by Debby Giusti
Except Phil was a sweet-talking Cajun, which remained a problem. Luckily, their relationship was totally professional. Once the investigation was over, their paths would part.
Leaving the kitchen, Kelly heard a vehicle drive by on the road. Pulling back the drapes ever so slightly, she glanced at the taillights heading back to town. The pickup truck looked familiar. So did the reflective unit crest on the rear of the cab. Phil?
Had he doubled back to the farmhouse? And if so, why?
As she crawled into bed later that night, Kelly couldn’t stop wondering what he had been doing. Just as her body relaxed and she drifted to sleep, the rumble of her garage door startled her awake. Reaching for her gun with one hand, she pulled back the covers with the other and stepped onto the carpet, every muscle on alert.
Easing back the bedroom curtain, she stared into the darkness outside. Her gaze took in the driveway and the two-lane road void of taillights or headlights or anything that indicated a passing vehicle.
Weapon in hand, she left her bedroom and slowly made her way along the hall. Pausing at the entrance to the living room, Kelly scanned the room. The drapes were still drawn and the furnishings as she had left them. The tiny light inside the curio cabinet in the corner illuminated her mother’s teacup collection. The cups and saucers were intricately hand painted and trimmed with Florentine gold. Although Kelly doubted they would be worth much monetarily, they were priceless to her.
Moving slowly into the dining area and then the kitchen beyond, she continued to listen for the sound of an intruder. Instead she heard the hum of the refrigerator and the movement of water as the ice maker filled.
The garage door had never malfunctioned since it had been installed eight months ago. Now in one night, the door had unexpectedly activated twice.
Pretty common to find duplicate systems programmed to work on the same frequency, which could cause a problem if another person clicked their remote as they drove by her house. Although that seemed unlikely. Still, it was an explanation, and the best one she could come up with at the moment.
Squaring her shoulders, she reached for the kitchen door and eased it open. The overhead light bathed the garage in light.
Glancing quickly around, she let out the breath she had been holding. Nothing was waiting on the other side of the door except cold air and her car. Still gripping her weapon, Kelly stepped into the open garage and glanced out at the front yard.
Wind blew through the tall pines and sturdy hardwood trees. The eerie sound and the chilly night air sent a shiver down her spine. Shrugging off her concern, she turned to go back inside and pushed the button to lower the garage door.
As it started to engage, her gaze swept the interior of her Corolla. Something caught her eye. Kelly leaned down to take a closer look.
A length of thick hemp was wrapped around her steering wheel. One end of the rope had been cut in two. The opposite end was tied in the noose—the same noose that had wrapped around her ankle earlier tonight.
The hair on her neck rose in protest as the garage door slammed shut behind her. She jumped at the sound. Her left hand flew to her heart, which pounded hard against her chest.
Had Kyle Foglio followed her home and placed the rope in her car? Or was someone else trying to scare her?
SIX
The next morning, Kelly entered post through the main gate well before dawn and passed Phil’s headquarters on her way to the live-fire training range. One lone streetlight illuminated the small parking area near the bleachers where she left her car.
The temperature had dropped in the night, and she pulled her blue windbreaker closed to keep the cold at bay. A layer of frost crusted the ground and crunched underfoot as she walked across the barren terrain.
She should have brought gloves. Her hands felt stiff from the cold, and she rubbed them together, hoping to increase circulation.
Approaching the crime scene, she envisioned how the platoon had spread out in formation as they advanced toward the rise. Cresting the hill, she spied a wooden target in the distance. The so-called objective had been cut out of plywood to symbolize an enemy armored personnel carrier.
She neared the target and examined the rounds that had found their mark. Before she turned to retrace her steps, the sound of footfalls signaled she wasn’t alone.
Her neck tingled a warning. Common knowledge the guilty often returned to the scene of the crime.
Kelly reached for her gun. Stiff though they were, her fingers wrapped around the cold steel handle as she turned to face the approaching visitor.
A form in the darkness drew closer.
Kelly aimed her gun. “Disturb my crime scene and I’ll haul you into the stockade faster than you can say Uncle Sam.”
The figure stopped dead in his tracks as the first rays of light broke over the horizon.
“Do you always pull your weapon on unsuspecting soldiers?”
Kelly let out the breath she had been holding. “Only when they sneak up on me in the dark. What are you doing here, Phil?”
“Trying to find you. I saw you drive by the company and attempted to flag you down. Evidently, you didn’t see me waving my arms.”
“Flag me down? For what reason?”
“To tell you I’d made a pot of coffee and stopped at the bakery on post for doughnuts. I thought you might be hungry.”
“You followed me all the way out here just to tell me the coffee’s on?”
He nodded. “My Aunt Eleanor always said a man needed to start the day with his belly full.”
Kelly let out a frustrated breath and shook her head. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman, and my belly does not need to be perpetually full.”
She holstered her weapon. “But coffee sounds good, and I doubt I’ll find anything in the dark that I didn’t see yesterday. The temperature must be hovering around the freezing mark.”
