’m on it.”
Abigail took a deep breath. “Regarding the Athena file investigation, you can say no, and I won’t fault either of you.”
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