Streamline

by Jennifer Lane

  “Can’t we meet somewhere later to talk?” Jason asked.

  Leo shook his head. “Sorry, I’m stuck in my dorm room all night for evening study.”

  “On a Saturday night?”

  “Welcome to the Navy.” Leo grinned. “I can receive phone calls on Friday — can this wait till then?”

  “No,” Jason insisted. “Listen closely, Leo. I want you to get reassigned to another company.”

  “What? I can’t do that!”

  “You can and you will.”

  “What’s this about, Jase?”

  “We were packing up Cam’s father’s office, and, well, we found a letter he wrote to Darnell Keaton.”

  “The lieutenant?”

  “Yeah, your company officer. It looks like they were having an affair.”

  Leo turned to Cameron. “Your dad and Lt. Keaton were having an affair?”

  Cameron nodded and looked down.

  “I’m sorry, Cam.” Leo couldn’t think of anything worse than a cheating father. “But what does this have to do with me?” Jason took a deep breath. “I think your company officer murdered Cam’s dad.” Leo’s eyes widened. “She fled Pensacola right after he died, Leo. It’s got to be a scorned lover exacting revenge.”

  “Except my dad was pleading for Darnell to take him back,” Cameron said.

  Jason let out an exasperated sigh. “That letter could mean a hundred different things.”

  Leo watched them argue, absorbed in thought. “Wait a minute.

  So maybe we can free Audrey’s dad if we can prove the lieutenant was the real murderer?”

  “No, Leo.” Jason stepped right up to the fence. “I don’t want you anywhere near that lieutenant. She’s bad news. That’s why you have to get reassigned.”

  “You don’t understand how things work here, Jase. I can’t just change companies. What am I supposed to say — ‘I request reassignment because my company officer’s a suspected murderer’? No way!

  Second Company midshipmen are my friends, my family.”

  “We’re your family!” Jason hollered. “I’m not sitting back and letting my kid brother hang around a killer — just to follow some stupid protocol.”

  “Have you told Mom about this?” Leo asked.

  “No, we just found the letter early this morning and Patti, er, Mrs.

  Walsh doesn’t even know. I had to beg Cam to tell you about it, but she agreed since she thinks you’re in danger too.” Leo glanced back at the dorm. “Crap, I’m gonna be late. Jase, I gotta go. Sorry. I’ll be careful. I promise. Thanks for visiting, and congrats on getting engaged.”

  “Leo!”

  His brother’s shout did nothing to break his swift stride.

  Leo hustled to the small firearm storage unit in Bancroft Hall, and his stomach dropped when he found the metal gate locked. There’d be hell to pay if he didn’t get his rifle logged and stored properly, and he couldn’t exactly tote the weapon to his dorm room.

  His heart hammered. Evening study time had already begun, and he had to get back to his room. Pronto. Scanning the empty hallway, he yanked open a storage closet and stashed the rifle, hiding it behind some mops and buckets.

  Leo sprinted through the passageways, and final y made it to his wing. He slipped into his room and gasped when he discovered his company commander already there, dressing down his roommate.

  Leo snapped to attention as Ms. Nevington halted her harass-ment mid-sentence. “Where’ve you been, Midshipman Scott? And don’t try to tell me you were in the head — your roommate here already checked.”

  Leo winced. He’d involved Benito this. “I was talking to my brother by the fence, ma’am.”

  “No visitors permitted!” Her eyes flared.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Both of you drop and give me fifty.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the roommates responded in unison.

  Once they finished, Nevington glared at Leo. “I hate to see what Lt. Keaton will do when she finds out you’re in trouble again.”

  “Lt. Keaton, ma’am?” Leo’s voice rose with alarm.

  “After the assault incident, she ordered me to report your rule infractions directly to her.”

  “Please don’t tell her, ma’am.” He hated the telltale fear in his voice.

  “You’re not up for a twenty-four hour march again, Midshipman Scott?”

  Leo paused to collect himself, willing his voice to stay steady.

