Always Faithful

by Catherine Snodgrass

  Phillip glanced over his shoulder. The two patrolmen were keeping a respectful distance, but that would last just so long. They had a job to do. He motioned them in. Mike followed.

  Zach regarded them through dazed, half-lidded eyes and tried to extend his uninjured arm to Phillip who reached forward and clasped it gently between his hands.

  "Ian…Emma." It was barely a croak.

  Still grasping his hand, Phillip sat on the edge of the bed. "Resting." That’s all he needed to know.

  Zach closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "It happened so fast. He came up behind me from nowhere. I mean, I wasn’t even away from the house ten minutes and there he was. He had his brights on and for a minute I thought he was going to plow into the rear of the car. The rain was the worst I’ve ever seen. I could barely see the road as it was, then those damn bright lights."

  Zach paused to take several shuddering breaths. "Finally he passed. Glass exploded beside me." He closed his eyes, then opened them once more as if struggling to stay awake.

  "We can finish this later. You need to rest."

  Zach squeezed Phillip’s hand feebly. "I’m okay. It’s funny. I didn’t realize I’d been shot at first. All I remember thinking was that Ian never made a sound and Emma didn’t scream. I fought the wheel trying to keep on the road. I was afraid to stop because I didn’t know what might happen. Then he swerved into us…over and over again. I hit a patch of water, and he rammed us again. We rolled. Next thing I knew, I was here."

  "They caught one of the guys, Zach. He’s right down the hall. The other one got away. And there were witnesses. Once the bastard comes to, we’ll be able to nail this case shut."

  Zach nodded and sank into his pillows. "I’m sorry, Phillip. I was supposed to protect…"

  Zach’s face was now an alarming shade of gray. Beads of sweat gathered at his temples and along his upper lip.

  "Don’t even start that. If it weren’t for you, Emma and Ian might not be alive right now."

  "Brave kid," Zach murmured softly. "Not a peep. Not a complaint."

  Phillip didn’t have the heart to tell him it was because Ian was knocked out cold. Zach’s grip slackened and he started to drift off to sleep. A piercing tone from the corridor opened his eyes.

  Zach struggled to right himself. "What…"

  Phillip gently pushed him down. "It’s nothing…rest." He walked over to the police officers. "What is that sound?"

  "It’s a Code Blue," one of the patrolmen told him. "Someone’s died."

  Phillip tore from the room like the devil was on his heels. God, no! Please, no!

  He jerked to a stop shy of entering Ian’s room. A Navy corpsman and doctor stood over his bed. Rowan was at the foot, hands folded in prayer beneath her chin. He was afraid to cross the threshold.

  Rowan looked up, tears shimmering in her eyes. She held her hand to him. "Come…see."

  Somehow he forced himself to move. He caught Rowan’s fingers—his lifeline to reality.

  "Look." She motioned to the bed.

  He pivoted that way and was greeted by Ian’s groggy gaze.

  "Hey, Dad," he croaked.

  Phillip didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He compromised with a little of both.

  "Your son started to come around a few minutes ago," the doctor said with a smile. "Some trooper you’ve got here. Quite a little fighter."

  "That’s our boy," Phillip said, still dazed from his fright.

  "You’re shaking," Rowan whispered. "What’s wrong?"

  He shook his head. "There was a Code Blue. I thought…" The words were best left unspoken. "I should let Zach know everything’s okay here. I left him in kind of a hurry. I won’t be long."

  Mike intercepted him two feet from Zach’s room. "The guy who ran Zach off the road is dead. Looks like someone walked right in and smothered him."

  "Since I doubt his partner could walk in here without being seen or smelled, I’ll give you ten guesses who killed him." Phillip massaged the ache between his eyes. "Now what?"

  Jess gnawed on his toothpick. "He’ll go after the other desert rat…wherever he is."

  "Well, I don’t know where he is, but I have a pretty good idea how to find him." Phillip pushed to his feet.

  * * *

  "I don’t know why I let you talk me into this." Laura fidgeted with her seatbelt as if trying to decide if she was really going to follow Phillip into the bar.

