The Officer's Secret
Page 10
The entire post was feeling the pain of the deaths. Counting the death of the soldier killed in the hunting accident that Kelly was investigating, the 2nd Transportation Battalion had lost four of its own in less than two weeks. That high of a casualty rate would place a pall on anyone, even a man of the cloth.
After the service, Nate drove with Maggie to the airfield on post. They passed a number of hangars and three helicopters parked on the nearby tarmac before he pulled into a parking spot and held the passenger door open as she stepped from the car. Taking her arm, he ushered her through the crowd of somber people to where a row of chairs reserved for the dignitaries had been placed near a podium, backdropped with the American flag. Across from the VIP area, the 2nd Transportation Battalion’s rear detachment and various personnel who had been in the advance party stood in formation.
The sun peeked through the clouds, sending rays of light into the doleful day. Not even the sporadic brightness could lighten the tension in the crowd of onlookers who had gathered to pay their respects to the fallen company commander.
Nate checked his watch. “The plane is scheduled to land in ten minutes. The dignitaries should be taking their seats soon.”
As if on cue, the side door to the nearest hangar opened and the post commanding general, chief of staff and command sergeant major stepped into the muted sunlight. Chaplain Grant followed, escorting a woman, probably mid-thirties, with two young children in tow. She was dressed in a navy skirt, white blouse and red jacket. The children wore the same colors in patriotic matching plaids. The youngest child, an adorable tow-headed boy with big eyes, carried a small American flag that he waved as he walked across the tarmac beside his mother.
Nate tightened his jaw, steeling himself to the poignant reminder of the high cost of war. Maggie moaned under her breath, and he knew she had been affected by the widow and children, also.
“A yellow ribbon,” Maggie whispered. The corsage and bow pinned to the woman’s lapel were visible as she turned and hurried her children along.
Nate nodded, remembering all too well when he and his brother had left for Afghanistan. Their mother had tied a yellow ribbon around the oak tree in their front yard—the same tree the brothers had climbed as boys. Although faded, the ribbon was still in place the last time Nate had been home.
As if in unison, the crowd emitted a sigh of anticipation when a plane appeared in the distant sky. Nate glanced at Maggie to ensure she was okay, needing something to look at instead of the small family that watched the aircraft’s approach for landing.
Maggie leaned into Nate. Her tired eyes held tears she blinked to keep at bay. Without forethought, he reached for her hand and their fingers entwined.
A state representative, the mayor of Freemont and the city manager took their places beside the fatherless family, followed by the chief of police, fire chief and a handful of city council members.
From the other side of the tarmac, the military band began to play a patriotic march that sounded almost too spirited for the soulful occasion. After the plane landed and taxied to a stop, the cargo hatch opened, and the honor guard marched up the ramp and into the belly of the craft.
A hush fell over the crowd, leaving only the cadenced footfalls of the soldiers to echo in the stillness of the day. With stoic faces, they carried the flag-draped casket onto the soil of the country the captain had loved so much. Passing in front of the wife and children, who stood with the other dignitaries, the honor guard placed the casket on the metal bier that had been prepared. In slow motion, they saluted the casket, paying tribute to their comrade in arms. Nate and the others in uniform followed suit.
The commanding general moved to the podium and addressed the crowd, highlighting Captain York’s heroism and valor and the great loss his death was to his family, his unit and his country.
The chaplain replaced the general at the microphone for prayer. Maggie bowed her head and folded her hands. Nate lowered his gaze as the chaplain’s words floated around them.
“Dear Father in Heaven, provide support for this strong woman and her two children in the days ahead. Comfort them as they mourn and allow them to know that her husband and their father was, indeed, one of America’s finest heroes—a soldier, a leader, a commander, who put You, Lord, and this country first. Let peace reign not only in our hearts today but throughout the world because of the dedication to duty of our brave military and those special patriots who have made the ultimate sacrifice. Draw them into Your heavenly home and surround them with Your love. Amen.”
At the conclusion of his prayer, the chaplain walked to the widow’s side and encircled her with a supportive embrace, no doubt intoning his own private words of consolation before the state representative added his remarks about the fine man who had lost his life, protecting freedom.
Once the scheduled speakers had taken turns at the podium, the chaplain again returned to the microphone. “Mrs. York has asked to address you this morning.” He turned and motioned her forward.
In a clear, strong voice, the attractive widow leaned into the microphone. “Mark would have been pleased to see so many people here. He also would have been humbled. As Chaplain Grant mentioned, my husband was a man who knew the Lord and loved Him above all things. He also loved his country and the men and women with whom he served. You honor him today, and in doing so, you honor our country, as well. Thank you, and God bless you all.”
Tears rolled down Maggie’s cheeks as the honor guard lifted the casket into the hearse. Nate and the other military in uniform saluted just before the chaplain escorted the family to the waiting limousine.
Nate pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Maggie. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice husky with emotion. She dabbed at the moisture on her cheeks and allowed him to take her arm as they hastened back to his car.
