by Dale Mayer
“And all three incidences could be completely unrelated,” she said carefully.
He continued to stare at her. When she didn’t say anything more, he shrugged and walked toward the front door. “Text me when you get to work so I know you’re there and safe.” He let himself out of the apartment.
She didn’t say goodbye, but then neither did he.
He walked to his Jeep Wrangler—a favored personal vehicle among the SEALs—and considered his options until his phone rang. “What’s up, Mason?”
“You’ve been unofficially assigned to the investigation,” he said abruptly. “But it’ll cost you a few days off.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “What about the men in the hospital? How are they doing?”
“One is still unconscious. The other is recovering. He’s under heavy guard now. There have been no new incidences.”
“Well, there has been, just not one you know about.” He filled in Mason on the things going down in Deli’s life.
“She really thinks all that could be coincidence?” Mason asked in amazement.
“I know. Hard to believe. I’m sitting outside her apartment complex right now, waiting for her to go to work.”
“You’re to head to the military police station.”
Jackson could hear paper rustling on Mason’s end.
“You’re to meet two MPs by the names of Brown and Billings. And I’m giving you advance warning. They’re not impressed that you’re joining them.”
“What else is new?” Jackson said with a smile. He turned the keys forward in the Jeep’s ignition. “I’ll let you know how the day goes.”
“You do that.”
Just as he was about to pull into the traffic, he hit the brakes and watched Deli hop into her vehicle, reverse out of her slot and tear off toward her job. He pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street and followed her. Since he’d been keeping watch on her all night, he might as well keep watch on her a little longer.
When she pulled into the large garage where she would be working for the day, he honked the Jeep’s horn, then headed on toward the military police offices. He parked, hopped out, walked into the large room and identified himself. The woman at the front counter nodded and motioned at a chair for him to sit in.
He took a seat and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally he pulled out his phone and called Mason. “Still here. I’ve been sitting in the front lobby, waiting, for two hours. Nobody’s even willing to talk to me. I’ve got better things to do with my time than take this crap.”
Mason snorted a short expletive. “Yeah, you might as well leave then.”
After hanging up with Mason, Jackson rose to his feet, walked over to the receptionist and said, “Seeing how the two men aren’t willing to even talk to me, I’ll take it up with the brass when I walk out of here.” He pulled out the cigarette butt and the photos of the tire tracks and laid them on the desk. “I figured they’d want these. At least I am doing something to track down the shooter.”
And he turned to exit. He could hear shouts from behind him, but he ignored them and headed to his Jeep. The last thing he planned on doing was getting shafted in an investigation from supposed members on the same team. They either wanted his help, or they didn’t, but he had no intention of letting the investigation go, either way. He needed to figure this out. He’d do it with their help or without. He reversed the Jeep out of the lot as men ran out of the station. He ignored them and took off. He watched in his rearview mirror, lifted a particular finger and laughed. Sometimes being a bit of a rebel felt good.
Chapter 6
Work held no surprises this morning. It was Friday. Usually the best day of the week. Only not today. Too many odd scenarios from yesterday for her to have any feel-good moments today. Deli kept looking around to see if anybody was watching her. Odd, it wasn’t that she felt like she was being watched, but that sensation remained, what Jackson had been talking about, that somebody was after her. And that just meant it was prudent for her to keep an eye out.
At midday, Moe, who worked alongside her, said, “What the hell is wrong with you today?”
She shot him a hard look, lay down on her dolly and slid under the vehicle, ignoring him. When she came back out looking for a different wrench, he leaned against the grill of the rig, staring down at her.
“Are you expecting an ex-boyfriend to show up or something?”
“Like hell,” she said good-naturedly, sliding back underneath.
She kept working on the vehicles all day, but it was hard to focus. Her mind went off in a million different directions. Jackson had to be wrong. None of this could be related. Because, if it was, then something seriously ugly was going on. If it was just a phone caller, that was one thing. The intruder alone was another thing. But no way would she be the target for that shooting on the highway. That had to be completely different.
Maybe they were after Jackson. She knew he’d already considered that. And maybe it wasn’t that they were after either of them. Could be they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The trouble was, none of it made any sense.
By the time she wiped the grease off her hands and took off her coveralls, Moe still stood there, staring at her. She glared at him. “What’s wrong with you today?”
“You,” he snapped back. “You’re edgy, out of sorts. You keep looking over your shoulder, like you’re scared.”
Her hands fisted on her hips, her stance widening, then she paused. … She considered what he’d said and then said, “Does it really look like that?”
He nodded.
“I had an intruder last night,” she said slowly. “He came into my apartment building. I didn’t catch him. He took off on me. I guess I’m a bit edgy.”
Moe made an odd sound and straightened. He shoved his hands hard into his pockets. “And, of course, you called the cops, right?”
She just raised an eyebrow, walked over to the paper towels and dried her hands.