  “I’ll take any punishment you dole out, ma’am. Just please, let’s not bother the company officer with this. It’s Saturday night, ma’am.” Nevington sighed. “Tell me one good reason I shouldn’t report you to her.”

  “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, ma’am?” The strangling noise from Benito was probably his attempt to stifle a laugh.

  Nevington glared at him. “Hilarious, Mr. Scott,” she finally said.

  “I guess we’ll give the lieutenant a reprieve from seeing your sorry butt in her office again. But I hope that little chat with your brother was worth it, because you just earned yourself five company tours after lunch this week.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Gentlemen, there’s been far too much drama. It’s only the middle of October. I want you to settle into plebe life and stop causing problems, got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Carry on,” Nevington instructed as she walked out, shaking her head.

  Leo’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t exactly welcome the drama either.

  “Lo siento, roomie.”

  “Just don’t do it again, gringo.” Benito grinned.

  Leo settled at his desk and extracted a textbook from his backpack. How was Lt. Keaton involved in the death of Lt. Commander Walsh? He stared blankly at the page before him. He was determined to decipher this connection. He owed it to Audrey.

  62. Rifling through the Past

  Leo’s mouth spread into a huge yawn as he tried to focus on his ocean topography textbook at his desk. Could this crap be any more boring? He struggled to clear his bleary eyes. If a firstie caught him snoozing during evening study, he’d get into even more trouble.

  Company tours would already cut into his study time.

  Leo winced again as the thought of Ms. Nevington’s disappointment in him. He hated the look of disapproval: tight jaw, downturned lips, annoyed eyes.

  He’d dodged additional looks like that by hunting down the midshipman second-class in charge of stocking ammunition for the small firearm storage unit. Leo had heard the guy was saving up to buy an engagement ring, and thankfully $100 was enough to get his rifle back where it belonged.

  Leo’s heart raced all over again just thinking about the morning’s subterfuge. He felt more awake with fear pumping through his veins, and Leo returned his attention to reading.

  The room was quiet until Benito’s frustrated sigh. He shook his head as he stared at his computer screen.

  “What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

  After another long sigh, Benito said, “No good. Lucia went out with my cousin.”

  “Okay. But isn’t she your ex?”

  “My cousin’s a snake. She deserves better.”

  “Sucks.”

  “Yeah.” Benito tapped his laptop, as if unable to keep still. “I need to be there. Protect her from that cabrón. Thanksgiving can’t come soon enough.”

  “A whole month.” Leo imagined Audrey in her swimsuit, and his focus was totally shot. He returned his attention to his roommate.

  “At least your shoulder’s holding up okay.” Benito nodded.

  “But you’re still slow as molasses,” Leo added. “I thought you were a good swimmer.”

  He barely had time to duck as a pillow whizzed over his head.

  He chuckled as Benito cussed him out in seven different languages.

  Leo approached, holding out the pillow as a peace offering.

  Benito grabbed it and glared. “Ain’t enough Percocet in the world for the beating I should give
you.”

  Leo froze. He wheeled around and trudged back to his desk, remembering what Dr. Ina expected him to do.

  He tried to read, but the words swam across the page. Abstract sea surface temperature readings and plate tectonics couldn’t hold a candle to the thoughts bouncing around his brain.

  Leo cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed before he even spoke a word. “So, I have therapy tomorrow.” Benito gave him a strange look. “Sí?”

  “And, um, kind of an interesting topic came up in session last time.” Leo kept his eyes focused on his desk. “You were just talking about Percocet, and well, you know, pain medication came up in my conversation with Dr. Ina too.” Leo’s head stayed down but his eyes peeked up. “Do you need those pills anymore?” Benito shrugged. “Nah, I haven’t taken any since July. They make me feel like crap. I was going to give them to my mom at Thanksgiving.”

  “Okay, good. Dr. Ina kind of ordered me to give them to her? Could I have them?”

  Benito looked confused. “She wants my Percocet? What, she run out of hers? Is your shrink a junkie or something?”

