Yellow Ribbons

by Caitlyn Willows

“I hate being interrupted. Don’t you?” The telltale snick of a switchblade answered the question for her. She gasped when the cold steel touched her skin.

  Chapter Two

  Lani Hollister saw the crime scene long before she reached it. In the desert, a person could see for miles. Flashing red-and-blue lights cut through the night, rivaling training flares bursting over the Marine Corps base. This scene was a mere two miles from her house. It’d taken her longer to put on jeans and a pullover sweater than it had to reach the house. She wondered if her location was why she’d received the call. It wasn’t usual for her to respond to a crime scene in town, even one involving military personnel. She couldn’t imagine why Jordan Beck had called her. Or why the Naval Criminal Investigative Service was on scene. It couldn’t be good. Judging from the emergency vehicles crowding the street, it was very bad.

  She parked her car as near as possible, two houses away. Neighbors hovered near the line of police tape edging the property, craning their necks for a better view. Two members of the Citizens Patrol made sure they stayed behind the yellow tape. God only knew what evidence the gawkers might have compromised.

  Lani paused by her vehicle, studying everything before she walked into the disaster. Wide yellow ribbons, weather worn and pale from at least six months on display, draped two towering palm trees in the front yard. A unit was scheduled to return in a couple of days from Afghanistan. In her heart, Lani knew a marine would come home to tragedy.

  Two little girls sat in the back of the ambulance, teddy bears clutched in their arms. Each wore Dora the Explorer pajamas and pink piggy slippers. Tears ravaged their pale faces. The youngest hiccuped with her sobs. Long light brown hair was sleep tangled. Blankets provided by the paramedics were draped over their shoulders against the crisp February night. Lani doubted the girls realized the blankets were there.

  She hated cases involving children, hated to see any situation where a child was traumatized. It ate at her gut, made her feel helpless. She glanced at the stars overhead, hoping to pull in some extra strength from the Milky Way, but the emergency lights drowned them out. She didn’t want to do this. It was the capper on what had been one suck of a day.

  Shoulders squared, Lani forced her feet to move. Boot steps running up behind her stopped her. A glance back revealed Master Gunnery Sergeant Greg Landess hurrying her way. He’d made it in record time. Very bad if both of them were here.

  “Captain,” he said, falling in step beside her. “Here already?”

  “A short drive for me, master guns,” she replied, grateful he’d matched his longer stride with her shorter one. She didn’t have the energy to try to keep up with him right now, and the man moved like Superman.

  “Any idea what we’re dealing with?”

  “No. Must be big if NCIS called us in.” Lani shook her head, even though she knew he was looking at the scene, not her.

  “Looks like every law enforcement agency in the area is on hand.”

  Not everyone, but close to it. Jordan was somewhere in all the hubbub. “At least we don’t have to contend with a media circus.” That was one of the many benefits of living in a small town.

  “That won’t be the case once the word gets out. Damn…kids,” he muttered.

  One of the male paramedics neared the girls. Their eyes widened, spilling more tears down their cheeks. The older girl wrapped her arm around her sister.

  “Not good.” Greg looked around. “I don’t see a woman in sight. Present company excluded.”

  Lani made another visual pass. There were female neighbors, but they’d all been relegated behind the tape. None dared to come forward to offer help for the children. “They could be just as terrified of me at this point.”

  “True, but if those were my kids…” He left the rest unsaid. How could anyone know what they’d do under these circumstances? The man had a big soft spot for children and animals. Lani always wondered why he’d never married and had a bunch of kids. At unit family functions, he was always in the thick of things, playing with the kids. Children adored him. Animals followed him like he was their god. Come to think of it, she knew a fair share of marines, young and old, who did that too.

  “You go inside. I’ll see what I can do for those girls. Report back to me once you know what’s going on in there.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He trotted off, and Lani picked up her pace and headed for the ambulance.

  The paramedic straightened when he saw her coming and met her halfway. He looked shell-shocked, maybe new to the job. Or else the scene was so bad, even a seasoned pro couldn’t handle it. She was glad she’d opted to stay outside.