“You can’t be the big bad female navy mechanic all the time,” Moe snapped. “If I had an intruder, you know, sure as hell, I’d have called the cops.”
At that, she laughed. “Yeah, you probably would. But, because I didn’t have anything to tell them, there was no point in calling them.”
“They have to know there’s an intruder on base. You know we’ve had different run-ins at various times. It’s always a pain in the ass for everybody involved, but we want everybody on base to be safe, not sorry afterward.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Call Billings at the military police station,” he said. “He’s decent. He’ll talk to you.”
“Maybe,” she said noncommittally, not wanting to get edged into a corner where she felt like she had to do something like that. Her phone rang. She pulled it out, not sure why she expected to see Jackson’s name on the ID, but instead it appeared to be her caller. She groaned, hit Off and shoved the phone back in her pocket.
“And who’s that? Your new boyfriend?” Moe teased.
“Stalker,” she snapped. “My life is going to hell in a handbasket.” She exited the building at a rapid pace.
She hadn’t gone more than a few feet when Moe grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. “Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.
She brushed her hair off her forehead and glared at him. “Yeah, I’m serious.”
“And what’s to say that intruder wasn’t your stalker last night?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Then get your ass down to the MPs and tell them. All of it. Or I will.”
She glared at him, but she couldn’t do a whole lot now that she had opened up to him. Not only was he her boss, he was also right. She shouldn’t be making light of it all. It wasn’t that she was doing that as much as she just didn’t want to get involved in this investigation.
He gave her a hard shake. “Now. Do you hear me?”
She glared at him. “I hear you. But what
if it’s nothing? … Then I’m wasting everyone’s time. I’ll look foolish.”
“Better foolish than dead.” He dropped his hands and stepped back. “What if there have been other occasions of such an intruder, and nobody called?” Moe glared at her, twisting his mouth and shaking his head. “I’ll be calling Billings later tonight. If you haven’t contacted him, you can expect him to hear all about it from my point of view.”
She gave a quick nod and angrily headed toward her vehicle. She didn’t want to get involved with the police. She pulled out her phone and called Jackson instead. “My superior wants me to go to the military police,” she said without any introduction.
“Good. Not sure it’ll be of any help, but you need to at least report it. They can’t keep data on break-ins and know about similar cases if they don’t know about yours. One of the problems with serious crimes like that is so many people refuse to report them.”
She listened but could hear the distraction in his voice. “Where are you?”
“Just pulled into the hospital parking lot,” he said. “I’ll talk to the two men, see if they have anything new to share.”
“I could join you,” she said instantly.
“No,” he said. “You go to the MP station. I was already there. Complete waste of time for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was assigned to the investigation. The MPs are working the case with NCIS—doing the groundwork,” he said. “Yet, they wouldn’t even talk to me this morning. They let me sit in the front lobby for two hours until I walked. I dumped my complaint in the brass’s lap.”
“I wonder how I can use that?”
“What do you mean?” he said, his voice sharper.
“I don’t know,” she said, warming up to the beginning of an idea in the back of her mind. Feeling better, she headed down to the MP station. When she got there, the receptionist looked up and inquired about the reason for her visit. She explained and was told to take a seat and how somebody would come and see her.
“I was told to contact Billings,” she said.
“He’s not here right now,” the receptionist said.
“Oh. I already spoke to Jackson about this matter, so maybe I’ll continue to work with him instead of you guys.” She got up and walked toward to the exit.
Immediately the woman jumped up and asked, “Where are you going?”
“Jackson is part of this investigation,” she said innocently, “and you guys are unavailable. I’ll speak with him instead.” Deli shrugged, as if to say, What difference does it make? Then she reached for the door.
Instantly somebody from the back room came forward and said, “What can we do for you?”
She turned to look at the man standing there. “I think I’d rather report to Jackson.”
A frown crossed his face.
“I understand he’s on this investigation as well,” she said, “or do I have that wrong?”
The man and the woman exchanged a glance; then the man said slowly, “No, you’re not wrong. But, as you can see, he’s not here right now.”
“He was here for almost two hours this morning,” she said smoothly. “And apparently you guys wouldn’t give him the time of day. So I came in here to talk to one of you, but now I’ve decided I’d prefer to talk to him. At least he’s cooperative and available and willing to speak to me.” And she turned and walked back out.
She would rather talk to Jackson anyway. If the MPs had treated him like that, she expected the same disregard too. And she didn’t want anything to do with behavior of that sort either. Especially from other navy personnel. Seems sexism was alive and well in the States no matter who you worked for, but it was more pronounced in the military, she thought. She walked to her vehicle, pulled out her phone and called Jackson. “Well, they did acknowledge you’re part of the investigation, but that you weren’t here right now.”
Jackson laughed. “They can acknowledge whatever the hell they want,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m doing my own investigation.”
