Always Faithful

by Caitlyn Willows

  It wasn’t that he had never been shot at before. He’d been in war zones, and there had even been a time when he had prayed that a bullet would pierce his heart and take away the pain of losing Rowan. Not now. This time it was personal. This time he wanted to live, for Rowan’s sake.

  She was on to something. Phillip would have to give her that much. Whatever she had uncovered, it was big enough to kill for. That meant there had to be evidence somewhere. His problem was trying to find it in time. Tomorrow would be a busy day.

  Somewhat composed, he returned to the main room. Rowan was sleeping soundly, although he couldn’t see how since she was curled up into a little ball in order to fit on the sofa. He was tempted to carry her to the bed then dismissed that idea. If she slept, she had to be comfortable enough. Still, he tucked a pillow beneath her head and tossed a sheet over her.

  Stretching out on his stomach on the bed, he watched the rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. He saw her soft nape and vividly recalled the taste of it on his tongue. The memory of their long-ago lovemaking hardened him. He wrenched his gaze away and shifted to a more comfortable position.

  They had yet to speak of the past. It was probably just as well. What good would it do when there were no tomorrows for them? She’d run out on him when he’d needed her most, when his life had been turned around and upside down by his father’s scheming.

  So much for the rosy future. The present was all that mattered and maybe, just maybe, they might be able to salvage a casual friendship from the whole mess. Anything more than that and they could both kiss their military careers goodbye.

  Rationalizing didn’t help. His body still ached to hold her close. Common sense told him he was being stupid. The two warred throughout the night, making sleep elusive. Dreams haunted him in those rare snatches of time when sleep did come. The slightest sound pumped adrenaline through his veins while he waited for an attack that never materialized.

  By dawn, he had given up the fight for sleep. He sat up on the edge of the bed to watch the minutes tick off before the alarm rang. Then he noticed the white paper lying inside the door. Careful not to wake Rowan, he walked over to it. The words scrawled in black marker were readable without having to pick it up.

  People who ask too many questions get killed.

  “What is it?” Rowan asked, her voice groggy with sleep.

  “Just your basic generic threat. I doubt that we’ll find any fingerprints on it, but just in case…” Phillip picked it up by one corner and dropped it into his briefcase. “Get cleaned up and we’ll grab some breakfast before we head to your office.”

  “I don’t think I could eat anything.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I’m still a little stressed over last night’s excitement.” Her light dusting of freckles stood out sharply against her pale face.

  “Well, I’m starving. You didn’t eat much last night. You’ve got to be a little hungry. Come on.”

  “I’ll clean up and change into my uniform at the office.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Rowan looked ill. The bruise on her face stood out against the pallor of her delicate skin. He sympathized. His stomach was in knots. It didn’t matter how generic the threat. It was still ugly and frightening.

  They walked out into the dry desert morning, a radiant pink sunrise mocking the horror of the night before. Each breath felt like hot oven air and the sun hadn’t even climbed over the horizon.

  He checked over his shoulder while they walked toward her van. Except for the early formations of Marines running, no one was in sight, but that didn’t mean they were safe.

  “Somehow I’m not surprised.” Rowan’s weary voice bordered on tears.

  Phillip followed her gaze. Every tire on her van was slashed. “Son of a… I’m calling the MPs.”

  She laughed without humor. “Why bother?”

  “I’m not about to let this go, Rowan.”

  She looked up at him with cynical golden-brown eyes. “You just don’t get it, do you? All the MPs care about is getting even. One of their guys is dead. They’re out for their own type of justice and the facts be damned. In addition to that, somebody else doesn’t like my investigating and is threatening me. I’m tired, Phillip—tired of everything.”

  She pivoted on her heel and started down the street.

  “Where are you going?” he shouted at her retreating back.

  “To work, while I still have a job.”

  Rowan kept up a steady pace, knowing Phillip would be right behind her.

  The stakes had grown in the last twenty-four hours and she prayed they did not include her mother and Ian. So far, the threats and physical violence had been directed at her. But as Phillip’s investigation into her case continued, she expected whomever was responsible would become more desperate. Nothing would be considered too sacred to keep her silent. Why else would she have been framed for Kemp’s murder?

  “Will you slow down?” he snapped from behind her. “It looks like I’m chasing you.”

  Rowan kept walking. “I want to call Mom. I need to know that she’s all right.” I need to know if Ian is all right. “My cell phone was confiscated by PMO.”

  He snagged her arm and pulled her to a stop. “If you really want to worry her by telling her what’s been going on, I have a cell phone in my briefcase.”

  Her shoulders sagged, defeated by his logic once more. “Of course I don’t want to worry her. I need to know that she’s all right. I’ll call from my office.”

  They walked on in silence.

  Someone would have to report this latest indignity to Colonel Scott. She’d let that someone be Phillip. Alone in her office, she picked up the telephone. Her mother answered on the second ring.

  “I wanted to see how you were doing this morning, Mom.”

  “A lot better than you—or so it sounds. Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine. I was wondering if you had any word from Ian? Is he having a good time?”