  "We’re both wired. The place is surrounded. There’s no danger to either of us."

  "It’s one in the morning. The bars will close in an hour. Are you sure this woman will still be around?"

  "Right now I’m not sure of anything…except that I want to get this done." Before someone else died…someone he loved.

  She flicked open her seatbelt, then flung open the door. Stomping ahead of him as they had planned, she marched into the bar.

  Phillip chased after her, and spoke in an over-loud voice. "Will you wait up?"

  Laura flopped behind the nearest table and whispered under her breath. "She’s in the corner booth."

  He dared a glance up. Rusty sat facing them, her short skirt hiked up to her rear end.

  "I thought I told you to wait," he snapped at Laura.

  "I’m sick of you ordering me around." She shoved herself to her feet, drawing the room’s attention and toppling the chair to the floor.

  "We’re finished. I thought I made that clear. If you follow me again, I’ll have you arrested." Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she stormed out of the bar.

  The room was silent for a few seconds, then everyone turned back to their business. It took half as much time for Rusty to saunter his way.

  "Have a fight with your girl?"

  He forced his gaze to travel the length of her body. "Not my girl anymore. She caught me with someone else. Don’t understand why she’s so hot about it. She doesn’t own me. Cold fish in bed. She doesn’t understand what I need, know what I mean?"

  She slithered closer. "Yeah. I know all about a man’s appetites. So, are you hungry now?"

  Chuckling, he caught her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. "Starving. Got any…um…food?"

  "I might know where we can get some. What’s your budget?"

  "Rusty, the sky’s the limit tonight."

  "Well then," she hopped to her feet, "I know a cozy little place real close."

  "I hope so." He jerked his thumb toward the door. "She left me stranded."

  "Just a few blocks away… You know, you’ve got to be the yummiest lookin’ thing I’ve seen in a long time. I’m real glad you’re back in the neighborhood."

  Phillip laughed and hooked her arm through his. "Sounds like you’re the one who’s starving."

  "I might be…as long as the sky’s the limit." She leaned close and dropped her voice to a whisper. "And speaking of limits, I’ll have to see some cash before we mosey on over to my place."

  Phillip stood and smiled, a deliberately sensual smile. "Of course." He pulled Rusty close, bending as if to give her a kiss, and passed her a hundred dollar bill. "And that’s for starters."

  Rusty’s avarice shone upon her thin face. "C’mon."

  They made it as far as the parking lot before the local police closed in. "You’re under arrest for prostitution, Rusty."

  She sputtered obscenities at the police and Phillip as they cuffed her then shoved her into the patrol car beside Jess.

  The toothpick danced from one side of Jess’ mouth to the other. "If you quit your blabbering long enough, we might be able to make a deal."

  Chest heaving with indignation, she glared at him. "What kind of deal?"

  "You were seen dancing with a couple of men the other night."

  "I dance with a lot of men every night."

  "No games," he barked.

  She drew back.

  "Two desert rats and a man with dark thinning hair, Marine high and tight haircut. Ferret face. Sat in the corner booth. They seemed to be on pretty good ter
ms with you."

  Rusty shrugged. "Okay, so I know ’em. What’s it to you?"

  "One’s dead. We want to talk to the other one before he winds up dead, too."

  Her bravado faded. "That’s all? And you’ll let me go?"

  Jess twirled the toothpick. "Free and clear."

  "All right. I’ll tell you. No skin off my nose. I don’t owe those two a damn thing."

  The policeman scribbled the information on a notepad and shoved it to his partner.

  Jess unfolded himself from the car. "Okay, gents, let the lady go. Let’s get a team over to this guy’s house and take him into custody."

  Rusty was out of the car the second the cuffs came off. "Wait a minute. You can’t leave me here. What if this maniac comes after me?"

  Phillip leaned close, pinning her to the vehicle. "Now why would he do a thing like that? Is there perhaps something you know that you should be sharing?"

