He scribbled Maggie’s name on a blank page of his notebook. “Apparent suicide?”
“Roger that, sir. Major Bennett hung herself from a rafter. Sergeant Thorndike’s upstairs. He wanted me to check for prints.”
A half-empty bottle of cabernet sat on the counter. Nate pointed to a wineglass, stained with residue. “Be sure to send off a toxicology sample on whatever’s in the bottom of that glass.”
“Yes, sir.”
Opening the dishwasher, Nate used a latex glove he pulled from his pocket and lifted a second wineglass onto the counter. “Check the bottle and both glasses for prints. Let me know what you find.”
“Will do, sir.”
Nate nodded his thanks to Mills, returned the notebook to his pocket and grabbed a water glass from the cabinet, which he filled from the tap. Leaving the kitchen, he approached the woman in the living room.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I thought you might be thirsty.”
Maggie Bennett glanced up with tear-filled eyes and a drawn face that expressed the heartbreak of a deeply personal loss. The two sisters must have been close. His heart went out to her, understanding all too well the pain she must be feeling.
“I’m Special Agent Nate Patterson, U.S. Army Criminal Investigation Division.” With his free hand, he pulled out his CID identification, although he doubted Ms. Bennett would question his credentials. At the moment, she looked like a frightened stray caught in a trap. A beautiful stray, he decided, noting her high cheekbones, arched brows and full lips. But her strikingly good looks were overshadowed by a blanket of grief that lay like a black veil over her alabaster skin.
“I’m the lead investigator on this case, ma’am. Please accept my condolences as well as the heartfelt sympathy of the CID and the Military Police Corps here at Fort Rickman.”
She bit her lip, then mumbled a broken, “Thank…thank you.”
“I’ll be upstairs for a few minutes. When I return I’d like to talk to you about your sister.” He placed the water on the end table.
She gave a brief, pained smile of thanks at the offered glass and then looked back at him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you need to know.”
Nate climbed the stairs to the second floor, feeling the weight of Maggie’s grief resting on his shoulders. He’d give her a few minutes to gather strength before he saddled her with the endless questions that any death investigation required.
Reaching the second landing, Nate glanced into the home office on the right where Corporal Raynard Otis attempted to access the victim’s laptop computer files. The soldier looked up, a full smile spreading across his honey-brown face. “Hey, sir. How’s it going?”
“You tell me, Ray.”
“Should have something for you shortly.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Nate continued on to the open attic door. Rapid flashes of light confirmed the military photographer was already on the job. Within the hour, photos would appear on Nate’s computer, systematically capturing every detail of the attic scene.
On the opposite side of the hallway, Jamison questioned a military policewoman and jotted down pertinent information she shared, information the CID team would review over and over again until all the facts were in and a determination could be made about the actual cause of death. Foul play needed to be ruled out. Hopefully, the case would be open and shut.
Climbing the stairs to the attic, Nate eyed the rafter and the thick hemp rope wrapped around the sturdy crossbeam. Without forethought, he touched his breast pocket where he had tucked the notebook, containing Maggie’s name, as if to shield her from the grim reality of her sister’s death. Lowering his gaze, he took in the victim’s black hair and swollen face.
God rest her soul. The prayer surfaced from his past. His mother’s influence, no doubt. She had raised him to be a believer, although his faith had never been strong, and for the past eight months, he had tuned God out of his life completely.
Once again, his hand sought the notebook as his eyes refocused on the body.
Death by strangulation was never pretty, yet despite the victim’s contorted features, he recognized the same classic beauty that the very much alive sister sitting downstairs possessed. The deceased, with her low-cut silk blouse and snug-fitting leggings, appeared to be the more flamboyant sibling in contrast to Maggie’s modest jeans and sweater, but appearances could lie, and more than anything else, Nate needed the truth.
A chair lay at Major Bennett’s feet. Classic suicide scenario. In all probability, the victim had stood on the chair to secure the rope around the crossbeam and the noose around her neck. Kicking over the chair would leave her hanging and preclude the major from saving herself, should she have second thoughts about taking her own life.
Staff Sergeant Larry Thorndike stepped forward. The military policeman was mid-fifties with a receding hairline and an extra twenty pounds of weight around his middle.
“The victim worked in Headquarters Company of the 2nd Transportation Battalion,” Staff Sergeant Thorndike offered as Nate glanced his way. “The major redeployed home from Afghanistan fourteen days ago as part of the advance party.”
“Same unit that had two casualties in Afghanistan this week?” Nate asked.
“That’s right, sir. Captain York—the company commander—and his driver hit an improvised explosive device. Now this. It’s hard on the unit. Hard on everyone.”
Nate knew all too well the tragic consequences an IED could cause. Was that what had led to the major’s suicide? Had she felt in any way responsible for the captain’s death? “How long before the medical examiner gets here?”
“The ME should be here any minute.”
“Did you talk to the sister?”
The sergeant nodded. “But only briefly. She’s pretty shook up.”
An understatement from what Nate had seen.
