Commanding Sia (NCIS Series Book 1)

by Zoe Dawson

  Commanding Sia

  NCIS Series

  Zoe Dawson

  Commanding Sia (with new content, previously published under a pseudonym)

  Copyright © 2019 by Karen Alarie

  Cover Art © Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  OTHER TITLES BY ZOE DAWSON

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my beta readers, reviewers and editor for helping with this book, and especially Lisa Fournier. As always, you guys are the best.

  To NCIS agents real and imagined. You rock!

  Chapter One

  “Aren’t you Rafael Soto’s sister?”

  Sia bristled. She had been his sister, but that was before he died. Before her heart had been ripped from her chest and nothing remained but a dark hole. Now, she was Lieutenant Commander Ambrosia Soto, U.S. Navy JAG. She was in this drab gray room tucked into the carrier’s fifth deck on official business. It was a good thing she wasn’t here to make friends because she didn’t think Master Chief Steven Walker was acting at all friendly toward her right now.

  He was her number-one suspect in the death of a decorated F/A-18 pilot whose body had been recovered from the bottom of the Pacific, and the man had gone from helpful to belligerent as soon as he discovered who she was. A Navy JAG lawyer often had that effect on guilty people.

  The tone of the man’s voice said he wasn’t a fan of her brother, but highly trained and aggressive fighter pilots were often considered elite jerks by the enlisted.

  Ending up on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific was a common occurrence for a JAG officer. She’d been to many places around the globe, handled all types of legal issues and investigations. She had been on temporary assignment duty, or TAD, investigating another case in San Diego when she’d been ordered to handle this investigation aboard the aircraft carrier USS James McCloud—her brother’s last billet. Being here where her brother lived and worked had thrown her a little, not that she would let him see it. “You can address me as Lieutenant Commander Soto or ma’am.”

  “But you’re his sister, right?”

  “Master Chief, are you not getting my drift? I’m here to ask the questions, not answer them.” She flipped open his file and glanced down. The picture and material were all neatly maintained. She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. “This investigation is about Lieutenant Malcolm Saunders. The Navy suffered the loss of a highly-trained pilot and a seventy-million-dollar aircraft when his F/A-18 Super Hornet plunged into the sea. It’s not social hour.”

  Her sharp words seemed to glance off him. “Yeah, you’d know about fighter jet accidents, wouldn’t you?”

  She shot him a cold look. A smoldering fury burned beneath her skin. She maintained eye contact with Master Chief Walker, refusing to look away as his relentless stare darkened, as if doing so would give her an insight into his soul. She was rewarded as he looked away, but before he did, she saw challenge and the unmistakable look of a liar. She could feel a chill as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She always got that feeling when someone was hiding something. Almost like a sixth sense.

  She picked up his folder and examined his performance reviews, looking for any inconsistencies. “We both know you didn’t get to your rank by being uncooperative, Master Chief.” At her statement, he sat up straighter. “In fact, you have a spotless service record, multiple deployments and significant days at sea. The Navy is your life and you’ve given to it unconditionally.”

  For a moment, deep regret filled his eyes, but when he blinked, they were once again neutral. “I have, sometimes to the detriment of all else.”

  “And the Navy has given back. You head up Maintenance Material Control.”

  “Yes.”

  “Maintenance is the heart of this carrier. Your division is responsible for repairing aircraft and related support equipment.”

  “Yes.”

  “One of the branches you oversee is the avionics division?”

  “I do.”

  “Were there any problems with any part of the systems your people maintain?” She set the file down and closed it.

  For a moment, the master chief sat in silence, but she could see something she’d said caused him concern. But his next words were contrary to the worry he tried to hide. “No. That plane was in tiptop condition.”

  She lifted her brows and tilted her head. “Yet the pilot in the plane ended up at the bottom of the ocean. How do you explain that?”

  “Pilot error.”

  Sia couldn’t help it. She winced and the look on the master chief’s face made Sia want to make him pay for his scored hit. “I’ve been assigned to investigate why we have a dead pilot and pieces of a highly sophisticated aircraft littering the Pacific Ocean. Lieutenant Saunders was in charge of flying the plane. You are in charge of maintaining the plane. He’s not here, therefore, I’m asking you questions. I suggest you answer.” The authority in her voice was unmistakable. The master chief’s lips tightened at her tone.

  “I know I’m responsible for the maintenance of the plane. But you have the logs—”

  “And I’ll inspect them thoroughly, but I want to know what the logs won’t tell me.”

  “It’s all in the logs. The aircraft maintenance was performed on schedule,” he responded stoically. “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

  She wasn’t going to get anything out of him right now. He was guarded and closed. What she needed was leverage, a clue as to why her sixth sense was telling her this man was involved in Saunders’s death. “Thank you. You’re excused, Master Chief.”