  Leo smiled. “Yeah, she probably could use some meds — she hurt her knee.” He jangled his leg. “It’s more like, wel , it’s more like… I’m the junkie,” he finally said. He held his breath as he waited for his roommate’s reaction.

  Benito looked puzzled at first but then grinned. “Good one, Leo.

  You had me going there for a second. Payaso.”

  “I’m not being a clown.” Leo swallowed. “I was hooked on Oxycontin.”

  Benito’s eyebrows shot up. “Oxy? You? That’s some serious stuff.”

  “No kidding. Detox was a nightmare.” Leo finally met Benito’s eyes.

  “Have you taken any of my pills?”

  “No, I swear. I’ve…I’ve thought about it though. That’s why when Dr. Ina forced it out of me, she made me promise to bring the pills to her.”

  “Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tempt you.” Leo shook his head vigorously. “No, this isn’t your fault…How would you know? It’s my fault. I don’t want to think about those pills, but I can’t help it. I’m so freaking weak sometimes I can’t stand myself.”

  “Weak?” Benito gawked. “This from the guy who can do more pushups than anyone I know? This from the guy who’s so smart he sets the curve in every class? This from the guy who put the smack-down on a very deserving firstie? I don’t think so. You’re super strong.”

  “You obviously don’t know me very well.”

  “¡Ay, Dios! Thank God you’re not perfect.” Leo looked up, startled.

  “I mean, it sucks you were hooked on pills, but dude, it’s hard living with Mr. Perfect all the time. Plebes refer to me as ‘Scott’s roommate,’ and I hear about you all day long. I’m just saying it’s nice to know you have problems too.”

  “Oh, Benito, I have a boatload of problems, believe me.”

  “Like what?”

  Suddenly Ms. Nevington stormed into the room, springing the plebes to their feet.

  She was in his face in an instant. “You think you have a boatload of problems? Just wait, Mr. Scott!”

  Panic sent adrenaline coursing through him.

  “Lt. Keaton’s ordered both of us to her office immediately, and she sounded completely ticked off on the phone. Do you have any idea what this is about?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Well, it’s something bad if she’s calling us in on a Sunday night.” She exhaled. “We have to be there, like, five minutes ago. Let’s move it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Leo grabbed his cover and preceded his superior out the door.

  He’d been through this drill before, with a painful, blistery outcome, and that was before he knew the lieutenant was capable of murder.

  He dreaded round two.

  Firstie and plebe entered the ice queen’s lair.

  As they stood at attention, Leo felt ripples of hostility emanating off the company officer. She certainly seemed witchy enough to be a murderess.

  Lt. Keaton sauntered around her desk, holding a piece of paper.

  “Company Commander Nevington, please look over this log and tell me what you see.”

  There was silence as Nevington read it. “This is a log from twenty October of this year, for the small firearm storage unit, ma’am.” As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Leo’s stomach flipped with dread.

  “That’s obvious, Ms. Nevington. Tell me whose rifle wasn’t logged in yesterday.”

  “Aye, ma’am.” After scanning down the page, Nevington gave a little gasp and looked at him. “That would be Midshipman Scott’s rifle, ma’am.”

  The lieutenant ripped the paper out of her hands and glided to her right, landing in front of Leo. She was much shorter than he, but clearly in charge.

  Leo trembled.

  “Captain Tracker ordered company officers to keep closer tabs on the weapon storage,” she explained. “Hence I’m here on my one day off, reviewing the logs. Midshipman Scott, when I discovered the absent notation by your name, I had the officer of the watch check the weapon storage. Curiously your rifle’s now back in place. What the hell’s going on?”

  Leo hesitated. He searched for an answer that wouldn’t turn him into a snitch.

  “Start talking now, Mr. Scott!”

  “I-I-I was late to weapons storage, ma’am! It was locked, ma’am.” Her eyes blazed. “Why were you late?” A truthful response was definitely unwarranted. He opted for silence, which apparently wasn’t a wise choice either as she drew even closer. He could feel her hostility hovering between them.

