The Colonel's Daughter

by Debby Giusti

  “Terrible what happened last night, Agent Steele.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The chaplain stepped to where Mrs. Logan was sitting in a folding chair. They talked about the prayer service scheduled the next day while Jamison scanned the crowd. His gaze came to rest on Michele, who continued to chat with Mrs. Rossi.

  An unwelcome yearning filled Jamison that set him back to where he had been ten months ago. He had tried to convince himself that he had moved on with his life, but after being with Michele for these last twenty-four hours, he had to face facts. He still cared for the colonel’s daughter.

  At that moment, she turned and raised her eyes to meet his. Jamison’s chest constricted. He needed to remember that everything had changed when Michele walked away from him.

  No matter what he read in her gaze, Michele Logan didn’t want anything to do with a military guy and especially a CID agent. Bottom line, she didn’t want anything to do with Jamison.

  * * *

  Michele had trouble sitting through the briefing in the auditorium, mainly because Jamison was onstage. Seeing him dressed in his crisp white shirt and dark suit brought back memories of when they had dated.

  Concern and compassion for the family members warmed his expression as he answered their questions and offered suggestions to keep everyone safe. He gave out his phone number, asking to be called if anyone had a problem or felt the least threat of danger.

  “He certainly is a fine man,” one of the wives said to a woman sitting behind Michele.

  She had to agree. Jamison was a good man with a big heart and a willingness to help others. He believed in doing what was right and worked hard to keep military personnel and family members safe from anyone out to do them harm.

  Michele had recognized his dedication and commitment when they had first met, although at that point in their relationship, she hadn’t realized the danger he faced each and every day. The shoot-out ten months ago had brought that reality front and center and sent her running scared.

  If Jamison worked in another profession, one that didn’t require him to risk his life, she never would have left Fort Rickman.

  After the few comments Jamison had made at her house today, she better understood his commitment to the military. His childhood had been difficult, and the army had provided stability and security and a feeling of being part of a team that was making a difference. It would be hard to let that go and move into the civilian world, no matter how much she wanted him to do exactly that.

  On the stage, Jamison stood beside her mother, who continued to address the gathering. “The major portion of the unit is scheduled to leave Afghanistan tomorrow,” Roberta said to those assembled. “If everything goes as planned, the planes should land at the airfield on post Friday morning. I’d ask you to please notify any of the spouses who aren’t here tonight. Some of the families have been staying with relatives in other parts of the country and will be returning to Fort Rickman soon. We’ve activated the calling trees, and the rear detachment is trying to contact everyone not in the area, but you can help by spreading the word.”

  She glanced out at the audience and smiled. “Because this is such a difficult time, Chaplain Grant will be having a special prayer service at the Main Post Chapel tomorrow, at 11:00 a.m. We’ll be asking the Lord to bring the brigade safely home and to protect us so we can all be reunited with our deployed loved ones.”

  Glancing down at her notes, she continued. “At

  1:00 p.m. tomorrow, we’ll meet at the brigade to get the barracks ready for the soldiers. We could use everyone’s help. Also, we need baked goods and candy for the

  welcome-home goody bags each soldier will have waiting for him or her in the barracks.” She smiled. “The work will keep us occupied while we await the brigade’s return.”

  Motioning toward Jamison, she added, “Don’t hesitate to call Special Agent Steele if you have any questions or concerns.”

  After a round of applause, the family members exited the auditorium. The night was hot and humid when Michele stepped outside. Her mother followed a few minutes later, surrounded by a group of women eager to discuss the brigade’s new arrival date.

  Alice Rossi had stopped to talk to some of the wives inside before she caught up with Michele. “It was good seeing you tonight.”

  “Don’t you want to say hello to Mother?”

  Alice glanced at the women gathered around Roberta. “She’s busy, and I need to get home. Thank her for all she’s done to help the wives while the brigade has been deployed. I’m sure she encouraged your dad to bring the unit back a few days early. After what happened to Mrs. Hughes, knowing the men will be home has been a big morale boost.”

