by Kaki Warner
“Damage control,” Dalton muttered.
“What’s an Article 32 hearing?” Raney glanced from KD to her husband. “Is that bad?”
“It’s a preliminary hearing to determine if charges should be brought,” Dalton explained.
“Charges against KD?” Mama was aghast. “For what?”
“She hasn’t been charged with anything,” Dalton assured her. “It’s like an inquest. That’s all.”
“I don’t understand,” Mama said. “What do they think you did, KD, other than protect an abused child?”
KD explained that they were trying to determine if she and the captain willfully violated the look-the-other-way policy by confronting Farid. “That wasn’t our intent, of course. We only went there to talk to him. But it got out of control so fast.”
“This is bullshit!” Raney turned to Dalton, blue eyes flashing with outrage. “We have to do something! We can’t let them railroad my little sister!”
“They won’t.” Dalton cupped his big hand against his wife’s cheek and looked into her eyes. “Stop worrying, sweetheart. I’ve got this.”
“But—”
“Trust me.” He smiled.
Amazing, the cooling effect that smile had on her sister.
Turning back to KD, he asked if they’d assigned someone from JAG to her case yet.
“The CID guy texted me a name. Said he’s the best. I already called him and requested him as my counsel.”
“Well, I don’t understand any of it,” Mama broke in. “Why would they put you through all this, KD? You were protecting an innocent child!”
KD tried to explain, even though she was confused, too. “There have been similar incidents before, although no one was killed. Warrant Officer Murdock thinks the brass is only pursuing it because they’re afraid of a PR problem. Or maybe because Khalil Farid, the father of the dead Afghan officer, is determined to clear his son’s name. He’s even insisted on coming to the hearing.”
“Then I’m coming, too,” Dalton said.
“We all are!” Mama shot from her chair.
KD tried to pull her back, but she was already out of reach. The last thing she needed was Mama getting involved. “That’s not necessary, Mama. Really.”
“Of course it is. When is it? And where?”
“I’m serious, Mama. There’s no need for you to come.”
“Don’t be silly. Dalton can drive me.”
“What about me?” Raney demanded. “I’m going, too.”
“You shouldn’t wear yourself out, dear.” Mama gave her an indulgent smile. “And who would look after the ranch? Dalton, convince her. I’ll make arrangements for rooms in Killeen. When did you say the hearing was, KD?”
KD sighed in defeat. Although it would add to the confusion with Mama and Dalton there, she wouldn’t mind their support, as long as Mama didn’t cause a scene. “A week from tomorrow. I’ll find out the time from my JAG lawyer next week. In any case, I’ll be staying in Killeen until the hearing is over.”
“Be sure to tell him we’re coming, too,” Mama said, already in planning mode. “And that we’ll be happy to testify to whatever he wants us to. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make.”
As soon as Mama had disappeared into the kitchen, KD rounded on her sister and brother-in-law. “None of you should come. I doubt I could talk Mama out of it, but you definitely shouldn’t come, Raney. Especially now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, please. I may not know Dalton all that well, but I know you, big sister. All those solicitous glances and ‘Be careful, sweethearts’ he gives you? You hate being babied as much as I do. And the food you’ve been putting away—gag! Since when do you eat fried bologna sandwiches?”
“So?”
“So you either have worms or you’re pregnant.”
Raney frowned at Dalton. “I told you she’d figure it out. She’s the smart one.”
KD threw her hands up in exasperation. “Everybody’s figured it out, Raney! Mama, most of all. Can’t you tell you’re her new favorite daughter?”
“Crap. After seeing the way she hovered over Joss when she was pregnant, I wanted to wait at least until I was showing.”
“Now that our secret is out,” Dalton said, studying KD in that intrusive way he had. “Why don’t you tell us yours?”
KD tried to signal him to drop it with a sidewise glance at Raney.
He didn’t buy it. “No secrets, KD. Your sister and I made a pact before we got married—no matter what, there would be no more secrets between us.”
“More?” KD asked, hoping to get him off track.
“What’s really going on, KD?”
She slumped back in her chair. “I was afraid this would happen. If I tell you, you can’t say anything to Mama. Promise.” She waited for them to nod, then told them about Khalil Farid’s threats and his insistence on coming to the hearing.
Raney grabbed her husband’s arm. “We have to do something, Dalton!”
“No, you don’t,” KD cut in. “Murdock texted me that he’s already arranging for the MPs at Hood to keep an eye on Khalil Farid and me during the hearing. But just to be safe, I don’t want that lunatic knowing anything about my family, who you are, where you live, anything. That’s why you shouldn’t come to the hearing, Dalton. I need you here to watch over Raney and Mama. Okay?”
“Not okay,” Dalton said. “I want to talk to this Murdock. Have him call me. Meanwhile, we can hire people for both here and Fort Hood.”
“See?” KD waved a hand in exasperation. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. It’s not me I’m worried about. I’ll be on a base surrounded by thousands of highly trained soldiers. But y’all are stuck out here with only a few workers and some old hunting rifles.”
“And my Glock,” Raney put in.
