Stranded (Military Investigations)

by Debby Giusti

“I’ve got my truck.” He pointed to where it was parked on the far side of the Amish store.

  If only she had noticed the vehicle earlier. She would have turned around and returned to Evelyn’s house and not attempted to search her car while Frank was in the area.

  Hindsight wouldn’t help her now.

  She walked purposefully toward the pickup with Frank following close behind.

  Duke stared at her from inside the cab. Frank reached around her and opened the passenger door. “Down, boy.”

  The dog jumped onto the gravel driveway. Colleen slipped into the passenger seat.

  Once Duke was secured in the back of the pickup, Frank returned to the barn and stretched crime scene tape around her car. Her heart skittered in her chest. The yellow tape made everything that had happened today even more real. She raked fingers through her thick curls. What had she been thinking, trying to cover up information from the authorities?

  Her eyes burned. She clenched her fists, blinking back the tears. She needed to be strong. If she broke down, Frank would think she had something to hide.

  Walking back to his truck, he raised his cell phone to his ear. Was he answering a call or making one? To local law enforcement perhaps?

  Would the police be waiting for her at Evelyn’s house? She bit her lip and looked into the darkness. How had she gotten into this predicament when all she wanted was to talk sense into Vivian and gather more evidence against Trey?

  Frank rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat. His long, lean body hardly fit in the confined space. She tried to imagine him bulked up. Perhaps he wouldn’t seem as menacing then. Somehow his pensive expression and hollowed cheeks gave him a frosty appearance that was less than approachable.

  He turned the key in the ignition. Colleen was glad for the rumble of the engine and the sound of the wheels on the gravel drive as he backed away from the Amish store.

  She didn’t want to talk to Frank, yet that’s what would happen shortly. Colleen wouldn’t lie, but she couldn’t tell him everything. He’d be like the other law enforcement officers she had approached.

  They hadn’t believed her.

  Frank wouldn’t believe her either.

  * * *

  Instead of driving up the mountain, Frank headed to where the rescue crews were working farther south along Amish Road.

  Colleen didn’t question the change of direction. Instead she gazed out the passenger window as if distancing herself from Frank.

  Through the rearview mirror, he saw Duke balanced in the truck bed, his nose sniffing the wind. The dog had an innate ability to read people. Duke had taken to Colleen from the onset, yet Frank wouldn’t make a judgment about Colleen based on his canine’s desire for attention.

  Nearing the rescue activity, he pulled to the side of the road and cut the engine. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  She nodded but didn’t question the stop.

  Duke whined to get down.

  “Stay and guard the truck.” Guard Colleen, as well.

  Huge generators operated the emergency lights and rumbled in the night. Frank’s eyes adjusted to the brightness, and he quickly searched for a familiar face in the wash of rescue personnel.

  Spying Colby near one of the medical vehicles, Frank hurried forward. The other agent held up both hands and shrugged with regret.

  “Frank, I’m sorry. I got caught up in a problem with the Amish and never made it to the barn. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “I found Colleen.” Frank glanced back at the truck. She held her head high and stared straight ahead. If only he could tap into that defensive shell she wore as protection.

  He turned back to Colby. “Any chance you can spare an hour or two?”

  “We’re in good shape here. What do you need?”

  “Colleen was rummaging through her car. Supposedly she was searching for her carry-on bag. Earlier I had found Vivian’s phone with a video showing what appeared to be a drug exchange.”

  “You know we’re not allowed to search a suspect’s cell phone without a warrant.”

  Frank nodded. “I was checking to see if it still had power. The video came up on the screen. I didn’t have to search for anything, and I didn’t access her call log, much as I would have liked that information, as well.”

  “You think both women were dealing?”

  “I’m not sure what to think, but Colleen’s ready to answer questions, and I want you there since I’m not officially on duty.”

  “You could take her into post.”

  Frank nodded. “That’s an option, but Fort Rickman’s digging out from the storm. I doubt anyone wants to stop that effort to question a witness when we can handle it here.”

  “Good point. I’d be glad to serve as another set of eyes and ears. Give me a minute to let the captain know that I’ll be away from the area for a bit. I’ll meet you at Evelyn’s house.”

  Frank appreciated having another CID agent present when he questioned Colleen. She seemed legit, but even pretty young things with red hair popped pills and dealt drugs. Better to be cautious instead of making another mistake. Frank hadn’t seen Audrey for who she really was. He needed to be right about Colleen.

  Was she a deceptive drug dealer or an innocent woman caught in the wrong place at the wrong time?

  FIVE

  Knowing Frank would be thorough with his questioning, Colleen climbed from his truck as soon as they got back to Evelyn’s house. While he tended to his dog, she headed for the kitchen. Working quickly, she filled the coffee basket with grounds and poured water into the canister. The rich brew would help her see things more clearly, and the caffeine would ease her fatigue.

  The scent of coffee soon filled the kitchen. She pulled mugs from the cabinet and placed them on the counter. Frank entered the house and wiped his feet on the rug by the door before heading down the hallway.