  “Do you have to rush off?”

  Alice’s expressive eyes twinkled. “Paul said he’d call. It’s our wedding anniversary, and I want to be home when he phones.”

  Michele smiled at the good news, which didn’t seem to come often enough these days. “How many years?”

  “Fifteen. Seems like only yesterday I was a new army wife. I wasn’t sure where we’d go, but I wanted to be with Paul, no matter where the army sent him.”

  Michele thought of her own struggle. “Did...did you ever worry about his safety?”

  Alice laughed. “Of course, but we made a pact early on in our marriage never to leave the house without a kiss and a prayer to keep us safe until we could be reunited. Trusting God helped me put aside any undue worry.”

  Michele held her tongue. Hadn’t she prayed for her brother’s safety?

  “You’ll be at the welcome-home ceremony?” Alice asked.

  Michele nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  The wife squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you there.”

  Watching Alice scurry to her car, Michele marveled at the lightness in her step, wishing she, too, could be free of the weight that seemed to always drag her down. No matter how much she longed to live in the moment and not worry about what tomorrow might bring, Michele couldn’t change who she was and the way she reacted to fear.

  Jamison was right. A lot had happened in a short amount of time. Hopefully, once her father was safe on U.S. soil, her outlook would improve.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she peered into the auditorium where Jamison stood, still surrounded by women. Even from this distance, she could see how focused he was on those who needed more information or had questions. His broad shoulders seemed strong enough to bear the concerns and fears of all the wives.

  Michele trusted Jamison, but she couldn’t trust her heart to a man who placed himself in danger.

  One of the wives hurried from the auditorium and edged close to Michele. She held a tote bag in her left hand. “I found this on the floor where Alice Rossi was sitting. She was in a hurry to get home and must have left it behind.”

  Michele pointed to the car disappearing in the distance. “Alice just drove away.”

  The woman rummaged in the bag. “Her cell phone’s here, so we can’t call her. I’ve got to pick up my kids at the babysitter’s or I’d drop it off at her house.”

  Overhearing the conversation, Roberta excused herself from the group of ladies and reached for the bag. “You need to get your children. Michele and I can take the tote to Alice.” Relieved, the woman hugged Roberta before she raced to her car.

  Michele glanced back at Jamison still answering questions in the auditorium. Her mother followed her gaze.

  “Looks like he’ll be tied up for quite a while.” Roberta pointed to Corporal McGrunner, standing nearby on the curb. “I’ll see if Mac can escort us home.”

  “Jamison wanted to follow us, Mother.”

  “I know, dear, but you said Alice is expecting Paul to call. If so, she’ll need her cell phone.”

  “I had the feeling he was calling on their home landline.”

  “Either way, she’ll want her bag. I’ll talk to Jamison and Mac while you get the car.”

  By the time Michele pulled up to the curb, Mac had cli
mbed into the military police sedan. Roberta opened the passenger door and slipped into the seat next to her daughter.

  “I sent one of the wives back inside to tell Jamison. Mac’s in his car and ready to follow us.”

  Michele raised her brow. “Are you sure what we’re doing is okay with Jamison?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Roberta gave Michele directions to Alice’s house, but she continued to worry. Pulling out her cell, she hit Speed Dial. “I’m phoning Jamison.”

  The call went to voice mail. Michele left a message, explaining why she and her mother hadn’t waited for him.

  As they left the parking lot, Michele glanced in her rearview mirror at the stream of cars behind them. “Mac appears to be caught in a traffic jam.”

  Roberta glanced over her shoulder at the bottleneck. “We should go ahead. I want to get home as soon as possible. I’m sure Mac will be along shortly.”

  “I’d feel better if we wait.”

  “You know how hard it is for the guys to place a call from Afghanistan. I don’t want Alice to come back to the auditorium for her tote and miss the call.” Roberta nudged her daughter. “Go on. Drive. I’ve got Jamison’s cell number programmed on my phone. I’ll call him if we run into a problem.”

