by Debby Giusti
“The area for the dignitaries was a distance from the bleachers where the local guests were seated, Kelly. Are you sure you saw the Foglio kid? Could it have been someone who looked like him?”
“I’m sure it was Kyle. He was with a girl. She had long brown hair and was wearing a denim jacket.”
“Sounds like a description that would match most teenage girls in the area.”
Kelly continued to read over the names. “There’s a Mrs. Meyers on the list. Is that the first sergeant’s wife?”
“Probably. The battalion notified us of some cancellations and asked if we wanted to fill the slots with family members.”
“Evidently she brought a guest.”
“Maybe one of the other wives. The final list was compiled while we were in the field.”
“There’s a Valerie Davis listed with a guest. Does that name sound familiar?”
“We don’t have anyone named Davis in the company, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t be associated with the battalion.”
Kelly punched Jamison’s number into her cell. When he answered, she said, “Do me a favor and see if you can find a woman or teen named Valerie Davis. She and a guest were at the live fire.”
“Kyle Foglio’s girlfriend perhaps?” Jamison asked, jumping to the same conclusion as Kelly.
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks, Jamison.”
“By the way, the chief is ready for this investigation to be wrapped up so he can send your report to the commanding general.”
“I need a little more time.”
“I’ll tell him you’re tying up loose ends.”
“I owe you.”
“And I’ll collect the next time I’m lead investigator. But, Kel, seems to me if you know the weapon, you should know who shot the round.”
“The soldier says he handed his rifle to someone right before Taylor was hit.”
Jamison guffawed. “Now that’s convenient. And you believe him?”
“I’m not sure what I believe at this point. The soldier seems squeaky clean.”
“Or perhaps a good actor?”
She shrugged. “Phil vouches for him.”
“Yeah? Well, Phil doesn’t want one of his men brought up on charges of manslaughter, now does he?”
Kelly bristled. No matter what Jamison believed, Phil had been forthright throughout the investigation and was as committed as she was to find out what had happened.
“I need to go, Jamison.”
As Kelly disconnected, she realized the only defense Private Stanley had offered was that the rifle had been out of his sight for a minute or two. He had never questioned that the fatal round had been fired from his M-4.
As she and Jamison both knew, the soldier’s story wouldn’t hold up in a judicial inquiry. Private Stanley would be found guilty of fratricide whether it was intentional or not. Would Phil be found negligent, as well?
Her chest tightened, knowing she was running out of time. Kelly needed to find out what Lola Taylor was doing at the farmhouse. Somehow it tied in with Corporal Taylor’s death.
FOURTEEN
The chaplain was standing outside the funeral home when Phil pulled his pickup into the parking lot and rolled down his window.
“Lola hasn’t arrived yet?” he asked Sanchez.
The chaplain shook his head. “She called and said she was going to be about thirty minutes late.”
Phil turned to Kelly, sitting in the passenger seat. “Shall we wait?”
Kelly glanced at her watch. “Kyle Foglio’s stepmother lives nearby. Why don’t we see if she’s home? It shouldn’t take long.”
“We’ll be back,” Phil told the chaplain.
Following Kelly’s directions, Phil found the residential area and the modest ranch at the end of the block. He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine.
Climbing out of his pickup, he glanced through the garage window. “Looks like no one is home.”
Kelly pointed to the house. “Let’s check out the residence while we’re here. If Kyle has a key, he may have been staying here while his stepmom was gone.”
Their knock went unanswered, and they saw nothing unusual when they looked through the windows.
Opening the street mailbox, Kelly peered inside. “No mail, which means either the mailman hasn’t come today or Mrs. Foglio is having it held at the post office while she’s out of town.”
They climbed back into the truck and retraced the route they had taken earlier. Just as they turned onto the main road, Kelly nudged Phil’s arm. “Do you see what I see?”
He followed her gaze. At the far end of the next block, a late-model blue Buick had pulled to the curb. The driver handed something to a teenager who stood on the corner. He passed something back into the car, all the while glancing up and down the street and then over his shoulder.
“That’s Kyle Foglio.” Kelly pulled a pen and notebook from her purse. “Can you read the license plate?”
“A Georgia tag caked with mud.” Phil squinted. “I can’t see the number.”
Kelly scooted up on the seat. “All I can make out is H8.”
Phil increased his speed and approached the vehicle. The kid turned to stare in their direction. He said something to the driver of the car and then ran into a nearby alley. The car pulled away from the curb and turned right at the next intersection.
“Let me out,” Kelly insisted. “You follow the car. I’ll run after Kyle.”
“Your leg, remember? I’ll take the kid.”
Pulling to the curb, Phil jumped from the truck. He raced across the street and into the alleyway. Two overturned garbage cans blocked his path.
Phil leaped over the obstacles and increased his speed. He always maxed the company PT tests and came in first in the two-mile run, but today the combat boots he wore slowed his progress. Sweat dampened his uniform.
Up ahead, the alley veered right, then left and then right again. In the maze of turns, he lost sight of Kyle.
Surely the boy was just up ahead. Another turn, this time to the left. Rounding the corner, Phil stopped short. The alley ended at the edge of another street. Cars cruised along the thoroughfare.
