Always Faithful

by Catherine Snodgrass

  Leaving the disgruntled lieutenant staring after them, they ducked under the tape and walked into the building’s dim interior.

  Phillip expected some measure of relief from the oppressive heat, but the sun had turned the equipment building into an oversized oven, creating a wall of heat that slammed into him with the force of a hammer.

  "Over there."

  Phillip and Alderman followed Collins to a taped outline on the concrete floor behind a row of fifty-five-gallon drums. Dried blood patches remained to mark Kemp’s head wound.

  "And where did you find Staff Sergeant McKinley?" Phillip asked.

  Collins pointed to chalk marks ten feet away. They were the only clue that someone had lain there. He glanced back toward the doorway. Another discrepancy glared back at him. Rowan said she had been struck the minute she entered, yet they found her unconscious some fifty feet away from the door—deep inside the building.

  "Still think she’s innocent?" Collins asked, his tone mocking.

  Phillip’s gaze flicked up to the man. Collins stood arms crossed, a cocky smirk on his thin face. Off to one side Alderman stared at his colleague with undisguised dislike.

  "Aside from the fact that it’s my job to believe she’s innocent, actually, Mr. Collins, I do."

  Collins brought his hand to his mouth and slowly rubbed his lips. "Why, when the evidence is overwhelmingly against her?"

  Phillip raised an eyebrow. "Body language, Mr. Collins. It tells a lot about whether a person is lying or telling the truth."

  "And she has quite a body to look at, doesn’t she?" Collins said with a sly grin.

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Phillip snapped.

  Alderman stepped between the two. "That was uncalled for Malcolm." His voice deepened to a threatening rumble.

  Collins gave a short, barking laugh. "Sorry. This case is so cut and dried. I’m a little frustrated that the good captain can’t see that. As short-staffed as we are, I hate to have to spend time on wild goose chases, that’s all."

  "Then go on back to the office. I’ll ride back with Captain Stuart when he’s finished looking around."

  Collins shot Phillip an annoyed glance then left. Once he was out of range, Alderman faced Phillip.

  "I apologize for my co-worker. I can only put it down to job stress and his divorce problems."

  "Spare me the excuses, Mr. Alderman. Why the sudden concern?" Phillip demanded to know. "What did you see that changed your mind?"

  Alderman ran his fingers through his snow-white hair. "Only about a hundred different things…well, maybe that’s a bit of exaggeration."

  "But enough to raise questions."

  He nodded slowly. "A lot of questions."

  "So you think she’s innocent, too."

  Alderman chuckled. "I’m not going that far, but I will agree something isn’t right."

  Phillip didn’t care what the man thought as long as he finally had someone willing to investigate this more thoroughly. "Such as?"

  Alderman squatted down before the outline. "Kemp was supposedly shot in the leg first, then they struggled. Why isn’t the blood more dispersed? There should be spots of blood all over the place if they struggled. There’s no blood pooled from where his thigh rested on the concrete floor. None at all."

  "Then let’s look at where they found McKinley. Face down ten feet from the body. Face down…unconscious. And given that she supposedly passed out after struggling with Kemp, as far as I know there are no bruises that indicate where she fell on the concrete. Her skin shows the mark from a direct blow to the face, but not an impact bruise from hitting the floor. Also, where’s the blood from her head wound?"

  "I’m sure she bled," Phillip said. "Wherever it was she fell."

  Alderman’s knees popped as he stood. "So you think she was moved?"

  Phillip lifted an eyebrow. "If you go by her statement…yes. And as far as I’m concerned her statement is the only thing consistent with this whole investigation."

  "I’d have to agree with you."

  It’s about time someone did. "Then get a forensics team you can trust out here to go over this place with a fine-toothed comb."

  * * *

  There weren’t enough hours in the day. It was as simple as that. The team of six men worked with a painstaking accuracy that left no doubt in Phillip’s mind they were being thorough. The forensics agents already worked under a handicap. The murder had occurred three nights before and had been tainted by everyone who entered the building thereafter. Fortunately, it looked as though the crime scene remained intact.