  Impending violence crackled in the air, and Leo recognized the threat in an instant. It had been quite a while since he’d been hit, and it almost felt comforting to await the beating. He’d broken a rule and needed to be punished. It was the natural order of things. However, this would be the first time he’d been hit by a woman.

  The lieutenant’s voice was shrill. “Do you think you’re special, Mr. Scott? Do you think you’re above the rules?”

  “No, ma’am!”

  “Bull. You think you can do whatever you want. You think you can hurt people and just get away with it!”

  “N-N-No, ma’am.” Who was she to tell him what he was thinking?

  An image of Audrey’s father sitting handcuffed in that awful brig flashed through his mind: Mr. Rose’s sad eyes, Mrs. Rose’s forced cheerfulness about leaving Audrey for months on end, Audrey’s embarrassment about her father’s imprisonment. Was this woman responsible for al that pain? Had Lt. Keaton murdered Lt. Commander Walsh, only to hide out at the Academy in the aftermath?

  Keaton’s breaths sounded ragged and shallow. “Scott, swear to God I’ll separate your from the Navy unless you tell me right now how that rifle got back into storage!” Leo’s heart raced. This murderer would not force him to rat out his peers. “You don’t want me here anyway, ma’am!”

  “Mr. Scott!” Nevington reprimanded.

  “You don’t want me to expose your secrets!” Leo shouted. “It’s all one giant setup to get rid of me!”

  In a split second, the lieutenant delivered a walloping punch.

  The blow glanced off of his cheekbone and threw his head to the side with a stab of pain. Then Leo felt Las Vegas’s hands on his elbows, steadying him to rejoin her at attention.

  His rattled brain took a moment to come back online. If there’d been any doubt a woman of the lieutenant’s stature possessed the physical force to strangle Mr. Walsh, it disappeared with that punch.

  Keaton seemed stunned. Her lips parted and her eyes froze, unblinking, as she inched back. Leo felt a trickle of warmth on his cheek and noticed the Academy ring on her hand. She’d cut him.

  Leo fought to keep his impassive façade as inside he stewed with strategies for exposing her. He was determined to make things right for Audrey.

  Groping for her desk, the lieutenant sank onto it, staring right through them with glassy eyes.
r />   Nevington finally spoke. “May we be dismissed, ma’am?” Her head bobbed slowly. “Dismissed.”

  They saluted, pivoted, and exited.

  A few feet down the passageway, Nevington ordered Leo to halt and glided around to face him. “What the heck was going on back there?”

  “I don’t know…I’ll find out, ma’am?”

  “Right.” She exhaled. “You got that shiner from a wayward rifle butt during infantry drilling. You understand, Mr. Scott?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His voice sounded hollow.

  “You don’t breathe a word of this to anyone while I figure it out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “So much for stopping the drama, Mr. Scott. Let’s get back to our wing.”

  63. Tracking Down the Truth

  Las Vegas took in the dark wood paneling and rich burgundy curtains of her quiet surroundings in the antechamber. She’d never visited the commandant’s office before, and she hoped this would be her only time.

  A lieutenant nodded to her from his desk, and Viva rose to enter.

  As she snapped to attention, her deep breath did nothing to quell her anxiety. She was quite possibly making a huge mistake, but Whiskey had agreed that she needed to come forward.

  “Second Company Commander Viva Nevington reporting, sir.” Captain Sean Tracker rose and returned her salute.

  Wow, he’s got to be at least six-seven. Captain Tracker’s sharp green eyes appeared to miss nothing.

  “At ease, Ms. Nevington,” he said. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before?”

  “No, sir.” This was surreal.

  “Well, I know you’re one of our best volleyball players, but I don’t know where you’re from.”

  “Minnesota, sir.”

  “Really.” He smiled. “We don’t get many northerners in the Navy.”

  “It is the land of ten thousand lakes, sir.” Captain Tracker chuckled. “Oh yah, you betcha, Ms. Nevington.”

  She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at his poor imitation of the northern accent, though she did appreciate his attempt at humor.