Phil glanced right and then left.
A few townspeople ambled along the sidewalk, admiring the wares displayed in the shop windows. A man walked his dog. A mother pushed her baby in a stroller.
Phil blew out a series of quick breaths and then jammed his fist into his outstretched palm. The kid had disappeared.
Frustrated, Phil double-timed back to where he had left Kelly. Concern wrapped around him as he hastened toward the intersection. Kelly and his pickup were nowhere in sight.
Once Phil raced into the alleyway, Kelly slipped behind the wheel of his pickup, gunned the engine and turned right at the next intersection. The road dead-ended at a three-way stop.
On a hunch, Kelly turned left. The street led toward the river that wound along the edge of town. A cluster of small mom-and-pop shops sat tucked back from the pavement.
At the fork in the road, Kelly headed under an overpass and pulled to a stop in a gravel lot that overlooked the water. Getting out, she scanned the waterfront. A breeze picked at her hair and filled the air with the smell of the river. In the distance, she saw a small marina where a number of locals kept their boats. A handful of cars were parked in a nearby lot but not one of them was blue. Kelly had made a wrong turn and lost the person driving the car with the muddied license plate.
Kyle had been doing more than just talking. Something had been passed back and forth. Kelly had worked enough narcotics cases to know drugs had more than likely changed hands.
Not that she could prove anything, but if nothing had been going down, then why had the kid run away? Hopefully, Phil would be able to catch up to him.
That hope vanished when Kelly approached the intersection and saw Phil standing alone. She pulled to the curb and rounded the truck to the passenger side.
Phil climbed behind the wheel. “Kyle had too much of a head start on me.”
“Don’t feel bad. I lost the car.”
“Let’s drive around and see if we can find either the kid or the Buick.” They spent the next fifteen minutes cruising the town. Their eyes focused on the nooks and crannies where a teenage boy could hide. Each parking area was closely examined in hopes they’d find the blue car.
Eventually they neared the funeral home. Phil glanced at his watch. “We haven’t checked the area where Mrs. Foglio lives, but I think we should stop now. The chaplain’s expecting us.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll find the Buick parked at the funeral home.”
Phil raised his brow. “You think Lola was the woman talking to Kyle?”
“They weren’t talking, Phil. She was probably selling the prescription drugs that belong to her mother-in-law.”
“Are you sure you’re not jumping to the wrong conclusion?”
Kelly didn’t like Phil’s comment. “How can you say it wasn’t drug-related?”
“The same way you think it was. We both saw what we wanted to see.”
“I didn’t make it up, Phil. Lola Taylor is acting suspicious about her mother-in-law’s medical condition. My guess is she’s selling Mildred’s drugs on the street. Today, Kyle Foglio was buying.”
Phil didn’t respond, and they rode in silence to the funeral home. Kelly walked ahead of him into a small office where she stopped short. Sitting in a chair, looking cool as could be, was Lola Taylor.
Sanchez sat next to her. He glanced up and smiled. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Kelly turned to gaze over her shoulder as Phil entered the room and acknowledged both Lola and the chaplain.
An associate from the funeral home hustled to carry two more chairs into the room. “Ma’am, please sit down.”
He unfolded the second chair. “Sir, please.”
Phil helped Kelly into the chair before he sat. “Mrs. Taylor, the unit collected a love offering for you.”
Before Phil could reach into his pocket, Kelly put her hand on his. “Mrs. Taylor, did you drive here?”
“No, actually I got a ride with a friend.”
“A friend? Who would that be?”
“A friend from town. She dropped me off and is doing some shopping now. I’ll call her when I’m ready to go home.”
Phil patted Kelly’s arm and lowered his voice so only she could hear. “You need to accept Mrs. Taylor’s explanation.”
“But—”
Kelly wasn’t ready to accept any explanation that didn’t add up. Lola Taylor had small-town crook written all over her, and Kelly needed to find out where she had stashed the Buick and any other pills she might be selling on the street.
Tension in the room escalated as Kelly wrapped her arms around her chest and stared at Lola. Phil gave the widow the love offering and explained how the men had wanted to help her. She seemed visibly touched and graciously accepted the money.
“Please…” Her voice was tight with emotion. “Please tell the soldiers how much I appreciate their thoughtfulness.”
Fearing Kelly might say something she would later regret, Phil mentioned he was needed back at post. Then, grabbing Kelly’s hand, he ushered her outside.
“She’s lying,” Kelly said. “I don’t believe a friend dropped her off. I’m sure she hid her car so we can’t search it for her mother-in-law’s prescription drugs.”
He raked his hand over his short hair. “She’s taking care of Mildred in her home. Didn’t you say that’s what you had wanted to do?”
Kelly put her hands on her hips. “And you reminded me that I couldn’t have cared for my mother when I was in the military.”
He nodded, realizing she was right. “You did everything you could, Kelly. I’m not saying you didn’t, but it’s as if you’re in competition with Lola. She’s living her life. You have to live yours.”
“Just so she doesn’t hurt Mildred.”
“I doubt she would, don’t you? I mean really, Kelly.”