  Just as she expected, his gaze was filled with questions when he stepped into the kitchen.

  “The coffee will be ready in a minute,” she said, hoping to deflect his initial frustration.

  “Are you and Vivian dealing drugs?” he asked without preamble.

  “Of course not.”

  “A woman was shot and fell into your car. Your rear window took a hit, which means you could have been a target, yet you didn’t know who the assailant was or why he was after Vivian. You didn’t even claim to know her name until you inadvertently shared that information when she was fighting for her life.”

  Colleen bit her lip, not knowing what she should tell him and where she should start.

  Frank continued to stare at her. “You know a lot more than you let on, Colleen. The video shows Vivian dealing drugs. She was injured in your car. Looks to me like you’re involved. The CID will investigate, as will the local police. It’s time to start talking.”

  Trembling internally, Colleen struggled to appear calm and in control. Thankfully, her hand didn’t shake when she poured coffee and handed the filled mug to the man who had followed Frank into the kitchen.

  He wore a CID windbreaker and had watched the exchange with a raised brow. The guy was shorter than Frank but carried an additional ten to twenty pounds—all muscle.

  “I’m Colleen Brennan,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And you are?”

  “Colby Voss. Special agent, Criminal Investigation Division.”

  “From Fort Rickman?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you work with Frank,” she added, following the logical progression.

  “Not yet. He’s on convalescent leave and will be assigned to the post CID when he goes back on active duty.”

  She turned to Frank. “So you’re not officially on duty.”

  “My leave status doesn’t change the fact that I’m a CID a
gent. We still need to talk.” His gaze was chilling. He wanted answers, not random chatter.

  “It’s time for you to come clean, Colleen.”

  She nodded. After filling a cup for Frank and one for herself, she carried both of them to the kitchen table. “I’m sure you’re as tired as I am. Let’s sit while we talk.”

  He groaned with frustration, but pulled out a chair across from her and lowered himself into the seat. Grabbing the coffee mug, he took a sip.

  Colby sat at the end of the table and retrieved a small tablet and pen from his pocket. “I’ll make note of anything you want to share, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” She tried to smile. “You’re investigating Vivian’s shooting?”

  The agent tapped his pen and then raised his gaze to meet Frank’s. “Special Agent in Charge Wilson will make that call. Right now, I’m here with Frank to help with the local recovery effort.”

  She nodded and then hesitated, trying to determine where to begin. “At seventeen, my sister, Briana, ran away from home to marry a shiftless bum named Larry Kelsey. He promised her a lot of things, including an acting career in Hollywood. The marriage didn’t last long. She got rid of Larry, but kept her dream of fame and fortune.”

  Colleen tried to smile. “In spite of Briana’s skewed sense of what was important in life and her naïveté, she was beautiful and poised and articulate.”

  Everything Colleen wasn’t.

  “About a year after her divorce, she took up with an Atlanta photographer. Although somewhat successful, the photography business was a front for his drug-trafficking operation. He got Briana hooked and then used her as a mule to bring in drugs from Colombia. Four months ago, she overdosed from drugs he’d given her and died.”

  Colby shifted in his seat as he took down the information. Frank steeled his jaw and continued to stare at Colleen as she continued.

  “One day, I...I ran into Trey in the grocery store.” She played her finger around the rim of her mug. She wanted to laugh at the irony, but everything caught in her throat. “Our shopping carts collided, which he thought was accidental. He didn’t realize I’d been watching him and had planned our meeting. Trey was apologetic and a perfect gentleman, or so he tried to seem. Because of Briana’s married name, he never realized I was her sister.”

  “Trey’s last name?” Colby asked.

  “Trey Howard,” she replied. “I let him take me out a few times. Nice places. Upscale eateries. Plays at the Fox, art shows at the High Museum. He said we liked the same things. At least that’s what he thought.” Again she hesitated.

  “So you had a relationship,” Frank pressed, his tone as hard as his gaze.

  She held up her hand in protest. “If you’re implying that we were involved or that anything happened between us, you’ve got it all wrong. As I kept telling Trey, we were friends, enjoying time together.”

  When she took a sip of coffee, Colby added, “But things changed.”

  “I’m a flight attendant with some seniority. I fly to Colombia two or three times a month. Trey mentioned having worked there on a resort property. He took photos for a brochure and pamphlets for vacationers looking for a new place to visit. The photos he showed me were lovely. He told me he’d arrange for me to enjoy an all-expenses-paid stay there on my next layover. The resort liked airline personnel and would be happy to have me as their guest at no expense to me.”

  “You took him up on the offer?” Frank asked.

  “I made an excuse, but the next time I was scheduled to fly, he mentioned it again. He thought I didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. He needed a package brought back into the US and suggested I do him the favor in return for the resort accommodations.”

  Frank leaned in closer. “Did you ask what was in the package?”

  “No, but I didn’t need a degree in law enforcement to know the package probably contained something the government might not want brought into this country.”