  “I’m Captain Elaine Hollister, deputy provost marshal.” She extended her hand.

  He engulfed it with his paw of a hand. “Tom Barrow, ma’am.”

  “Saw the girls and thought I might be able to help.” A quick squeeze was the extent of their handshake.

  “They’re pretty shook up. Rightfully so. It’s…bad,” he finished in a whisper. “Mother was killed while they hid under their beds. Blood…all over the bedroom. Looks like murder/suicide. Deputies can’t get much out of the girls yet. Child Protective Services was called. Maybe you can calm them. Neighbors have been keeping their distance. No one even offered to help. Weird.”

  “Who called it in?”

  “The oldest girl called . Her name’s Susie. Her sister is Amber. Five and four. Mother’s Regina Whittaker, according to her driver’s license. I’ll give you some privacy.”

  She continued on to the ambulance. The older girl watched her; the younger one sobbed. Lani wondered if she should have taken the time to put on her charlies. Having a uniform on might have created a bond with the girls to see she was a marine too. The best she could do was make sure they saw the badge clipped to her waistband.

  “Hi.” She sat on the bumper, putting herself below their level and hopefully looking less threatening. “I’m Captain Hollister. I work with the police on base. You can call me Lani. What are your names?”

  Several seconds passed while the two debated their response. Finally, the older one pointed to the badge on Lani’s jeans. “Are you a police officer?”

  “I am.” She smiled, inviting confidences and trying to instill a sense of calm she sure as hell didn’t feel. “I’m the deputy provost marshal on base.”

  “A captain,” the girl repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “Our dad’s a captain.”

  Shit.

  “I want my daddy.” Tears swam in the little one’s big blue eyes. “We put those up for him.” She pointed to the yellow ribbons. “He wasn’t here for Christmas. The man was. He told us there was no Santa. He’s a liar.”

  “What man, sweetie?” Lani touched the little girl’s knee.

  “The man who hurt our mama,” the older one replied. She snapped upright and looked over Lani’s shoulder, her eyes wide and fearful once more.

  Lani looked around, then stood when Greg motioned her his way. They retreated to a distance out of the kids’ earshot.

  “It’s one of ours,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  She frowned, running the personnel roster in her head. No one came to mind. “The mother?”

  “The man who presumably killed her. Staff Sergeant Roger Tipton, CID. It looks like a massacre in there. After he was done with her, he slit his throat.”

  That might explain why they were called in. “I’m surprised the major isn’t here.”

  “Jordan said he called but got no answer and no voice mail. That’s why he opted to call us, because he knows we’re closer.”

  Which begged the question of why NCIS was on top of this? “Are we sure this is murder/suicide, not murder/murder?” Which didn’t make it any better. Two people were dead. Shit was going to hit the fan.

  “Sheriff’s coroner arrived about ten minutes before us. I don’t think anyone’s sure of anything at this point. You learn anything from the kids?”

  “Their dad’s a captai
n. A man who told them there was no Santa hurt their mother.”

  “Bastard…on many levels.”

  Stark shadows cut angles in his clenched jaw. She might outrank him, but Greg Landess was not a man Lani ever wanted to cross.

  “I’m finding this very hard to process. Tipton was a top-notch marine. One of the best.”

  “Maybe that’s why he did this.” Lani doubted what she was about to suggest would do much to ease his upset. “Once adultery and fraternization were discovered, he’d be facing court-martial. His career would be over. Maybe he couldn’t deal with that.”

  Greg’s hard gaze settled on her, sending a shiver through Lani’s body. “Suicide, maybe. But murder? You can feel the rage in that bedroom.”

  “He blamed her for leading him astray?”

  Mouth twisted, he stared into space.

  “Okay, master guns, here’s what we’re going to do.” Take charge. That was her job, the part Lani had a love/hate relationship with. “I’m going to see what Jordan’s got. All things considered, it was a courtesy that he called us in the first place. I don’t care who you have to wake. I want you to find out who the husband is and what unit he’s with. I’m sure the neighbors can at least provide some information. Try not to step on any local deputy sheriff toes in the process. Contact the unit’s Key Wives and see if someone can take the children until their father returns. I’m sure CPS won’t have a problem with them going to a friendly, familiar environment rather than being put into the overloaded system.”