“Ms. Bennett had enough sense to call for help,” Sergeant Thorndike continued. “When I arrived she was white as a sheet and hyperventilating. Said she lives in Independence, Alabama. Received a phone call at approximately 2330 hours from the deceased. The victim sounded anxious, according to the sister. Major Bennett had fought with her estranged husband, Graham Hughes, shortly before the phone call.”
“The major used her maiden name?”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Has the husband been notified?”
“Negative. We’re trying to track him down. Evidently he moved out a few days after Major Bennett arrived stateside.”
“Alert the post chaplain to a possible notification of next of kin. I’ll want to talk to the husband. Let me know when you find out where he’s staying.”
“Will do, sir.” The sergeant unclipped his cell phone from his belt and stepped to the corner of the attic to call the chaplain.
Nate neared the body. He examined the knots that formed the noose and then the victim’s neck and hands, noting her intact skin. No signs of struggle. Blood had pooled in her extremities, consistent with death by hanging and the beginnings of rigor mortis. It all looked like a textbook suicide, and yet… Something about it bothered him, and it took a minute to put his finger on it.
The sergeant closed his cell. “Chaplain Grant will be here shortly, sir.”
Nate pointed to the victim’s bare feet. “Where are her shoes?”
“Main floor, sir. Under a table by the door.”
“It’s a cold night. Why would Major Bennett walk around her house without shoes?”
The sergeant shrugged. “You got me there, sir.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Nate turned as Major Brett Hansen, the pathologist and medical examiner on post stepped into the attic. “Good to see you, Nate.”
“Sir.”
The major nodded to the sergeant and photographer. “What do we have here, gentlemen?”
Nate filled him in on the somewhat limited information accumulated so far. Wasting no time, the doc slipped on latex gloves and began his visual exam of the v
ictim’s body. Once complete, Sergeant Thorndike would lower her to the floor so additional forensic evidence could be gathered.
Knowing the procedure would take time, Nate descended the stairs to the first floor where the bereaved sister sat, legs crossed and head resting in her hands.
Peering into the kitchen, he saw Mills bent over the wine bottle. “Find anything yet?”
The MP looked up. “The glass you pulled from the dishwasher had been wiped clean, sir. We might get lucky on the bottle.”
“Good man.”
Entering the living room, Nate glanced, once again, at the grief-stricken woman. She appeared fragile as a butterfly and, no doubt, was devastated by what she’d discovered tonight. As much as he hated to disturb her, Nate needed information.
Moving closer, he touched her shoulder. The knit of her sweater was soft to his fingertips. “Ms. Bennett? Maggie?”
She looked up, startled. The pain in her eyes cut through him like a well-aimed laser beam.
“If I could have a few minutes of your time, ma’am.”
Fatigue lined her oval face, but her ashen coloring concerned him more. She had found her sister’s body and was surrounded by law enforcement personnel trying to make sense of a tragic death. No one had time to offer her more than a perfunctory word of compassion or support.
He glanced at the empty glass on the end table. “Would you like more water?”
She shook her head and rubbed her hands over her arms. “Thank you, no.”
“If you’re cold, I could raise the thermostat?”
“I… I’m just tired.”
“Of course.” He pulled up a chair. “Could you tell me what happened tonight?”
When she didn’t answer, he scooted closer. “I know it’s difficult.”
She nodded. “Dani called me. She was upset…almost hysterical. She had told her husband she wanted a divorce.”
Nate removed the notebook and pen from his pocket. He needed to put aside the fact that this woman ignited a spark of interest deep within him and focus instead on the questions he had to ask and she, hopefully, would be able to answer.
“Graham…” Maggie hesitated. “My sister’s husband wanted them to reconcile.”
“Go on.” Painfully aware of the heat that continued to warm his gut, Nate swallowed hard and concentrated on the information Maggie began to recount.
“They…they had argued. Graham was upset. But then so was my sister. Dani told him to leave. Obviously, he…he came back later and—”
When she failed to complete the statement, Nate asked, “When did your sister and Mr. Hughes marry?”
“Dani ran into him shortly after she transferred here to Rickman. That was two years ago. They dated a few months. She sent me a wedding announcement after they were married.”
“You attended the ceremony?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
Could Maggie’s dislike of her brother-in-law stem from being excluded from their wedding? Nate drew a question mark on his tablet before asking, “Did you know Graham?”
“Yes.”
“Had infidelity been an issue?”
She wiped her hand over her cheek and sniffed. “Not that Dani mentioned. But when we met for lunch last week, she told me that their marriage was over.”
Nate nodded as he continued writing. “When you entered the house, did anything indicate Graham had been here?”
“A bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. Dani never drank red wine.”
“What about her husband?”
“I… I don’t know. When I was upstairs, I heard footsteps on the first floor.” Maggie bit her lip and shook her head ever so slightly, her eyes widening with realization. “Graham must have been in the house the whole time I was searching for my sister.”
“Did you see Graham Hughes?”
“No, but it had to be him.”
Had to was supposition. Maggie seemed eager to place blame on her brother-in-law’s shoulders. Too eager? No matter how unlikely, if Major Bennett’s death were ruled a homicide, the beautiful woman sitting next to Nate could end up being a person of interest, as well.