“Twenty-nine degrees a couple of hours ago when I came to work.”
“Didn’t you leave my house a couple hours ago?”
“Six hours to be exact. Long enough to catch a few winks of shut-eye and then shower and change uniforms. I don’t know how the CID handles short nights, but I’m good to go.”
“And I will be after coffee. But first, I need to know what you did last night after you left my place.”
“You must have seen me pass your house.” He stamped the ground with his feet. “I was concerned about Mrs. Taylor being alone and drove back to the farmhouse. I’m not sure if I planned to knock on her door or just salve my conscience that she was okay.”
He shrugged. “Turns out a beige pickup truck was parked outside. A decal that looked like our unit crest was on the back bumper, so I’m pretty sure one of the wives must have visited her.”
“That’s good. I was worried about her, too.”
Phil pointed to where Kelly had parked her car. “We might be more comfortable discussing everything at my company headquarters.”
“I’ll follow you.”
Together they hustled to their vehicles and met up back at the company. Phil motioned her into his office. Although not large, the room was big enough for a good-size desk and two comfortable chairs. Kelly settled into one of the chairs while Phil headed for the small table in the corner that held the coffeepot. The rich aroma of the fresh brew filled the room.
“Cream or sugar?”
“A little of each, thanks.”
Phil fixed a cup and took it to Kelly before he opened a box of doughnuts on his desk and offered them to her, along with a paper plate and napkin.
“I’m impressed. You think of everything. Must be Aunt Eleanor’s influence.” She placed two doughnuts on her plate and took a bite of one before she noticed powdered sugar had fallen onto her lap. Brushing it off, she smiled. “I seem to be making a mess.”
Despite her tough-as-nails CID facade, when the special agent let her guard down, she had a charming demeanor he found enticing.
“I told my execut
ive officer to gather the men together so you and I can talk to each soldier individually, after we visit Lola Taylor.”
“That works for me.”
“I knew you would want to review the live-fire operations order from yesterday’s exercise.” Phil handed her a file from a folder on his desk. “My platoon leaders and the battalion staff have reviewed the op order. No one sees anything that could have led to the training accident.”
“So you’re convinced it was an accident?”
“Yes, but I’m counting on you to determine the how and why.”
She nodded. “Hopefully, I’ll have that information by the end of the investigation.”
When she finished the doughnuts, she wiped the napkin over her mouth. “I called the local authorities on my way to post and talked to an officer named Tim Simpson. He hasn’t been in town long and wasn’t sure who owned the land adjacent to the Taylor property, but he said he’d make some inquiries.”
“Excellent.”
“He did mention a campsite located about half a mile from the main road. An old geezer used to hole up out there in a broken-down trailer.”
“Have they seen him recently?”
“The neighbor to the south heard a volley of shots a couple months back and notified the police. When they arrived at the campsite, the trailer was deserted. As far as they know, the old guy has never returned.”
“Did they suspect foul play?”
“No one issued a missing-persons report.”
“Might behoove us to take a drive out there and see what we can find.”
Kelly nodded. “Then afterward we can talk to the two Mrs. Taylors.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Chaplain Sanchez peered inside. “You mentioned coffee and doughnuts?”
“Come in, Chaplain.” Phil filled a foam cup and pointed out the cardboard container of creamer and the sugar packets. “I’ll let you doctor it up to your own taste. Help yourself to the doughnuts.”
“Appreciate it, Phil.”
“How are the men this morning?” Kelly asked as the chaplain fixed his coffee and gobbled down a doughnut.
Phil settled into the chair behind his desk. “It’s a tough call. Sleep helped, but their morale’s at rock bottom.”
“I talked to Stanley.” The chaplain took a sip of his coffee. “From the way he looked, he must have been awake all night. I prayed with him and that seemed to help. On my way out of the barracks, I ran into Sergeant Gates.”
“He’s Stanley’s squad leader,” Phil informed Kelly.
“Gates called him impetuous,” the chaplain shared.
Phil reached for a doughnut. “Actually, he’s a good kid, but he sometimes acts before he thinks. Of course, I could say the same thing about a number of the soldiers in the company.”
The chaplain nodded. “Probably so. At least Stanley knows the Lord. That goes a long way.”
“Any idea of the value of the Taylor land?” Kelly asked.
“From the number of new home sites going in around the area, land values have to be going up.” Phil scooted back in his chair. “The army’s slated to send more troops to Rickman next year, and more housing will be needed to accommodate the growing number of military families in the area.”
The chaplain reached for a second doughnut. “What are you getting at, Kelly?”
“Lola said her husband was an only child, so the farmhouse and surrounding land would have gone to Corporal Taylor upon his mother’s death. Now the property will go to his widow.”
Phil wrinkled his brow. “You mean when Mildred passes on?”
“Exactly.” Kelly nodded. “We need to keep our eyes open.”
Phil shook his head. “But that has nothing to do with Corporal Taylor’s death, Kelly.”
“How do you know that? I want to learn more about Corporal Taylor. His mother. His father. Anything could have bearing on the investigation.”