  Roberta’s voice sounded tired. The day had been long for both of them. There was no reason for Michele to make more of the situation than was needed. The detour to Alice’s house wouldn’t take long, and they would probably arrive at her parents’ quarters before Jamison realized they had left the area.

  Roberta pointed to the upcoming intersection. “Turn left at the light. Alice lives in the Harding Housing area at the southern edge of post.”

  Once the housing area came into view, Michele noticed headlights in her rearview mirror and smiled. “Looks like Mac caught up with us.”

  Roberta glanced back. “That’s good, dear.”

  Michele felt a sense of relief. Although she had complied with her mother’s wishes, she hadn’t been able to shake the sense they were making a mistake.

  Jamison had been so insistent about their need for protection. Usually, he was overly cautious. This time she agreed with him, yet the briefing had gone well, and none of the wives had mentioned any concerns at their own homes. Many of the women sitting around her had talked about Yolanda’s death being a random killing, which had probably been the case.

  Michele was tired and her leg ached. Just like her mother, she wanted to get home. Turning into the housing area, she glanced again at the vehicle following behind them. Her optimism plummeted when the car continued straight ahead on the main road.

  Roberta pointed to the next intersection. “Turn right. Alice lives at the end of that road.”

  Michele reached for her cell. “I’m calling Jamison again. Something happened to Mac. Did you explain we were making a stop before heading home?”

  Roberta tilted her head and hesitated. “He said he’d follow us.”

  Michele hit Speed Dial and sighed when she was, once again, connected to voice mail.

  “Mother and I are making a quick stop in the Harding Housing area,” she said into the phone. “Mac got tied up leaving the auditorium parking lot. We’ll be delayed arriving home. Don’t worry, we’re fine.” Breathing a bit more easily, she returned her cell to her pocket.

  “Jamison is probably still talking to the ladies,” Roberta said. “We’ll be pulling into our driveway before he ever gets your message.”

  “Maybe so, but I don’t want him to worry.”

  Roberta raised her brow. “I didn’t know you were so concerned about Jamison.”

  “He’s in charge of our security, Mother. I’ve caused him enough problems already.”

  “I don’t think you’re a problem, dear.”

  Before Michele could question the meaning behind her mother’s last comment, Alice’s house appeared at the end of the street. Pulling the sedan over to the curb, Michele glanced at the small quarters. The lights were on inside, although the blinds were drawn and the front stoop was dark.

  Michele grabbed the tote and stepped onto the pavement. “Stay in the car, Mother. I’ll be right back.”

  Roberta’s cell phone rang. “Maybe that’s Jamison.”

  She read the name on the screen. “It’s Erica Grayson.” She waved to Michele. “Go on, dear, while I find out if Yolanda’s sister arrived.”

  Michele slammed the car door and hurried along the sidewalk to the house. As she neared the porch, she heard a telephone ring inside the quarters. Paul was calling on their landline.

  Knocking lightly, Michele eased the front door open. “Alice? You forgot your tote bag at the auditorium. I’ll leave it in the dining room.”

  Stepping inside, Michele placed the bag on the table. The phone rang again.

  “Alice?”

  Why didn’t she answer the expected call?

  A hallway led into the darkened kitchen. The phone rang a third time.

  Michele’s heart pounded a warning.

  A shuffling noise sounded behind her.

  She turned.

  A man, wearing a black face mask, lunged from the shadows. He held a stun gun in his hand, aimed at her arm.

  Ice-cold panic froze her for half a heartbeat before he released the charge.

  Fire exploded through her body.

  Her muscles convulsed and her limbs writhed in spastic movements she couldn’t control.

  His maniacal laughter filled the house and sent even more involuntary tremors to twist her spine.

  She fell to the floor, tried to scream and heard only the deep guttural groan that came from her drooling mouth.

  He grabbed her shoulder and flipped her over. The black ski mask leaned into her line of vision.

  Michele tried to backpedal along the floor, but her legs wouldn’t respond.