  They found Rowan’s original location—right inside the front door. As Alderman predicted, there was a faint, tell-tale sign of spittle and a smear of blood from where her cheek hit the floor. Scuff marks from her boots marked the floor where she was dragged before she was apparently carried to her final destination.

  Chances were good that once the experts sifted through all the evidence, there might be enough to clear her. Then they needed to find the murderer in order to prove to everyone, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Rowan McKinley was innocent.

  "That’s about all we can do for now, Jess," the lead team member said. "Anything else?"

  "One more thing. I need someone to follow the captain and me back to the legal office." He cocked his head Phillip’s way. "Unless Staff Sergeant McKinley’s clothing from that night has already been taken as evidence."

  Judging from the way she looked when he first saw her, Phillip would have to say no. He shook his head. It galled him that Collins had treated the case in so cavalier a manner, and on the return trip to base mainside, he said as much to Alderman.

  The older man shrugged a shoulder. "I know it isn’t a valid excuse, but again, all I can offer is job stress. There are just three of us now. He’s been a little on edge for several months. His wife leaving really tore him up. He’s been battling with her ever since. Every time he gives her what she asks for, she asks for more. And she uses those girls as weapons."

  "Then why in the world would he be assigned a murder investigation?"

  Again the shrug. "He was the agent on call that night. Simple as that. I suppose I should have reviewed everything more carefully from the start, but I never expected him…well, I guess he thought it was just cut and dry as I said before. All I can do now is to try to correct things as best I can."

  He rested his elbow on the edge of the door and stared at the passing landscape. "It’s later than I thought. Do you suppose Staff Sergeant McKinley is all right?"

  "I called Captain Connors. He’s watching out for her."

  He wasn’t the only one.

  Phillip saw Laura’s car before they turned into the parking lot. It was right beside Rowan’s van—which now sported four new tires. Phillip experienced that instant, gut wrenching worry that all men get when one old girlfriend meets another. He prayed that neither would discover the relationship. He cursed Zach for putting that idea in his head in the first place.

  All three were waiting in Phillip’s office. Connors and Laura chatted away like they were old friends. Rowan was tucked into the corner of the loveseat, reading a book. As if pulled by a single cord, all three looked up when Phillip walked in with Alderman.

  "How did it go?" Connors asked.

  "Interesting." A vague answer, but the only one he intended to give while Laura was there. She was, after all, the prosecuting counsel. The fact she was so near his client without him present was also alarming. Phillip didn’t entirely trust Connors to keep their interests guarded.

  He turned toward Laura. "You’re here early."

  "With the hearing going on Monday, I thought I’d better come up and get started. Do you intend to share what you’ve found?"

  "Do you have a discovery request?"

  She looked at him for a half second then burst out with a laugh. "Okay, I’ll play the game."

  "We’re going to watch the autopsy tomorrow if you’d like to join us."

  She
screwed up her face in disgust. "No thank you. I don’t even like to look at the pictures. I suppose you’d like to be alone with your client?"

  Phillip held the door for her.

  She smiled. "You’ll have that discovery request in the morning."

  "I have no doubt." He shut the door on her exit then locked his gaze on Rowan. "Where’s the uniform you were wearing the night of the shooting?"

  "It’s right here in my gym bag." She whipped open the zipper and held the garment up for verification. "I was taking it back to wash tonight."

  Alderman cracked open the paper sack he had tucked under his arm. "Nope. Put it in here. All of it. Uniform, underwear, boots…unless you’re wearing them."

  "No. I didn’t have the time to polish them last night."

  "Good for you," he said with a broad smile, and held the sack for her.

  Phillip watched her confusion as she placed each item in the sack. At the sight of the boots, he wanted to cheer. The rubber heels and leather backs were scuffed where she had been dragged.

  "I don’t understand," she said when the last item was tucked away. "Other than being dusty, there’s nothing on them. No blood, no dirt, not a smudge."