  Her mother laughed. “Sweetheart, he’s camping. How can he call?”

  “I know. I love you, Mom. Have a good day.”

  “You too, sweetheart. And, Rowan?” Her voice was warm and steady.

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “It’s going to be all right.”

  “I know, Mom,” she choked out, then slipped the phone into its cradle.

  Tears she’d previously held back with an iron will were allowed to drift unrestrained down her cheeks. Rowan didn’t know how long she cried, only that when the knock came at her door she wasn’t cried out. Dashing her hand across her cheeks, she invited the person in.

  Captain Connors poked his head though the door. “Captain Stuart wants to see you in his office.”

  Rowan gave a quick nod. “I’ll be right there. By the way, I want to thank you for removing that page from my record book.”

  “I wasn’t going to, but frankly, his attitude pissed me off.”

  Rowan managed a smile. “He tends to have that effect on most people.”

  He shrugged. “Something like that. He’s not a nice person, Staff Sergeant. Better keep that in mind.”

  There was no sense arguing with him. “I will.” She sucked in a breath to calm her nerves and walked down the hall to Phillip’s office.

  She hesitated at the door to the office when she heard Phillip on the phone to someone named Zach. He needed his help with the case. There was also mention of a woman and Rowan felt an unfamiliar jab of jealousy. She was about to step away when Phillip spied her. With a distracted smile, he motioned her inside and continued speaking.

  “I’ll see you in a couple of days then. Give Oscar a hug from his dad.”

  Oscar. Phillip had a child. A son. Strange how badly that hurt.

  “I talked to Colonel Scott. Your preliminary hearing is being moved up to Monday,” he told her as he hung up.

  Rowan nodded. Her military arraignment. The hearing that decided if she would be tried for murder.

&
nbsp; “So, you know what that means.”

  She shook her head.

  “The prosecutor is on her way up. We’ve got a lot of investigating to do in the next few days.”

  “Do you know anything about her? What is her reputation as a prosecutor?”

  Phillip busied himself putting her arraignment papers away in his leather briefcase. “As I mentioned before, she’s good—good at her job, I mean. Aggressive. I know that from past experience.” He faced her. “She’s good but I’m better. When my friend Zach arrives from Camp Pendleton, we will have some more legal help with this case. He has some excellent ideas. Would you like to hear them?”

  Rowan already knew more than she cared to. No matter how impossible a future was between them, it still wrenched her heart that another woman shared his life and had given him a son.

  Chapter Seven

  “I understand you had quite a morning.”

  Phillip looked up from the base map he was studying when Jess Alderman walked in. It was about time someone came to get him after he’d cooled his heels in the waiting room of the Naval Criminal Investigation Service for well over an hour. What little patience he had remaining was kept in place by an iron will that was rapidly rusting.

  “That certainly is an understatement.”

  “I spoke with CID. There were no fingerprints on the paper, except for yours in the corner—also, no evidence near the van.”

  “There’s a surprise.”

  Phillip didn’t care how sarcastic he sounded. It was all too convenient, too pat—too professional for a bunch of military policemen enraged over the death of a colleague. It had to be someone else. Perhaps the criminal was extremely clever—or else someone somewhere was covering up evidence.

  Alderman swung the door open wide. “You can wait in my office. Malcolm is tied up right now on the phone, probably with the same civilian contractor who was pitching a fit over the theft of some tank-targeting equipment from the firing ranges.”

  Phillip followed him down the hall. “Seems like an odd thing to steal.” He heard a voice rise in argument as they passed one room and he raised his eyebrows.

  Alderman jerked his thumb toward the closed door. “Collins. With nothing but hundreds of miles of desert in any direction, we’re pretty accessible. Thieves will take anything that’s not nailed down and often those things that are, if they can get away with it. If there’s money in it, they’ll take it—copper, electronics, explosives that didn’t detonate. With a base this size, mostly uninhabited, there isn’t much we can do about security. A while back thieves broke into a maintenance shed out on one of the ranges and took thousands of dollars’ worth of tools. Just waited until the military shooting exercise was over, drove up the back way and cleaned it out.”

  “Let me guess,” Phillip said. “Same civilian contractor.”

  He nodded. “He’s furious. The multiple thefts are going to wreak havoc with contract negotiations. He comes in here yelling at us about security, but there isn’t much action to take at the moment and we didn’t find much evidence. All we could do was notify pawn shops in the neighboring towns. Coffee?”

  Phillip declined. He’d had enough to float a ship. “Tools are one thing, but targets? How much money could they be worth?”

  “A small fortune.” Alderman poured himself a small cauldron of coffee and eased into a vinyl chair opposite where Phillip now sat. “It’s not the target they want. It’s what’s attached to it—the box for pyrotechnics that sits at the base of each one. High-grade aluminum. Heavy as the dickens and worth a pretty penny.”

  “How much are we talking about?”

  “Five hundred to a thousand dollars per stolen device. We know that the thieves steal hundreds of them every time they make a hit, so each successful robbery brings them a big chunk of change.”