The motorcade stretched for blocks. A police escort led the way with their lights flashing. Behind the family and dignities, a stream of military personnel and townspeople caravanned through the front gate of post and onto the main thoroughfare that headed toward the funeral home. All along the road, people stood with their hands over their hearts, watching in silence, their faces grief-stricken, as the sky darkened overhead.
“I had no idea of the outpouring of support the family would receive.” Maggie stared at the throng of people, who stood motionless even as a light drizzle of rain began to fall.
Nate followed her gaze. “The good folks in this area of the country understand the sacrifice some are called to make.”
“But surely Captain York isn’t the first person from Fort Rickman to have lost his life?”
“Unfortunately there have been others, but the townspeople pay honor to every fallen soldier whose body is returned home. It’s always poignant, and their support is heartfelt. The chaplain says the families find great comfort in the expression of sympathy.”
“Did you…did you experience the same thing when your brother died?”
A lump jammed Nate’s throat and prevented him from speaking, but his mind was sharp as he recalled how the people in his hometown had given Michael a hero’s welcome just as Freemont had done for Captain York. They had also reached out to Nate and talked about his valor in combat. He hadn’t wanted the kind words or the focus on himself. As he had told Maggie last night, Michael was the hero, not him.
Maggie touched his arm. “Are you okay, Nate?”
He nodded. That’s all he could do. No matter how much he wanted to tell her about what had happened in Afghanistan, he couldn’t. She was right. He carried the guilt of his brother’s death because he had made a terrible mistake.
Nate could never forgive himself. Even harder to realize was that God couldn’t forgive him, and if God couldn’t forgive him, no one else could, either.
Not his parents.
Not Michael’s girlfriend, Angela.
Not even Maggie, despite what she had said last night about the Lord not wanting to cause him pain.
r /> Maggie sensed Nate’s internal struggle. He had cracked open the door to his past last night. She needed to do the same. But nothing came easily these days, especially since her sister’s death. Maggie had lived with the past sealed in the locked vault of her heart. If she could, she would have thrown away the key.
Seeing the confusion that shadowed Nate’s eyes forced Maggie to break open the lock on her past. “For so long, I harbored resentment for the military because of everything that had happened after my father’s death. In addition, my mother had been diagnosed with cancer a year earlier, and my family was still trying to adjust.”
“That’s got to be hard on a kid.”
The empathy she heard in Nate’s voice comforted Maggie and gave her the courage to continue. “My mother had participated in an experimental and expensive new treatment at a special cancer center in Texas for three months. She returned home, seemingly cured. At least that’s what my father had told us.”
As painful as the memories were, Maggie needed to tell Nate what she had faced. “After Dad died, we had to leave our home on post and move to Alabama. In what seemed like a swirl of grief and turmoil, we packed up our belongings and headed to a rural town, where we didn’t know anyone. Dani was outgoing and made new friends easily. She joined the ROTC program at the high school and got involved. I remember my mother telling her that she’d made good choices.”
Nate turned to gaze at her. “What about you, Maggie?”
“I was shy. Making friends was difficult. Looking back, I realize I should have gone to counseling, but that would have placed more of a stigma on our family. Or at least that’s what my mother thought at the time.”
“So you decided to become a therapist to help others just as you had needed help yourself?”
“And to dispel some of the misperceptions people have. Folks are more open now, but at that time in rural Alabama, I would have been seen as even more of an anomaly had I sought help.”
“Could you talk to your mom about what you were feeling?”
Maggie shook her head. “Regrettably, we did everything as a family to mask our pain and tiptoed around the truth. Besides, my mother’s cancer returned, no doubt brought on by the stress of losing her husband, so I never told her how isolated I truly felt.”
Nate reached out and took Maggie’s hand. She appreciated the warmth of his touch and the encouragement he offered in that small action.
When she spoke, her voice was a whisper. “I’ve always wanted to right all the wrongs that happened.”
“Just like your sister.”
Maggie nodded. “Maybe we weren’t that different after all.”
“My brother was eight years younger, but we were close.” Biting his upper lip, Nate shook his head ever so slightly. “I thought about leaving town before his funeral and heading back to my unit. The wound of his death was still too raw, and I didn’t think I could survive the comments made by so many.”
“I know the feeling. Part of me wants to run away.”
He turned to stare into her eyes. “But you can’t, Maggie.”
“That doesn’t stop me from wishing I could.”
“I guess not.” He let out a ragged breath and refocused his gaze on the road. “Michael’s girlfriend, Angela, was standing outside the church when my parents and I pulled into the parking lot the day of my brother’s funeral. The soft swell to her belly was evident. I did the math from the two weeks when my brother had come home for R&R.”
“Oh, Nate.”
“Close as I could figure, Angela was five months along. My parents hadn’t mentioned her pregnancy, and I realized they probably didn’t know.” He shook his head. “Silly kids. They hadn’t thought about the consequences of their lovemaking. Nor had they realized their child would never get to know firsthand what a great guy Michael had been.”
“At least, your brother died with honor.” She pulled in a deep breath and glanced once again at the crowds lining the street. “Dani’s funeral will be like my father’s with the unspoken stigma of suicide hovering over the service.”