  A knife. Razor sharp.

  She gasped.

  Unable to move, Michele could only think of Jamison, who tried so hard to protect her.

  This time, he would be too late.

  SEVEN

  After the last woman thanked him for his help, Jamison hurried from the auditorium and searched the near-empty parking lot, frowning when he was unable to find Michele or her mother.

  Anxiety threaded through his veins and headed straight for his heart. Surely he was overreacting. Corporal McGrunner had probably escorted the women home.

  Jamison pulled out his cell phone. Three voice mails. The first was from Michele. “We have to stop by Alice Rossi’s house on the way home. Mac’s following us, so you needn’t worry.”

  Jamison couldn’t calm the alarm clanging through his head. He tapped into the second message. Corporal McGrunner’s voice. All Jamison could hear was the worry in the soldier’s usually calm baritone.

  “Sir, I was following Mrs. Logan and her daughter back to their quarters. A traffic jam formed as I was getting out of the parking area and onto the main road. I...ah... Well, sir, they drove on. As soon as I could get free, I headed along the route we used earlier, but I can’t locate them. I’m at their quarters now, and Stiles is the only one here. What should I do, sir? Where should I look?”

  Jamison’s gut tightened. Shoving aside his need to punch a hole in the brick wall of the auditorium, he raced to his car and hit the prompt for the third call.

  Michele’s voice. Maybe everything was all right after all. When he listened to the voice mail he felt anything but relieved.

  “Mac got tied up leaving the auditorium parking lot. We’ll be delayed arriving home. Don’t worry, we’re fine.”

  Don’t worry! As if he could do anything but worry. The two women had gone off alone. Exactly what Jamison had told them not to do. Slipping behind the wheel, he dialed Michele. Before the call went through, his phone buzzed.

  Mrs. Logan’s name appeared on the screen. Mother and daughter were probably back at their quarters, but Jamison couldn’t hide his frustration as he raised the phone to his ear. “Where are you, ma’am?
Corporal McGrunner lost you. Tell me you’re all right.”

  “Oh, Jamison...something’s happened...Michele...”

  A sickening feeling swept over him, making his head swim and his ears ring. He backed out of the parking space and stomped on the accelerator, leaving a black line on the roadway.

  “Where are you, ma’am?”

  “Alice Rossi’s place in the Harding Housing area. Quarters Thirty-seven.”

  “Is Michele with you?”

  “That’s the problem. She went inside to return Alice’s tote bag. She...” Mrs. Logan gasped. “She never came out. I pounded on the door and tried to get in, but—”

  “Michele’s inside?”

  “I saw a man through the sidelight window. He ran from the room when he heard me knock but he’s still in the house.” Roberta’s voice broke.

  “Get back in your car. Lock the doors and drive to the military police headquarters. I’ll have McGrunner meet you there.”

  Once again, Jamison had failed to keep Michele safe.

  Disconnecting from the colonel’s wife before she could respond, he hit Speed Dial for Dawson and relayed the address Mrs. Logan had given him. “We need every military police officer in that area. The perpetrator is holed up inside with Michele. Use caution approaching the house. Have Otis contact McGrunner. Mrs. Logan’s on her way to the military police headquarters. Have Mac meet her there.”

  “Roger that.”

  Jamison shoved his cell phone into his pocket and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. He increased his speed and drove like a madman toward the housing area.

  Please, Lord, keep her safe. Just because I couldn’t protect her doesn’t mean You won’t.

  If anything happened to Michele, Jamison would never stop blaming himself. For the first time, he began to understand Michele’s hesitancy to embrace the Lord. In her mind, God hadn’t saved her brother, so she refused to turn to Him in her need. The difference was that Jamison knew if he didn’t put his trust in the Lord, everything he believed in would be a lie.

  The drive across post took too long. Jamison’s heart threatened to explode as he screeched to the curb, jumped from his car and raced toward the Logans’ vehicle still parked on the street. Mrs. Logan sat huddled in the passenger seat.