“Was the front door locked when you arrived?”
Maggie nodded. “I knocked. Dani had mentioned being tired. I thought she might be sleeping. When she didn’t answer the door, I used the key she had given me when we met for lunch.”
“Did your sister say why she wanted you to have a key to her house when you lived so far apart?”
“No, and I didn’t ask for an explanation. Dani and I had been estranged for a few years. I was relieved that we were trying to patch up our differences.”
“What type of differences?”
She lowered her gaze and uncrossed her legs. Nate watched her body language. Her refusal to make eye contact was telling.
Finally she shrugged and tried to smile. “Two women going their separate ways. Dani went into the military. I pursued a career in family counseling.”
Nate was sure there had been more to the differences than Maggie was willing to admit. “Did Major Bennett invite you to visit this weekend?”
With a quick shake of her head, she said, “Dani was independent. She had a hard time accepting help.”
“Yet—” Nate glanced at the small suitcase in the foyer “—you packed a bag and drove here to be with her.”
“I told Dani she shouldn’t be alone, that I was worried Graham might come back.”
“And Major Bennett shared your concern about her husband?”
“She was more upset about something that had happened in Afghanistan. But she didn’t go into the problem. Only that it was serious.”
Nate raised his brow. “Serious enough to cause her to take her own life?”
Maggie bristled. “My sister didn’t take her life.”
Nate wouldn’t state the obvious, which was that, at this early stage in the investigation, nothing indicated foul play.
“How long ago did you and your sister reconnect?”
“Dani called last week and asked if we could meet for lunch, which we did, in Alabama.”
“Not here on post?”
“That’s right. We met just over the state line in a little town called Hope. There’s a ladies’ tearoom on the square.”
Nate would have someone check out the tearoom. Not that he thought Maggie was lying, but he wanted to ensure the information was accurate before he passed it up the chain of command.
“How did your sister seem? Happy? Sad?”
“She was concerned about her marriage, but she wasn’t depressed, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What did you talk about?”
Maggie shrugged. “Her deployment. Being back in the States.”
“Her marriage?”
“Yes, of course. She said marrying Graham had been a mistake.”
“Did she give a reason?”
Maggie shook her head.
“What about growing up? Did you reminisce about the good times?”
“Sure. We were always close as kids.”
“But that changed?” he asked.
“We…we grew apart, as I mentioned.”
“Looking back to your childhood, what thoughts come to mind?”
A hint of a smile tugged at Maggie’s lips. “Running barefoot in the backyard.”
“Sounds as if you and your sister didn’t like shoes.”
“Only when we were little. Dani had a closet full when we were teens.”
“But she went barefoot in the house?”
Maggie wrinkled her brow. “Not that I recall.”
Nate glanced down at his notes. “Let’s go back to the beginning. What happened after you entered the house?”
She explained how she had searched the rooms and, finding nothing, had made her way to the attic. “The upstairs was pitch-black. I couldn’t see anything and waved my hand in the air to find the pull cord for the overhead lightbulb.”
“If you hadn’t been here before
, how did you know about the pull cord?”
Angling her head, she paused, as if weighing her words. “My dad was military,” she said at last. “We lived in similar quarters sixteen years ago.”
“At Fort Rickman?”
“That’s right. In this same housing area.”
“A three-year assignment for your dad?”
“Yes, but—”
Maggie clasped her hands then worried her fingers. “My father…” Deep breath. “His tour of duty was cut short.” She looked down as if gathering courage to go on. “Regrettably, my father committed suicide.”
Not what he had expected to hear. Nate fought to keep his expression neutral as she glanced up at him with troubled eyes.
“He hanged himself in the attic of our house.” She leaned closer to Nate. “The similarity in the two deaths proves Dani would never have taken her own life.”
“Because—?”
Her eyes widened as if the conclusion she had drawn was obvious. “Because Dani did everything to overcome the stigma of his death. That’s why she went into the military. She idolized him. Dani tried to be the son he always wanted. Problem was she tried to prove herself to him, even after his death.” She leaned closer. “Don’t you see, for Dani, suicide wouldn’t have been an option?”
Unless Major Bennett wanted to prove how much she loved her father by following him into death. Nate kept that thought to himself.
“You brought up depression earlier. Is there a history of depression or anxiety disorders in your family?”
“None that I know of.”
“Tell me about when you were in the attic. You said the light was off?”
“That’s correct. The moon shone through the window and—” She struggled to find her words.
His voice softened. “That’s when you saw your sister?”
She nodded. Tears pooled in her blue-green eyes and slowly trickled down her cheeks. Nate tried to remain detached despite his desire to wipe away her pain. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it into her hand, his fingers touching hers for longer than necessary, as if attempting to pass on support.
Maggie seemed oblivious to the way his hand burned where it touched hers. What was happening to his ability to remain neutral? He had been around other attractive women…had dated a few along the way…but no one had ever affected him like the woman sitting close to him.
The Officer's Secret Page 2