KD ignored that. “You’re the ones at risk! You have no protection out here. You’d be sitting ducks.”
“No protection?” Dalton smiled at his wife. “I think she just insulted me.”
“She did,” Raney agreed. “I’m shocked she would do such a thing.”
“Oh, stop, you two. I’m serious.”
“So am I.” No longer smiling, Dalton said in clipped tones, “You’re forgetting I did two tours in Iraq, KD. I know how to protect your mother and Raney and the ranch. And don’t sell our workers short. Old man Harvey was a marine sniper. He’s still got the eyes for it. And Alejandro is handy with a rifle, too. As are the others. They’re family. All our people are. And nobody comes after our family. End of discussion.”
“I love it when he’s forceful,” Raney told KD with a dreamy smile at her husband.
“I think I may hurl,” KD muttered.
Raney bounded to her feet. “Now that we’ve finished the talk, why don’t we check out the leftovers. I’m starved.” At KD’s look of disbelief, since they had only finished Sunday lunch two hours earlier, Raney patted her still-flat stomach. “I may not show it, but I am eating for two, you know.”
“And doing a damned fine job of it, sweetheart,” Dalton assured her as he followed her toward the kitchen. “C’mon, KD, before she eats it all.”
* * *
* * *
Exhausted from the emotional afternoon, KD was too tired to make the five-hour drive to Killeen that evening, so she went to bed early and slept surprisingly well. By dawn, Monday morning, she was making the turn at Gunther, heading south toward Fort Hood. By late morning, she had checked into the Barkley Suites in Killeen, and was driving through the main gate at the Fort Hood army base on her way to her final appointment with the surgeon.
It didn’t take long. Apparently, her body was healing faster than her mind.
Thirty minutes later, when she’d left the Carl R. Darnall Army Medical Center—or CRDAMC, the military acronym
—she stepped into a day as dry and blindingly bright as any she had seen in Afghanistan. Squinting into the glare, she walked as briskly as her hip would allow toward the parking area.
“Hey, Lieutenant,” a voice called. “Wait up.”
A familiar voice. Low and slightly husky, like a smoker’s, but without the roughness. She hadn’t expected to hear it so soon, and the sound of it gave her whole body a jolt. She thought he wasn’t due at Hood until later in the week.
Turning carefully so she didn’t pull herself off balance, she watched Murdock walk toward her, an army duffle over his shoulder. He was dressed in what he’d worn the first time she’d seen him at the hospital in Germany. Black ball cap with CID above the bill, black polo, khakis, gun and badge on his belt. This time he also wore mirrored aviators so she couldn’t see his dark blue eyes, but that broad, white-toothed grin she definitely remembered. It made her a little short of breath, but not in a panicky way.
As he drew closer, she resisted stepping back, a bit intimidated by his size. She had never stood next to him and hadn’t realized he was so big. Not quite as tall as Dalton, but every bit as broad.
“You found me,” she said, wondering how he’d done it so quickly. She hadn’t been on base for more than an hour.
“I told you I would.”
She smiled, not sure how to respond. For all that she was one of the privileged Whitcomb girls and a debutante of Gunther County, she wasn’t as socially adept as her sisters were. Probably from lack of interest. “When did you get in?”
“This morning on an early transport. Since you said you were seeing the doctor, I came straight here. Do I get the job?”
“I’ll need a character reference. And not one from your parents,” she warned.
“I doubt they’d give me one anyway. Where you headed?”
“My car.”
“I’ll walk with you. I hope it’s air-conditioned. It’s hotter than the hinges of hell out here.”
“Welcome to summer in Texas.”
He didn’t rush her, but kept pace with her slower progress. “You’re moving well,” he observed. “The hip must be healing.”
“So the doctor says. He released me to begin the next phase of physical fitness training.” She wasn’t looking forward to it. After losing weight and muscle mass from three weeks of inactivity, she had a long way to go. The APFT—Army Physical Fitness Test—had been grueling enough when she’d been whole and in shape.
“I heard they’re coming up with an alternative test for soldiers with permanent injuries. Maybe they’ll let you take that.”
She shook her head. “Won’t be available until the end of 2020. Until then, they’re sticking with the deploy-or-out policy. I have a year to pass, or go before the Medical Evaluation Board.”
“You’re tough. If you want it, you’ll pass.”
“Maybe.” But do I want it?
The thought shocked her. It was the first time KD had ever considered being anything but an army officer since her first day of high school when she’d seen the ROTC notice on the bulletin board outside the registrar’s office. She wanted to stay in the army. But doing what? Even if she retained active status, she might be posted to a desk job somewhere. A dead-end desk job. And that was assuming she got past the Article 32 hearing. With a black mark like that against her, she would have limited promotion options. For sure, no Pentagon or laurel leaves.
When they reached the Camry, she unlocked it and tossed her bag in back.
“Nice car,” Murdock said as she closed the rear door.
“My sister’s. She’s letting me use it while she’s on tour.” Seeing his look of surprise, she clarified. “Musical tour. Not military. She’s an almost nearly semifamous country singer and songwriter.”