  He got to the door, opened it and stopped, his body language aggressive.

  “Why aren’t you looking at pilot error? Are you so sure the pilot didn’t make a mistake?”

  “I run a thorough investigation. I’ll get to the truth of the accident—” She rose and set her hands on the small table she’d been sitting behind. “—my way.”

  “Maybe you have a mental block regarding pilot error, Lieutenant Commander Soto?” he said with a soft, accusing tone.

  Something snapped in Sia. She was across the small compartment and in the master chief’s face before she could stop herself.

  “It’s no secret what happened with my brother, and it’s no secret regarding my insistence for a reopening of the investigation into the incident. I will not have you impugning my integrity. If you do so again, I’ll bring you up on charges. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his anger barely banked.

  “You are dismissed.”

  Sia had been in the JAG Corps long enough to understand respect was due an officer and some of the good ol’ boys left over from the old system didn’t take very well to a woman in command. But with th
e master chief, Sia was sure he had more to hide than his distaste for women in uniform. She had only to prove it.

  Maybe you have a mental block…

  The master chief’s words made her angry all over again. Sia trusted in her brother’s abilities as a pilot. When the JAG who had investigated her brother’s F/A-18 accident cited pilot error, Sia had protested loudly. But it did no good. Then six years later, Sia was in another battle. She petitioned to have her brother’s ashes memorialized at the United States Navy Memorial and was promptly told by the official she talked to it wasn’t possible. Her brother hadn’t died a hero.

  That meant she had to get her brother’s case reopened and that took an appeal to the Secretary of the Navy, or as he was referred to at JAG, SECNAV.

  She didn’t blame the United States Navy Memorial committee. She blamed the wingman who’d flown with her brother—the man with whom she’d had the most explosive, intimate relationship of her life. Even six years later, the thought of him made her heart beat faster and her palms sweat. She didn’t want this reaction, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. That promising relationship had ended with her brother’s fatal accident.

  The loss of her brother had torn her family apart, and she had simply lost everything except work. The JAG Corps and her job sustained her and honed her into a legal killing machine. Focusing her thoughts back to the investigation, she asked the ship’s resident JAG to send in the next person for questioning. In this case, it was the pilot’s wingman.

  The master chief hesitated when he saw Lieutenant Saunders’s wingman standing silently but attentively through their exchange at the door. Then he said something softly under his breath and strode off down the corridor, ducking through the hatch.

  Sia focused on the man in front of her in his crisp khaki uniform and aviator’s flight jacket. “Lieutenant Russell, thank you for your time.”

  “I hope it helps in the investigation.” His voice was subdued, the grief at the loss of his friend obvious on his weary face. Sia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the shiny silver wings he wore above his breast pocket. Memories of her brother’s winging ceremony flooded her thoughts. He had finished flight school and passed his carrier landing qualifications just before the national Tailhook Convention in Reno so he’d had his winging ceremony there. Their dad had put his wings on him in front of hundreds of Naval aviators. Sia’s visions of the celebration, and his ear-to-ear smile, were soon replaced by the dark memories of the day her life exploded in a fiery crash. It was the same day she had lost the man she loved—her brother’s wingman, who had ejected to safety. “Mal and I were more than wing mates. We were best friends.”

  Lieutenant Russell’s graveled voice brought her back to the present. “I am very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  He stepped into the compartment as she shut the door. She indicated the chair in front of the table. “Have a seat.”

  When he was settled and she’d taken her own seat again, she asked, “Can you tell me about Lieutenant Saunders’s state of mind yesterday before his jet crashed into the ocean?”

  He smiled, his eyes brightening. “He was psyched. We always were when we got to fly.”

  Sia leaned back in her chair. “Anything happen that was out of the ordinary?”

  Lieutenant Russell frowned. “With Mal? No, it was just another day in paradise.”

  “Did he mention not feeling well? Any personal problems?”

  “No.”

  Sia thought for a moment before asking, “Did he have any problems with the crew on the carrier? Enemies? Someone who may have had a beef with him?”

  Lieutenant Russell paused for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak. “The only thing that happened wasn’t out of the ordinary.”

  “What is that?”

  He sighed. “Master Chief Walker always seemed to be in Mal’s face.”

  “They didn’t get along?”

  “No, the master chief was always using what we like to call good-natured ribbing to put him down, and Mal just ignored his behavior.”

  “Do you know why Master Chief Walker had this perspective?” Sia asked.

  “No, ma’am. It seemed to manifest from the first day Mal and I were assigned to this ship.”

  Sia looked down at the open folder. “I don’t see any reprimands in Master Chief Walker’s file.”

  Lieutenant Russell shrugged. “No, it wasn’t like that. Mal held his own. He told me he didn’t need to tattle to Navy Command because an enlisted sailor didn’t like him. He was as perplexed as I was as to why the master chief immediately singled him out for abuse. We revere master chiefs in the Navy. They know just about every damn thing there is to know. We just didn’t get it.”