  “On it, ma’am.” He tilted his head a tad. “You eat tonight?”

  That brought her thoughts screeching to a halt. “No.”

  “Good. It’s brutal in there. I guarantee you’ve never seen anything like it. I know I haven’t, and I don’t want to again.”

  “Jordan let you in the crime scene?”

  “Juarez is one of the detectives assigned. You know he doesn’t have the best reputation. Ron Pattison called Jordan and asked him to be eyes-on until he could get here. Sad when even your partner doesn’t trust you. Juarez didn’t say a word when Jordan ushered me inside for a look.” He fished a logbook from his jacket pocket, his cell phone from his jeans, and walked away.

  Lani wrinkled her nose at that news. Anyone but Juarez. Apparently his partner felt the same way and was no longer bothering to hide his dissatisfaction at having been stuck with Juarez. Why else ask Jordan to back him up? Unless Pattison anticipated NCIS’s eventual involvement and made the call.

  She second-guessed her need to see the scene, though. If the sight shook a hardcore marine like Greg, she was screwed. Since the victim-suspect was one of theirs, a look was all either of them would ever be allowed. Jordan wouldn’t have allowed it if he didn’t need their expertise.

  As if he’d heard her mulling over her choices, Jordan stepped outside and looked right at her. A woman in her field couldn’t back down. On the surface, Jordan Beck was quiet, observant, methodical, and no one was a better special agent than he. She enjoyed working with him. His instincts were sharp, they had great camaraderie, and once a person got to know him, Jordan’s easygoing humor came through. Though she counted him a friend as well as an associate, Lani refused to show weakness of any kind in front of anyone. A woman marine officer in a law enforcement job? As much as the world might want to believe otherwise, it was still a man’s world. A smart woman showed she had the balls to handle it.

  She stopped at the rear of the ambulance long enough to tell the girls she’d be right back and found Greg squatting before them, the girls spilling everything they knew about anything. Given his rapport with children, she wasn’t surprised. Of course, hearing confidences was part of who he was. Greg had an open-door, no judgment policy. People came to him. He made things better.

  Lani braced herself for the inevitable clash with Benny Juarez and headed toward the house.

  When she stepped up to the door, Jordan held out some disposable booties to cover her boots. He never said a word. His gray-green eyes said volumes, though, none of it good. She slipped on the booties and crossed the threshold, expecting chaos. Other than the normal lived-in clutter of toys, magazines, and life, the living room was immaculate and the picture of domestic bliss. Family portraits covered the walls, the most prominent being a picture taken of husband and wife at the Marine Corps ball. It usurped a smaller wedding photo.

  Lani recognized the woman. Regina Whittaker frequented the gym. In fact, she’d seen her there earlier tonight; she just hadn’t known her name until now. Lani went to the gym to work out, not make friends. Maybe if she had taken the time to make friends, Regina Whittaker would still be alive. They would have spoken, not bypassed each other. A few minutes of chitchat that might have saved the woman’s life. Lani had no friends to speak of, with the exception of Cheryl Boyer, and that friendship was tenuous at best. As the deputy provost marshal, Lani had to keep her distance to avoid conflicts of interest. This was the cost.

  She pulled in a shaky breath and focused on the scene. Two deputy sheriffs were doing a preliminary check, looking for possible evidence outside the primary scene to help support upcoming conclusions. Neither looked her way. The true business end of the crime was down the hallway ahead.

  Wary of destroying evidence, she walked toward the bedroom. Cream-colored carpet pile was flattened from foot traffic but otherwise clean with no hint of anything other than the need for a good vacuuming. Halfway there the stench of death crawled up her nose.

  “Any idea how long ago this happened?”

  Jordan moved up beside her. “No clue. Kids have little concept of time as we know it.”

  No, but they sure as hell knew fear.