“Ah. Any good?”
That grin was addictive. Good thing he didn’t use it often. “Very much so. But it’s a tough business. Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
“Not sure where I’m staying. You staying on base?”
“I rented a room with a kitchen in Killeen.” With her sleep disruptions, KD didn’t want to stay in the crowded visiting officers’ quarters. Or explain to people why she was at Hood.
It was hot, standing by the car. She could feel sweat forming on her back, and saw beads of it gathering on Murdock’s neck. It was a nice neck.
She should probably go. And do what? Sit in an empty room, staring at the walls and feeling sorry for herself? She’d done too much of that lately. “You want to get lunch?’ she asked on impulse.
“It’s barely ten o’clock.”
“Whatever.” She reached for the driver’s side door handle.
“But I know a quiet little diner that serves great pie and coffee,” he said before she could open the door. “We could go over notes for the hearing.”
Not something she wanted to do. But at least she wouldn’t be alone. “You drive.”
He tossed his duffle in back, then followed her to the other side of the car. Reaching around her, he opened the passenger door. “Need help?”
“Sitting down? No, I think I can manage.”
“Smartass.” But he said it with that grin. Which made her grin, too.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, he glanced over at her with a smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “So is this like . . . a date?”
“You don’t have to pay my way, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m more worried about what to do. I haven’t been on a date in a long time.”
“People don’t go on dates anymore.” At least, she didn’t. She got together with friends, met up with a fellow officer for coffee or a movie every now and then, had a poignant goodbye hookup with a guy she’d gone out with during her last year at West Point. But living in close quarters with hundreds of other soldiers didn’t leave much time for “dating” in the traditional sense. “And anyway,” she added, “I never go on a date unless I know the guy’s first name, at least.”
He surprised her, like he had in the hospital, by laughing out loud. A warm, appealing, masculine chuckle that brought a clench to her chest.
“Richard. Richard Milton Murdock. The Third.”
“Impressive.”
“Pretentious.”
He stopped at the gate. They showed their active duty IDs to the gate guard, who waved them through, then he turned toward Copperas Cove, rather than Killeen. “Why do you call yourself KD? What’s wrong with Katherine Diane?”
“Not pretentious enough,” she said. “I changed it to KD after I signed up for Army ROTC. Sounded more decisive. Less girly.”
“I like girly.”
“Of course you do. You’re a guy. But I’d prefer to be admired for my skill set, rather than my ass.”
“Too bad. You’re admired for both.”
The diner was a quaint little family eatery with a retro feel to it. Formica-topped tables, soda fountain, booths and chairs with plastic-covered seats and chrome legs. There were even checkered gingham café curtains at the front windows. Like stepping through a time warp. KD and Richard were the youngest customers, but instead of a Happy Days look-alike, their waitress was a gum-popping, purple-haired high school kid wearing more makeup than KD had bought in the last year. Overall, a nice change from institutional furniture, gray walls, and camo BDUs. The pie was homemade and delicious, and in deference to the temperature on the other side of the window by their booth, they both opted for iced tea, instead of coffee. Which was freshly brewed and also delicious.
Having gotten past the initial awkwardness and moving beyond rank to first names, KD found Richard Murdock surprisingly good company. Smart, funny, confident, and easy to talk to. Until he asked how she was doing and if the group therapy was helping.
CHAPTER 7
Richard knew immediately he had overstepped. He could feel her bac
king away. Not physically, although she did put down her fork and push aside the plate with her unfinished pie. But he knew the signs, saw it in the way her mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed. He was a trained observer, after all.
“How did you know about the group therapy?” she asked in a voice as warm as sunlight on snow. “You’ve seen my medical file, as well as my service file? What else have you been checking up on?”
“I don’t have access to your medical file. And I haven’t been checking up on you. I assumed. Therapy is customary for soldiers who’ve been shot.”
She turned her head and looked out the window. “I don’t have PTSD, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”
“I wasn’t. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of if you do.”
“I don’t.” She continued to watch the traffic passing by, her jaw so tight he could see the pulse beat in her temple.
He waited.
After a long silence, she turned back to him and said, “The doctor said my symptoms are inconsistent with a PTSD diagnosis. I have acute anxiety disorder, instead. But I’m coping.”
He heard the sharp edge of challenge in her voice and thought again how easy . . . and foolish . . . it would be to underestimate this woman.
He lifted his glass. “Then here’s to coping.” He waited her out, his glass raised between them, until she finally raised hers.
“To coping,” she said and tapped the edge of her glass against his.
Richard understood people fairly well, partly due to his training, but also through observation. He could usually tell when they were lying, or being evasive, or when they were afraid. When he was in PsyOps, he’d learned about body language, autonomic responses, and a host of other “tells.” He’d spent countless hours in interrogation, studying eye movements and hand gestures and voice inflection. And based on what he’d learned and what instinct told him, he realized now that he’d made a lot of incorrect assumptions about Second Lieutenant KD Whitcomb.
She was an angry woman. Yet he sensed it wasn’t her normal outlook.