Phil frowned. “His dad died a few years ago.”
“Actually, Kelly’s got a point.” The chaplain took a final swig of his coffee. “It’s a known fact that fathers play an important role in their children’s lives. Studies have even shown that a person’s relationship with the Lord is based on how his or her father viewed God.”
“But we’re not focusing on Taylor’s religious beliefs, Chaplain.”
“No, but that paternal influence has to play into other areas of a person’s life, as well. The virtues they espouse, their own feelings of self-worth, their work ethic and determination to provide for their families are all impacted by how they view their father.”
Phil pursed his lips. He couldn’t read Kelly’s expression. Yesterday, he had gotten the impression her relationship with her dad had been less than ideal.
“What about a mother’s influence?” Kelly asked.
“In most cases, the mother remains with the children, even in a divorce situation, so she continues to be a steadying influence in her children’s lives.”
Phil bristled. “Sounds as if we’re we discussing sociology issues instead of the Taylor family.” He glanced at his watch and then eyed Kelly. “How ’bout an early-morning drive? We can check out the deserted trailer and then stop by the farmhouse.”
“You bet.” She rose and placed her mug near the coffeepot.
He noticed her limp. “What about the leg?”
“A bit swollen, but it’ll get better with time.”
“Sick call runs until 0900 hours. We could postpone the trip until you see the doc.”
“I’m okay, Phil.”
He turned to the chaplain. “Care to join us?”
“Thanks, but no. I’ll hang around the company in case anyone else needs to talk.” His cell rang. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he flipped it open and raised it to his ear.
“This is Chaplain Sanchez.” He nodded, listening to the caller. “Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes.”
The chaplain closed his phone. “Lieutenant Colonel Knowlton wants to see me.”
A warning flag went off in Phil’s mind. “About the investigation?”
“I’m not sure. He knows I’ve been talking to the men and probably wants my impression on how they’re doing.”
The muscle in Phil’s neck twitched. “Which I could have discussed with him, as well.”
“No reason to be on the defensive, Phil. He’s looking for answers, that’s all.” The chaplain patted Phil’s shoulder. “The Lord provides. Put your trust in Him. He’ll take care of you and the men.”
“Your confidence in the Divine is a little late in coming, Chaplain. If the Lord had been on my side, Corporal Taylor would still be alive.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t know the reason why bad things happen, but scripture assures us that all things work for good. Hold on to that promise.” Sanchez threw the empty cup into the trash can. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Once he had left, Phil grabbed his beret and motioned Kelly toward the door. “Did you buy into what the chaplain said?”
“The part about fathers and their children, or his suggestion that you turn to the Lord?”
“Both.”
“I put my trust in my weapon and my own ability.”
“What about your father?”
“He wasn’t in my life long enough to have any influence on me.”
Phil couldn’t say the same. Everything he’d done since he was twelve had been to prove he was a better man than his father had been. At this moment, he wondered if what he had believed for the past seventeen years had been a lie.
SEVEN
“Law enforcement. CID from Fort Rickman.”
Kelly knocked on the door of the deserted trailer, her right hand on her weapon. A side window had been patched with plywood and duct tape. One of the tires was flat.
She hesitated for a moment and then reached for the handle and inched the door open.
“Careful,” Phil cautioned.
Her gaze flicked right and then left to ensure no one was insi
de before she climbed the steps. The interior was small and smelled musty.
Glancing at the trash can, she noticed a fast-food wrapper and a portion of a hamburger bun. “Looks like someone’s been here recently.”
Phil stood beside her, taking up much of the confined area. The hair on her neck tingled with his nearness, and she took a step back to put space between them.
The washroom door stood closed. Kelly pulled her gun and eased it open. A shirt hung on a hook on the back of the door. Using the tip of her weapon, she laid the shirt on a nearby counter. The front was torn and spattered with blood.
“The kid from last night?” Phil asked.
“Looks like it. He must be staying here. What made those cuts in the fabric?”
Phil shook his head. “I don’t have a clue, but whoever attacked the kid kept jabbing at him.”
“Let’s take a look around.” Once outside, Kelly pointed to a path that cut into the woods. “It has to go someplace, right?”
With long strides, Phil moved ahead of her, and she struggled to catch up. His gaze scanned the landscape like a good officer scouting out the terrain. She should be doing the same, but her eyes kept returning to his long legs and the strength of his muscular arms. She couldn’t help but remember the sense of security she’d felt in his embrace last night.
Her world had turned upside down, and evidently, her judgment had, as well. Phil Thibodeaux was the least likely man to show up on her radar. If she were looking for Mr. Right, which she wasn’t, he wouldn’t be a Cajun.
Phil stopped and turned, evidently realizing she was having difficulty keeping up with him. His face broke into an apologetic grin. “I forgot about your leg.”
Sunlight danced across his ruddy cheeks and his lips opened ever so slightly as he stared down at her. She noted the flecks of gold in his twinkling eyes.
“Look, I’m okay. Besides, you taped it last night and the bandage is still in place.”