“Good,” she said. “I think I’ll join you. I told them that I’d tell you all about it anyway, and, seeing that you already know what’s going on, that just saved me the trouble of having to go over everything again.”
“Wait. What?” Jackson asked in surprise. “You didn’t tell them all the details?”
“Nope. I was asked to sit and wait. Like they did with you. I decided I had better things to do. So I told them that I was speaking to you.”
A startled silence hung on the other end of the phone, and then he started to laugh. “And why would you want to stir up a hornet’s nest like that anyway?”
“Why did you?” she asked, getting into her car. “We shouldn’t have to demand respect from our peers, not in America, and certainly not in the navy,” she said in a huff. “I’m coming to the hospital. See you in five.”
She reversed out of her spot and headed toward the hospital. She parked beside his Jeep and walked in, smiling at the receptionist. She knew where she was going and took the stairs. When she got to the correct floor, she walked up the hallway to see a security guard standing watch. She smiled up at him. “May I go in and see the men? Jackson is supposed to be here already.”
“He is.” The guard motioned her inside.
She stepped in to see one man in bed stretched out, still obviously on the mend, with Jackson sitting beside him. “So did you spill the beans and tell him all the juicy details?” she asked the patient.
The man on the bed looked at her in surprise and then grinned. “Deli?”
She nodded. “As I recall, you’re Max. I helped you fix a flat on the sly after you took a corner too fast, running into the median. You brought it to me in a panic, knowing you would get shit for it.”
Max grinned and chuckled. “Quite a memory you got there, lady. That was at least three years ago. I’ll have you know that I’m driving much more carefully now.”
“Good to know,” she said with a big smile. “Got yourself in some shit this time though, didn’t you?”
“So did you,” he shot back. “I understand from Jackson that the two of you got shot at before we went after them.”
She nodded. “And the MPs—even their receptionist—are pissed off that Jackson had himself assigned to the investigation.”
Max nodded. “I know. They don’t like to share information with anybody.”
“That’s all right. I figured we could do a little bit of sleuthing ourselves.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a license plate of a vehicle written on it. “So not only were the drivers switched out but so were the vehicles.”
“Whoa. What driver are you talking about?” Jackson asked.
“Remember the driver who was hurt and you were taking his place? He was assigned a military jeep, only that was switched for the transport rig you ended up driving. Maybe it’s nothing but …”
“Are we thinking that has something to do with the attack?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but, as far as anomalies go, that’s a big one.” She handed the note over to him. “Chester is still not back at work. Maybe we should pay him a visit. That would be the nice thing to do, wouldn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, he is convalescing at home after all.”
“Meaning, it’s a great time to ask him some questions. I like it.” Jackson hopped to his feet and turned to the patient. “We’ll let you know if we find out anything.”
“Do that,” Max said. “This is far more interesting then lying in bed, trying to heal.”
As she walked out, Deli asked Max, “How many more days?”
“I could be home tomorrow,” Max said. “It depends on my ability to move freely.”
“What you mean is, your ability to go wee-wee on your own,” she said with a chuckle. “Funny how bodily functions always rule our state of independence.” She grinned. “Let us know if you get loose of here. We can always give you a ride home.”
&n
bsp; His face lit up with a smile. “Hey, I appreciate that.”
She raced after Jackson, who was already striding down the hall. She called after him, “Wait up.”
He opened the door and held it for her. “Why should I wait? You would probably accuse me of being sexist and that you could open your own damn doors.”
“There’s never a sell-by date for manners,” she said.
He chuckled. “So now we have two vehicles. Why don’t you drive yours back to your place, and we’ll go in my Jeep?”
She considered that, then nodded. “Sure. You can pay for the gas.”
That startled a laugh out of him.
Back at her car, she hopped in and drove home. She parked in the space designated for her apartment, walked over to the Jeep as Jackson pulled up and got into the passenger side. “Do we have his address?”
“Yeah, we do. And a recent photo. He’s just a block or two away from here.”
Jackson pulled onto the main road and took a left, then a right. A series of apartments were up ahead.
She looked at them and said, “A friend of mine used to live here.”
“Yeah, which one?”
“An old girlfriend,” she said, “but she moved back East a few months ago.”
He led the way to the second-floor apartment. At the door he rapped hard enough to make sure it was heard. But there was only silence inside. He rapped again and again, still getting no answer. Frowning, he pushed on the door gently, and it appeared to be closed tightly. He tried the knob, but it was locked. He glanced at her. “If he was hurt enough to stay home for two days, you’d think he’d be here.”
“Or maybe he’s sleeping?” she suggested. “Particularly if he is on the mend.”
He nodded slowly, thought about it and then pulled a small tool kit from his pocket. He glanced left and then right, and then very quickly pulled out a thin tool and unlocked the door.
She gasped as he pushed it open.
He shot her a look and ordered, “Stay here.” And he shut the door with a hard snick in her face.