  Alderman folded the top and stapled it closed. "That’s what we’re hoping. If you’re ready to call it a night, I’ll escort the two of you back to the room."

  Rowan tossed her bag back to the floor beside her. "That won’t be necessary. I’ll be staying in the office from now on. When some of the guys from my department found out what happened last night, several of them volunteered to stay here in shifts and keep an eye on me. They went out for burgers and should be back soon."

  "No." Phillip spoke without thinking. The thought of her being alone with a bunch of guys he didn’t know made his stomach twist.

  "Excuse me?" She used that tone which usually heralded trouble. There was going to be a fight and she was digging in deep.

  Phillip braced his hands on his waist. There had to be a quick solution to pull his foot from his mouth. "You’ve already got an adultery charge hanging over your head. How will it look if you stay here alone with a bunch of male Marines?"

  "Co-workers and friends, Captain," she replied, with a tilt of her chin.

  "Men, Staff Sergeant."

  Captain Connors cleared his throat and they looked at him.

  "And how do you think it looks for her to continue to stay with you? She’s got friends who care about her and want to help. Let them. I’ll be here, too."

  Phillip reluctantly conceded the point.

  "I’m sure your wife will appreciate it, too." Rowan shot Phillip a sidelong glance through narrowed eyes.

  He drew back, blinking in surprise. "My wife? I don’t have a wife. Who told you that?"

  "I…you were talking to your friend about…I heard you talk about a woman."

  He jerked his thumb toward the door. "Laura. Captain Cushing. I wanted her to know the hearing was moved up."

  "But Oscar…your boy," she stammered.

  Phillip stared for what seemed an eternity before bursting into roars of laughter. "My dog."

  "Your—"

  "Dog. Wanna see a picture?" Without waiting for a reply, he sat beside her and pulled out his wallet.

  Connors groaned and rolled his eyes. "I think I hear the lieutenant bringing our dinner. I’ll leave you two with the puppy pictures. Back in a few minutes. I swear it’s worse than looking at pictures of someone’s kids."

  Phillip ignored him and shoved the photo into Rowan’s hands.

  "A Weimaraner!" Her eyes brightened with tears as he smiled. He carried a picture of his dog in his wallet. "Isn’t he adorable? How old?"

  "Eighteen months. He was six months there." He pulled out another photo—his favorite…the one playing ball at the beach, ears blowing in the breeze. "This was last month."

  Rowan’s smile widened though she felt like crying. He doted on the dog. She could imagine what he’d be like with his child. The years stolen from them tore at her heart. They’d never get them back. The loss of that time with Phillip made her almost physically ill with regret.

  But what about the future? What would he truly feel once he discovered he had an eight-year-old son? Would he indulge Ian as he did Oscar? Or would he refuse to be a part of the boy’s life? She couldn’t hurt Ian by presenting him with a father who wouldn’t acknowledge him. But wasn’t she hurting him more by allowing him to hero-worship a man he’d never met?

  That was her fault. She should have nipped it in the bud when it first happened. But she couldn’t take that adulation away from him, and instead helped feed it. Now they’d both pay.

  Blinking her vision clear, she tapped the picture. "He sure loves you, doesn’t he? What are you two doing here?"

  He draped his arm over the back of the sofa and leaned closer, pointing to the picture. "Playing ball. He’s trying to take it from me. My friend Zach took the picture."

  "Got any more?"

  "Naw. Zach made me take most of them out of my wallet. He said it didn’t make a good romantic impression on the ladies."

  "Oh, I disagree. It’s a great ice-breaker."

  "You think?"

  "I sure do." She handed him back the picture and shot her smile his way. "What woman could…resist?" she finished in a whisper, voice trailing off with uncertainty.

  Her soft lips were a fraction of an inch from his. If she only knew how tempting. If she only knew how much he wanted to close that infinitesimal distance. His heart hammered against his ribs. It was wrong. A step neither of them should take for a hundred different reasons—all of which didn’t matter at that moment. He wanted to taste her mouth…now. Phillip tilted his head, ready to slide his lips over hers.