  She sputtered for a response, searching each face for answers. Finally, she drew up her shoulders. "All right. I’ll tell you everything I know…if you promise to protect me until Malcolm is locked up."

  After Jess nodded, she crawled in the back seat once more and, after having been read her rights, Rusty made her preliminary statement. It verified everything they already suspected. Now all they had to do was catch Collins, and the net was tightening fast. At least he hoped so.

  Standing with Jess, they watched the patrol drive off with Rusty safely tucked in the officer’s care.

  "I just got word," Jess said as he pulled open the door on his car. "Collins was watching when you pulled up to the bar. He followed Laura back to the base. She’s been notified and is moving to the next plan. The MP’s aren’t far behind. They’re keeping a close eye on her and her shadow. She’s going to drive around a bit and give us a chance to get into position before she goes to the legal offices."

  Phillip nodded and prayed this was the end of it.

  * * *

  Cramped in an unmarked van across the street, Phillip, Jess, and the MP chief watched Collins edge toward the legal office. Looking in all directions, he lifted his fist and beat at the door. Laura waited a few minutes, then opened it a crack.

  Stick to the script, Laura. Don’t let him in.

  Voices came over the wire Laura wore. It sounded like she and Malcolm stood no more than five feet away. Laura’s voice shook. Who could blame her? She was facing a murderer. If Collins took a notion, she’d be dead in seconds and there would be nothing Jess or Phillip could do to save her.

  Phillip didn’t have a problem with her helping at the bar, but this was going too far. Yet she had insisted. Rather than argue, he relented. Now he wished he’d argued harder. He pulled up the night vision binoculars for a closer look.

  Malcolm leaned against the wall. "Didn’t mean to bust in on you, but I saw you at the bar with Stuart and thought you might need a little cheering up. You two have a tiff? Thought you might want someone to talk to."

  "I appreciate your concern, but I really don’t feel like talking about it, Mr. Collins. With all due respect, I don’t discuss my personal life with my friends. I certainly don’t feel comfortable talking about it to someone I barely know."

  "I understand completely. Been down the break-up road myself because of someone else. It’s been pretty clear where Stuart’s interest has been since he arrived. It’s enough to—"

  "Mr. Collins, please."

  "Sorry." He let his gaze wander to the bats catching bugs near the streetlights. "A little late for you to be working, isn’t it, Captain Cushing? Or are you burying yourself in your work to ease the pain of Stuart’s betrayal."

  She shrugged a shoulder. "Call it whatever you’d like. Not much else for me to do now. Besides I can’t sleep when I’m working on a big case. I get too wrapped up in it all. Trying to pull all the evidence together to nail the accused."

  "So, the evidence is pretty well stacked up against Staff Sergeant McKinley? After that pathetic attempt at a defense by Captain Stuart, I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t get life in prison. Just goes to show what happens when you let your personal life interfere with business. Something my wife never understood."

  "It does seem that the evidence weighs heavily against her. I should know more by Monday morning…unless something delays the lab report. Oh, that reminds me. Tell me, Mr. Collins, did NCIS ever identify that new set of fingerprints that were found at the murder scene?"

  "Fingerprints?"

  "Yes, the ones found on the floor next to the deceased. A fingerprint expert retained by Jess Alderman located them this morning. Faint, but there. I’m not surprised your team missed them. It took a specialist to lift those prints. They didn’t belong to the accused or the deceased. Anyone who has been in the building since has had gloves on."

  Malcolm caught a moth in his fist and squeezed, then tossed it to the ground. "First I’ve heard of it. Wonder why I wasn’t notified?"

  Laura hiked a shoulder. "It wouldn’t surprise me if Alderman was trying to hog the glory for himself. Just like Phillip. Two peas in a pod. Well, I’ve got to get back to work. Thanks for checking up on me."

  With a casual wave, Malcolm walked away. Once the door was shut, he picked up his pace.

  "And there he goes," Jess mumbled. "How much do you want to bet he heads straight for the NCIS office to snag those prints?"