  “You notified the authorities?”

  She pulled in a deep breath. “Trey was well connected. I needed evidence before I accused him of anything illegal.”

  “Go on,” Frank encouraged.

  “One night I surprised him at his condo. He was working in his office, but said he needed to take a break and was glad I had stopped by. We were in the living area when he got a phone call. He apologized for taking the call and said he’d be tied up for ten to fifteen minutes. I excused myself to use the restroom. His office was across the hall, but he didn’t go there to talk. Instead, he went outside on the deck, which gave me the opportunity I’d been hoping for.”

  “You searched his office?” Frank seemed surprised.

  “I had questions that needed answers and wanted to be sure I was right about who Trey really was.”

  “You put yourself in danger, Colleen.”

  “Maybe, but Trey trusted me at that point. Besides—” she raised her brow “—I’m sure you’ve been in harm’s way a time or two.”

  “It’s my job. You’re a civilian and not law enforcement.”

  “That’s correct, but if the authorities weren’t interested in bringing down a known drug trafficker, I had to get involved.”

  At the time, she hadn’t thought about the danger to herself. She’d thought only of gathering the evidence she needed.

  “Give me all the information you have about Trey,” Colby interjected.

  She provided his address and phone number. “He’s got a studio in College Park, not far from the airport, and another one in Midtown.”

  “What did you find that night?” Frank asked.

  “A list of names that included two young women I’d read about in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution some weeks earlier. Jackie Leonard and Patty Owens.”

  Colby wrote the names in his notebook.

  “Both women had disappeared months earlier. They worked in the King’s Club downtown. Jackie’s body was found stuffed in the locked trunk of an automobile in long-term parking at the airport. The car had been stolen. Patty’s body was recovered in a shallow grave in Union City, south of the airport.”

  “Had you known the women?” Frank asked.

  She shook her head. “I told you, I read about them in the AJC, but their stories aren’t much different from Briana’s. I’m sure Trey promised them payment in drugs if they brought a few packages into the country for him.”

  “Finding their names on a list doesn’t establish the photographer’s guilt.”

  “Maybe not, but it does increase the cloud of suspicion hanging over his head.”

  Frank pursed his lips. “Let’s go back to when you were in Trey’s office. You saw a list of names and recognized the two women in question.”

  “That’s right.” She nodded.

  “Did you find anything else?”

  “Trey said he’d been working, so I clicked on his computer. A photo appeared on the screen.”

  Colby glanced up.

  “Go on,” Frank prompted.

  “The picture showed a table near a huge window that looked down on a swimming pool and lush gardens with the ocean in the distance. Bricks wrapped in plastic were on the table.”

  “Shrink-wrapped in plastic?”

  She nodded.

  Frank’s tone hardened. “Just like the package Vivian handed off in the video.”

  Colleen raked her hand through her hair and sighed. “Yes.”

  Colby sniffed. “Seems I missed something.”

  Frank pulled the iPhone from his pocket and hit the home button, then the play arrow. He held it up for Colleen to see. “Who’s the guy in the footage?”

  She leaned across the table. “Trey Howard.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Frank handed the cell to Colby. “As I mentioned earlier, Vivian had the near
-field communication function turned on.”

  “Because she planned to copy the video to someone else’s phone.” Colby made a notation in his tablet.

  Frank turned back to Colleen. “How’d you hook up with Vivian?”

  “Her name was on the list, along with a phone number. I recognized the Georgia area code, and did a search on the internet.”

  She glanced at Colby. “Vivian likes social media. I learned her husband was deployed to Afghanistan, and she was interested in modeling so she’d had photographs taken for her portfolio.”

  “Trey did the photography?” Frank asked.

  “That’s right. He can be charming when he wants something. I’m sure he told Vivian she’d be a successful cover model.”

  “But he wasn’t interested in her career.”

  “Hardly.” She pulled in a breath. “Trey needed another mule to transport drugs into the country.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “I called her. She was scared. Her husband had redeployed home, and she wanted to cut off all contact with Trey.”

  Frank shook his head and narrowed his gaze. His tone was laced with skepticism. “She admitted to bringing a package into the US from Colombia?”

  “Not in so many words, but I understood what she was trying to tell me.”

  “Why would she reveal anything over the phone?”

  “I knew enough about Trey and how he operated to convince her. Plus, she’d met Briana at Trey’s photo studio the day she was having her portfolio done.”

  “Wasn’t Trey afraid the girls he used would rat him out to the cops?”

  “I don’t know how Trey’s mind functions, but he’s despicable and conniving, and he kept close tabs on anyone who worked for him. If they talked about leaving his operation, he got rid of them.”

  “Do you know that for sure?”

  She sighed. “I don’t have proof. I do have what you’d call circumstantial evidence that points to him.”

  “You think Trey killed Jackie Leonard and Patty Owens?”

  “Maybe not personally, but he could have ordered one of the thugs who are part of his operation to do his dirty work.”