She didn’t say anything until he had pulled out of the parking lot. “Let’s drive around some more, Phil. I want to keep looking for the Buick.”
“That you think Lola was driving?”
“No matter who was at the wheel, I need to find that car.”
He turned onto one of the side streets. “Okay, you direct me.”
They drove up and down a number of roads they hadn’t checked earlier but without success. Finally, they turned onto the street where Mrs. Foglio lived.
“Well, I’ll be.” Kelly pointed to the house at the end of the block. The late-model Buick with muddied license plate was parked outside the garage. Kyle’s stepmother stood at the mailbox at the edge of the road and pulled out a stack of mail.
“Looks like Mrs. Foglio finally returned home, and the mailman just made a delivery.”
Phil parked in the driveway.
“Mrs. Foglio?” Kelly called to her as they stepped from the truck.
The woman turned and raised her brows. Then she nodded. “You were with the CID department on post.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kelly introduced Phil. “Mrs. Foglio, we’ve been searching for your stepson. Did you know Kyle was back in Freemont?”
“I saw him when I drove in.” She glanced at Phil’s pickup. “I believe Kyle saw your truck before he ran off.”
“Why did you race away from us, ma’am?”
“Kyle said you were after him.” She straightened her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at Kelly. “If you must know, I didn’t want to get involved. Looks like I am now. What’s this about?”
“I have reason to believe Kyle entered my garage and tampered with my property.”
Mrs. Foglio’s gaze darkened. “Are you sure it was Kyle?”
“Agent McQueen saw your stepson a few nights ago on a back road,” Phil explained. “He ran off into the woods. Someone entered her garage that night and the next, as well.”
“Did you see Kyle in your garage?” the stepmother demanded.
Kelly shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
“Then how do you know it was Kyle?”
Unable to answer the question, Kelly asked, “Do you know where your stepson could be staying?”
“I talked to him for about thirty seconds before you two scared him off. He didn’t have time to tell me where he was sleeping, and I only had time to give him some money so he could buy something to eat.”
“What did he give you, ma’am?”
“If you must know, his dirty clothes. He’s been camping out for a number of days without a chance to wash his clothing. Kyle may have problems, but he’s a decent kid.”
“Does Kyle have a girlfriend in the area?” Kelly pressed.
“There’s a girl on post. Her name’s Maddie. I can’t remember her last name. She lives in the housing area near the bachelor officer quarters.” Mrs. Foglio turned on her heel. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to unpack.”
Phil and Kelly walked back to his truck. He held the door for her, then rounded the car and took a seat behind the wheel.
As he drove out of the residential area, Kelly picked up her cell and called Jamison. “I’ve got more information I need you to check. Kyle Foglio’s stepmother said he likes a girl who lives in the noncommissioned officers’ housing area behind the BOQ. See if Corporal Otis can find a teen named Maddie in that area. Another option is to check the high school.”
“His stepmother was right,” Phil said once she hung up. “You can’t prove Kyle was in your garage.”
“Now you’re sounding like a lawyer.” She focused on the road.
“Plus, Kelly, you’ve got to admit that you jumped to the wrong conclusion about Mrs. Taylor. She wasn’t selling Mildred’s drugs.”
Kelly crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe we should head back to post so I can finish up the investigation on your live-fire mission. The way it looks right now, I’d ha
ve to say the accident was a direct result of fatigue on the part of your soldiers.”
She was lashing out at him for no reason except she was frustrated and on edge. He had pushed Kelly too far, and she was reacting. She was a good CID agent, but she’d just been shoved into a corner, where evidently she didn’t want to be.
Regrettably, she believed Phil had made a very serious mistake. He thought back to when he was a kid. His dad had made a mistake that had cost two men their lives.
“The apple never falls far from the tree.” Once again, he heard the words Freemont police officer Tim Simpson had spoken. Only this time, he realized they just might be true.
FIFTEEN
Kelly admired her boss. Chief Agent in Charge Craig Wilson was competent and dedicated. He knew the ins and outs of law enforcement and felony crime, which was the CID’s main focus, but he also knew people and how to get the job done.
At the present moment, his full lips were pursed and his dark eyes stared at her over the top of his reading glasses. For some reason, she felt like a schoolkid standing in front of the principal.
“Sir, I’d like more time on this case.”
“Ballistics identified the weapon, and you’ve talked to the soldier involved.”
“Yes, sir, but as I mentioned, there seems to be some question as to whether he fired the fatal round. I told you Stanley claims he handed the gun to another soldier.”
“Who at this point remains unidentified?”
Chief Wilson was right, of course. “That’s correct, sir. I haven’t been able to find the person to whom Private Stanley supposedly handed his rifle.”
“The key word is supposedly. If the soldier wanted to deflect suspicion away from himself, introducing a nonidentifiable ‘other’ person is a logical tactic.”
“I understand that, sir. The company commander, Captain Thibodeaux, says the private works hard and is trustworthy. Chaplain Sanchez has talked with him. The young man has a deep faith, and the chaplain vouched for him, as well.”
“Which doesn’t mean he didn’t make a mistake at live fire.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“Is there anything else that plays into your investigation?”