  "Just like a rat to peanut butter," Phillip said as they watched Malcolm’s truck tear out of the parking lot.

  "My men are waiting for him," the military police chief said. "Also have a team watching the hospital, just in case. Wherever he goes, we’ve got him."

  Phillip had his doubts. Collins wasn’t stupid. This man watched and waited. With Rusty’s statement they had enough to haul him in now. Why they played this game now Phillip didn’t know. Still, he sat in the cramped confines of the surveillance van, mouth shut, heart pounding, waiting for word.

  The police radio crackled to life. Someone had set off the armory alarms, mobilizing a base-wide shut down and the force. Not hard to figure out who.

  Phillip grabbed the chief’s arm. "It’s a trick. He’s used it before. Tell your men not to leave the NCIS building or the hospital."

  "Calm down, Captain. My men know their job. All Collins succeeded in doing is shutting any escape route for himself."

  Phillip snorted. "The man and his cohorts have been sneaking on and off base for months without being detected. He knows a hundred ways off this base. What he succeeded in doing is tying your hands."

  The chief stared at him for what seemed an eternity, then pulled the van onto the road. They eased to a stop around the corner well within sight and a short jog from the NCIS building.

  "Let’s go." The chief opened his door and jumped out. "Captain Stuart, please—"

  "Stay behind?" He snorted. "I’ll stay out of the way, but not behind. I’ve come this far with you, taking it to the finish isn’t going to hurt."

  "Remember that if you get caught in cross-fire."

  With no further discussion, they trotted into position behind the two young MP’s. Collins hadn’t bothered to hide his presence. His vehicle sat in the parking lot fully illuminated under the streetlights.

  Weapons drawn, they overtook the building. Phillip hugged the rear, but even from that vantage point he saw the light from Collins’ office. A paper shredder hummed. Every few seconds, another piece of evidence buzzed through its blades.

  Jess nodded and the team advanced.

  "Halt!"

  Startled, Collins jumped back and flung his hands in the air. Pages of the investigation report scattered across the floor.

  Collins laughed off their presence and dropped his arms. "You scared the daylights out of me. What did you think I was, a burglar?"

  Phillip squatted to pick up the papers. Each one was labeled as the investigation into the death of Charles Kemp. "Why don’t you tell us, Mr. Collins?"

  Jess holstered his weapon and straightened his suit jacket. "Y
ou’ve got some explaining to do, Malcolm."

  He had the nerve to laugh. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

  Phillip waved his hand over the scattered pages. "Oh…I think you do."

  With a slow shake of his head, Jess motioned to the MP’s. "Take him out front."

  Each grabbed one of Collins’ arms and escorted him to the waiting room.

  "I never thought I’d be interrogating one of my own," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

  "Better yours than mine," the MP chief said. "For a while I was beginning to wonder."

  He scratched his head and avoided Phillip’s gaze. "Sir, all I can do is apologize. Those who treated Staff Sergeant McKinley less than honorably will be formally counseled. If I can prove any other charges, they will be dealt with appropriately."

  Phillip nodded. "I appreciate that. Had I been in your situation, I can’t say I wouldn’t have felt the same way."

  Jess heaved a breath. "Yeah, well, I guess I’d better get this over with." He dug a toothpick out of his pocket, shoved it between his teeth, and strode forward. "Malcolm, as I said, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do."

  A smirk cut Collins’ features. "I still don’t know what you’re talking about."

  "Don’t play games. By now the police will have picked up your scrap-selling partner. I’m sure he’s not going to hesitate to spill his guts, especially when he discovers his friend is dead. I’m not getting any younger, Malcolm. Do me a favor and make it easy on us both."

  Collins smirked and kept his mouth shut.

  Jess dropped his head in a slow shake. "Very well… Cuff him."

  The younger of the two MPs approached Collins, handcuffs open for his wrists.

  Collins lunged for him, snapping a choke-hold around his neck. With his free hand, he plucked the pistol from the lance corporal’s holster.

  "Everyone back off," he snarled, pointing the 9mm pistol at the young Marine’s head.