  Lani and Jordan went no farther than the doorway. Regina Whittaker lay spread-eagle, gagged and blindfolded with what looked like pieces of the lime green T-shirt she’d had on earlier. Yellow nylon rope bound her to the king-size bed. Her toes were pointed, fists clenched. Lani was glad for the makeshift mask. She didn’t want to see the terror that would have frozen Regina’s eyes open the moment she’d died.

  Blood spatter painted the walls and cream-colored carpet. Pools of it surrounded her body. Lani couldn’t see the wounds for all the blood. The room itself was trashed—lamps broken, clothing in shreds, high heels ripped off shoes. Rage. Pure rage had driven this attack.

  Tipton’s body was sprawled on the floor beside her; his eyes were bugged out. A gaping wound yawned from his throat. The butcher knife presumably used was near his bloodied right hand.

  Something was off about the scene, but Lani couldn’t figure out what it was. She studied the knots and rope binding the woman. Little care had been given for her safety. Burns from the yellow nylon rope ringed her wrists and ankles. The knots would have tightened with every move she made, cutting off circulation. Either the two were amateurs, or binding her had been part of the murder. If it was the latter, that smacked of premeditation.

  “How did you manage to get here so quickly, Mr. Shilling?”

  The coroner looked up and lifted a bushy black eyebrow. Weariness deepened his crow’s feet. “Unfortunately, I’d been called to another scene earlier today. I’d just finished up there.” He resumed his preliminary investigation of Tipton’s body. “I’m putting time of death between two and three hours ago.”

  “Call came in to an hour ago.” Jordan pulled a pack of peppermint gum from his shirt pocket and took a piece.

  “She was at the gym earlier tonight,” Lani told them. “About six. She was leaving as I was walking in. We exchanged a polite nod, but that was the extent of any communication I’ve ever had with her. I didn’t know who she was until now.”

  “So ten to fifteen minutes to get home. She’d have to get her kids, get them dinner…unless she had a sitter. Time of death between six thirty and seven thirty. Gum?” Jordan held the packet out to her.

  She waved off his offer. “Anything else you can tell me, Mr. Shilling?”

  Benny Juarez muscled his way past her. Lani c
ringed when she saw him. She’d been hoping Ron Pattison would be here by now and save them all the agony of Juarez’s presence. She’d had dinner once with Juarez by accident a year ago, both of them having shown up at the same time at the same restaurant. As far as Lani was concerned, it was one too many times. A pretty package hid the asshole inside. The man was too bossy, too much a braggart. He’d transferred in from San Bernardino, and word had it none of the local deputy sheriffs—especially Pattison—were pleased about that. Lani could see why. He was borderline incompetent.

  “Not your jurisdiction, Lani.” He also had little respect for rank. “Posse comitatus.”

  It was going to be a long night. Drive fast, Pattison. “I’m not here to enforce any laws or interfere with the investigation. The victims are Marine Corps family, and the commanding general will want as much information as we can provide. Trust me. I have no intention of doing anything to compromise this investigation. I was called to the scene by Special Agent Beck.”

  He glowered at Jordan. “Which reminds me… Why the hell are you here?”

  A subtle grin lifted one corner of Jordan’s mouth. “Your partner called me and asked for my eyes-on, since the deaths involved military personnel. I believe his words were… Well, that’s between the two of you. He wanted me to do whatever it takes to make this resolution seamless and speedy. Hence my calls to Provost Marshal personnel.”

  Now whose balls are bigger, asshole? “You were saying?” she asked of the coroner.

  “Well, I wasn’t saying anything yet. I just got here myself. There’s so much blood, it’s hard to make a clear determination, though it appears as though we’re dealing with a murder and a suicide. He’s got cuts on his hands consistent with stabbing.”

  “But with the rage involved, why take the time to tie her up first? And his throat—”

  “So much for not interfering or influencing the investigation.” Juarez snorted.

  “Give it a rest, Juarez,” Jordan snapped. “She’s asking relevant questions. If she hadn’t, I would have. I’m here at the request of your partner. In fact, I believe I was here before you, which begs the question… Where the hell were you?”