  “Let me guess.” Phillip rested his forearms on his knees. “The turnover is good because the aluminum bases have to be replaced for the next series of training missions.”

  Alderman nodded. “Right. The Marines can’t stop training while we check each pawnshop for the missing targets. The government has to buy replacements, so the thieves wait for the chance to steal them again. It’s not a bad living if you can get away with it.”

  “Which is apparently what they’ve been doing. Have you staked out the place?”

  He shrugged. “Tried once. No luck. With our limited manpower and resources, there isn’t much more we can do.”

  Somehow Phillip was beginning to think that was their stand on everything. His disgust must have shown because Alderman leaned forward.

  “This main part of the base is small, but you have to remember there are also nine hundred and thirty-two square miles of desert out there and that doesn’t include the camp areas. There are just a handful of us. What else can we do to cover a military base this size?”

  Phillip leveled a steady stare back his way. “Apparently, as with everything else I’ve seen so far, nothing.”

  Alderman tilted his chair back, all rapport washed away by Phillip’s insult. “That’s hardly a fair statement. You’re judging us on an isolated incident.”

  “Attempted murder, vandalism, threats, murder, theft of government property… That’s one hell of an incident, Mr. Alderman.”

  He slugged down some coffee and gave a lazy grin. “Most of it was solved with the arrest of your client, from what I understand.”

  Phillip didn’t buy Alderman’s good-old-boy routine for a moment. The man was sharp as a razor. “Awfully convenient, don’t you think?”

  Alderman danced his thumb over the rim of his mug. “Criminals are bound to slip up at some time.”

  Phillip cocked his head to one side. “Maybe. I only hope this one will slip up in time to save Staff Sergeant McKinley.”

  Alderman tipped his chair back, seemingly digesting the words. “I know you have to defend your client to the utmost, but have you considered that she could have planted that note under your door last night?”

  “Now that would have been a good trick. She slept the night through. I know because I watched her.”

  “Too bad you weren’t watching to see who left the note.”

  Phillip’s jaw twitched. The man had cut right to the core of his guilt. If only I had been more alert.

  Alderman took a swig of coffee. “All I’m saying is, don’t be too zealous until you read the investigation report.”

  “Something which appears as though it will take an act of God to achieve.”

  He grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.” He set the chair to rights and left the office.

  Phillip rubbed his temples in a slow circle. Why did he get the impression they had played a mental game of chess? Trouble was that he wasn’t sure who’d won the match. But one thing was certain. He was going to have to fight for every piece of evidence in this case. If Alderman thought another delaying tactic was going to make him give up, he was dead wrong. Phillip would sit here until he got the investigation report he’d come for or until they physically removed him from the building.

  Minutes ticked by again. He made a note of it. If push came to shove, Phillip could shove pretty hard. A few well-placed phone calls would do the trick.

  “Good morning, Captain Stuart. Sorry to have kept you waiting.” A balding man of slender build eased into the room, one hand extended in greeting while the other absently massaged his midsection. Each breath he took was an effort.

  Phillip stood and accepted the handshake without hesitation, but that was as cordial as he intended to get.

  “Malcolm Collins. I’m the investigating officer assigned to the Kemp murder case. Sorry I’m late. I was tending to an important personal matter.”

  Personal? I’ve been biding my time waiting for Collins to handle personal business? “Well, this is pretty damned important, too. I’ve been waiting for well over an hour. When I make an appointment, I expect it to be kept.”

  Alderman eased into the room behind Collins.

/>   “What’s more important than a murder investigation?” Phillip asked.

  Collins whirled around. “Just get off my case. I’ve got you on one side and my wife and her smart-assed attorney screaming at me to sign divorce papers on the other. Child support is killing me. I don’t know if I’m ever going to see my kids again and the bitch has the nerve to scream for spousal support. She’s got everything else. I’m surprised she’s not asking for the clothes off my back.”

  In the dead silence that followed, a red flush covered Collins’ face. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar, trying to loosen his necktie while he composed himself. While coughing into his hand, he stared at a spot on the far wall.

  “Sorry. I’ve been pretty busy. We’re a little short-handed around here. This divorce is killing me in more ways than one.”

  “I understand.” At least he’d had the decency to admit his mistake. Phillip felt a small measure of sympathy for him. The subject was best left to die. “I’d like to look at those reports now, Mr. Collins.”

  “Got them right here.” Collins reached into an enormous file folder and dragged out a thick sheaf of papers, wincing from the effort.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Collins?”

  “I was doing some work on my roof over the weekend and fell off the ladder. Just bruised some ribs.” He held up the papers once more. “I would have made you a copy, but our machine is down.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have one for me by the end of the day. In the meantime, if there’s a private place where I can read through this, I would appreciate it.”

  “Sure. No problem. Plenty of empty offices around here.”

  He led Phillip down the hall then left him on his own. Still, Phillip couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched. After settling at the desk, he started on the document.

  A lot of the information was missing. Autopsy report on the deceased. Forensics evidence. Bullet trajectory. Photographs of the crime scene. Ballistics report of the weapon. That would all come later. The evidence already there bothered him.