  Footsteps in the hallway yanked him to his senses. "Well," he slipped the wallet back in his pocket and stood with brisk movements, "that’s Oscar. Sounds like your guards are here so I’ll let you call it a night. I’ll have Captain Connors make arrangements with the hospital for you to have your body thoroughly checked for bruising. I’ll be back on Friday."

  Rowan willed herself to breathe again once he had gone. Her heart soared with joy. He wasn’t married. He was free! And he still wanted her. The look in his eyes told her, and she knew that look well.

  "Don’t, Rowan," Captain Connors softly told her from the doorway.

  She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed from a combination of embarrassment and desire. With shaking hands she accepted the hamburger and fries he handed her way. "I don’t know what you mean."

  "Yes, you do." He walked in and shut the door. "I recognize the look. You know it can only lead to disaster for you both. I’ve managed to convince the colonel there’s no fraternization going on between the two of you. Please don’t make me a liar."

  Rowan nodded and bit into her burger, but the misery choking her made it impossible to swallow.

  Chapter 8

  * * *

  Laura tensed beside Phillip as they walked into the coroner’s examining room. He was surprised she had risen to his taunt of "coward" and come along. If the paleness in her cheeks gave any indication, she definitely regretted it now. He felt a twinge of guilt about baiting Laura. She could never resist a challenge and he could never resist throwing one in her path.

  "Oh, God." She clutched a facemask to her mouth. "It’s a real live dead body."

  Jess Alderman chuckled, but kept any teasing remarks he had to himself. Mike Connors simply placed his hand against Laura’s back to steady her, even though beads of sweat were forming on his pale brow.

  Jess and Mike… Phillip’s lip curled in a half-smile. In the hour and a half drive, all formalities faded. Even though the words were never spoken because of Laura’s presence, they were embarking on a single mission—to save Rowan. That unity somehow managed to make them easy friends as they traded stories on past cases.

  "Why did I ever allow you to goad me into coming here?" Laura groaned.

  "You want the evidence first-hand,
don’t you?" he said with a grin. "You don’t want to have to wait for the official report. That could take weeks."

  "It’s freezing in here." She dusted warmth into her arms then hugged them against her chest. "I fail to see…oh my god!"

  Her face took on a greenish tinge as the coroner faced them, one bloodied hand extended their way. As if in afterthought he pulled it back.

  "Sorry…reflex. Come in. Come in. We’re about to get started. Everyone gather around for a good look."

  The men did so. Laura hovered in the background for a second or two then crept forward.

  "Homicide or suicide?" the coroner asked.

  "You tell us," Laura mumbled from behind her mask.

  Phillip silently applauded. She was willing to be objective no matter what circumstantial evidence she had seen so far.

  With a nod to his assistant, the coroner began. All his observations were recorded on tape. The microphone dangled from a cord centered above Charlie Kemp’s body. A forensic photographer snapped off pictures.

  The deceased appears to be a healthy male.

  A little too healthy in Phillip’s opinion. If it had been true that Rowan slept with the man, Phillip might have been tempted to pick up a scalpel and…

  Height: six-foot-four. Weight: two hundred fifty pounds.

  The man could have easily overpowered a fine-boned woman like Rowan. Phillip scribbled the annotation on his notepad. Yes, a bodybuilder and in superb health, Kemp had been in outstanding physical condition, even for the Marine Corps.

  Two gun shot wounds are on the body: one on the upper right thigh, leaving no exit wound; the other on the head upper right temple, exit wound behind and below the left ear. Gunpowder marks are near the head wound.

  That was the first piece of evidence that corroborated the report. Kemp was shot at close range. Not ten feet away where Rowan was found.

  Numerous abrasions and contusions mark the body.

  The coroner listed the locations while the photographer clicked away shot after shot. The more mundane aspects followed—measurements, skin discolorations. Phillip heard Laura mumble something about not being so bad after all. Then the coroner opened the body.