  “He should have reported him.”

  Lieutenant Russell’s shoulders drooped as his voice grew strained. “I agree, ma’am. But Mal is… I mean, Mal wasn’t concerned with it.”

  “Is there any other information you can provide that might help the investigation?”

  He hesitated and looked down as he ran his fingers along the brim of his hat, debating.

  “Anything,” she prompted. “No matter how small and insignificant.”

  He looked up. The anguish on his face twisted Sia’s heart. Her memories were still painful, as if her brother had died yesterday instead of six years ago. Fresh pain flooded through her.

  “Lieutenant Russell?”

  “I hope I’m not talking out of turn, ma’am, but I saw Master Chief Walker near Mal’s coffee before we took off.”

  “In the wardroom? Enlisted personnel aren’t allowed in there,” Sia said.

  “No, Mal was just about to step onto the flight deck, and he was finishing it off in the communications room. He put his coffee down to sign the flight plan.” He set his cover on the table and leaned forward, his voice dropping. “I don’t want to accuse him of tampering with it, but Mal was a top-notch aviator and there’s no way in hell he would have downed that plane like that.”

  “I will need you to sign a sworn statement, are you willing to do that, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, ma’am. If it will help find out what happened to Mal, I will.” He held her gaze and never wavered, clearly a man who was dedicated to both his friend and the Navy.

  Sia dismissed Lieutenant Russell and moved quickly. She contacted the captain via the ship’s phone and requested a search authorization for Master Chief Walker’s rack, citing the evidence from Lieutenant Russell’s statement. With his permission, Sia made her way to the master chief’s quarters with a burly master-at-arms in tow. Once inside, she methodically searched his locker. She found nothing. Sure that she had missed something, she started the search once again. As she went through his underwear and socks, she was about to give up. Her hand brushed against a sock and she felt a hard lump. Fishing out the sock, Sia pulled the garments apart and a bottle fell out onto the deck. Reaching down, she picked it up. When she turned the label toward her, she found she held an over-the-counter product for irregularity. Her brows furrowed as she looked down at the bright yellow bottle. Why was this in his sock drawer and not in the medicine cabinet? Then it dawned on her. He was trying to hide it.

  She would have the contents of the bottle analyzed against anything that was in Lieutenant Saunders’s bloodstream. She could be holding the murder weapon in her hand. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and goose bumps ran along her back and arms.

  Detaining Master Chief Walker was the next step and talking to the medical examiner who was doing the autopsy right away. She needed the results of the toxicology report sooner rather than later.

  The asked the master-at-arms to follow her as she headed to the legal office to log the evidence and contact the ME. She dismissed the master-at-arms once the evidence was secured.

  Sia sat at her desk and looked over her notes. She needed to talk to Lieutenant Russell again and ask if anyone else was in the communications room during the time he
believed Master Chief Walker was around the pilot’s coffee. When there was a knock at the door, Sia rose to open it. The sea rolled, and as the carrier dipped, she lost her balance and got turned around. The door slipped out of her hands. When it popped open, someone shoved her from behind hard enough to send her face-first against the far bulkhead of the office. Her head struck metal with a clanging sound that reverberated against her skull, rattling her brain. Stars exploded behind her eyes. Before she could recover from the suddenness of the push, her assailant hit her with a stunning blow to the back of the head, and Sia fell into darkness.

  When she woke up, she could taste blood in her mouth and smell the sea air. She opened one eye, but the other one, swollen and throbbing, took a bit longer. She focused on a man sitting cross-legged in front of her. Unlike her, he was dressed for the weather and the rough seas. Along with his outerwear, he had taken precautions and donned a bright orange life vest. Her hands were tied with a piece of rope in a knot that any sailor would know and that was impossible to untie. Fear sliced through her like the icy wind that battered her hair and exposed skin. She’d never been this open to the elements on the carrier, and it seemed as if they could touch the dark, clouded night sky.

  “Master Chief.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong, and your actions have caused me to remember my duty. I’m sorry about this, but you’ll have to die.”

  “Your duty?” Sia spat. “Murdering an officer is your duty?”

  “I can’t let you reopen old wounds. Your brother’s accident was pilot error just like Saunders’s accident.” He raised his hand and shook the bottle.

  Sia shifted and studied the determined man before her. He wasn’t joking when he said he would kill her. She tried to figure a way out of this. Screaming wouldn’t help—no one would hear her over the sound of the rushing waves and the carrier’s engines. All she could do was keep him talking in the rare chance someone would find them. Besides, he wasn’t telling her everything. She got that prickly feeling, only this time more urgently. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was in a terrible position or because this was bigger than just Lieutenant Saunders’s crash.