“Chaplain Grant will ensure she’s given a proper burial, Maggie.”
“Hopefully, but it will be what he doesn’t say that people will remember.” She glanced at Nate, waiting to see if he would respond.
He squeezed her hand and then released it to make the next turn. “The truth will come out, Maggie.”
“Maybe, but it seems to me everyone is blinded by what they want to see.” Maggie shoved a strand of hair behind her ear and pursed her lips. “Doesn’t it stand to reason that Dani may have been killed because of that list of names and post office boxes?”
“I notified the CID in Afghanistan. They’re trying to track down information on that end. The Postal Inspection Service has the post offices under surveillance and the FBI’s involved, but we need a break, something concrete that will change this to a murder case.”
“What about Kendra’s testimony? Isn’t that enough to establish wrongdoing?”
“She’s not a credible witness. I had the local police do a check. She’s had a series of run-ins with the law.”
“So you don’t believe her because she has a past?”
“I never said that.” He turned weary eyes toward Maggie. “I’m attempting to get to the truth, okay? But I need evidence. Something factual that I can take to my commander. Chief Wilson is convinced your sister took her own life. Nothing, including the autopsy, indicated she struggled. We’re still waiting for the toxicology screen.”
“There’s something I didn’t tell you.” Maggie hesitated. “My sister said the military police were involved in whatever had happened in Afghanistan. The night before last, when you questioned me, I… I didn’t know who could be trusted.” She shook her head. “So much had happened.”
He glanced at her, their eyes locking. “Can you trust me now?”
She nodded, confident she could share what Dani had said. “My sister said that she had uncovered some type of an illegal operation in Afghanistan. She mailed evidence, as she called it, back to the States, to her quarters.”
“Maybe one of the boxes Kendra talked about?”
“I don’t know. Dani planned to take whatever it was to the provost marshal. She said he’d know what to do.”
“The provost marshal is a good man.”
He might be a good man, but Maggie needed him to be fair and impartial about her sister’s death. Dani had tried so hard to redeem her father’s memory. Now Maggie felt the need to do the same for Dani. As the lead investigator, surely Nate could influence others in the CID. Although at this point, Maggie wasn’t sure what Nate actually believed.
Hopefully, something would happen to prove what she knew to be true. She thought of Kendra and her young daughter. Just so no one else would be hurt.
TEN
The police escort led the caravan to the funeral home. Nate parked and walked with Maggie to where the honor guard stood at attention. The funeral director opened the rear door of the hearse, and with the same uniform precision they had executed on the tarmac, the military detail removed the coffin and carried it inside.
With Captain York safely delivered to his destination, Nate and Maggie returned to his car, their clothing damp from the lightly falling mist.
Nate pulled onto the main road heading back to post. “I’ll drop you off at Kelly’s. Then I’ve got to stop by headquarters and contact the CID lab to find out if they’ve completed the toxicology screen. Plus there’s a briefing with the provost marshal at 1600 hours. Four o’clock.”
“Are you going to mention the evidence Dani mailed to her quarters?”
“I need to present all the information, Maggie.”
“But what if it gets into the wrong hands?”
“Then we’ll deal with whatever happens.” Although he wouldn’t voice his suspicions, Nate was concerned that Major Bennett’s warning about law enforcement could have been to protect her own involvement in the mail ring. He needed
to review the information the CID and MPs had accumulated thus far in case there was something he hadn’t pieced together.
“Would you mind driving by Dani’s quarters on the way to Kelly’s?” Maggie glanced at her watch. “The photograph my neighbor sent should have arrived by now.”
The tension in Maggie’s face eased somewhat when Nate parked in front of Quarters 1448. Grateful for a momentary lull in the rain, they both stepped onto the sidewalk.
She pointed to the package sitting by the front door and brushed past him to retrieve the box. “Thank goodness the picture arrived in time.”
Returning to the car with the package in hand, Maggie stopped short as a door opened across the street. The teenager with the piercings stepped onto his front porch. Seeing them, he turned and hurried back inside.
A military police sedan approached where Nate and Maggie stood. Sergeant Thorndike braked to a stop and leaned out the window. “Sir. Ma’am.”
“Everything okay, Sergeant?”
Thorndike threw a glance at the now closed door of the quarters across the street. “Just keeping an eye on the hoodlum.”
“The boy’s name is Kyle Foglio, Sergeant. No matter how he looks, he’s a family member living on post.”
Clamping down on his jaw, the sergeant’s face reddened with frustration. His brow wrinkled and crow’s feet appeared at the corners of his eyes. Nate hadn’t realized how the man had aged over the last few months. Thorndike was “short”—close to the twenty-year mark and ready to retire. He had told Nate on more than one occasion, he planned to buy a house on a lake in rural Florida and live the good life.
Nate had to wonder in the worsening economy if a military retirement would be adequate to sustain the sergeant and his family. Word was his wife had gotten into some credit card overspending trouble last year. Would the “little woman,” as Thorndike called her, be happy living in the country far from the shopping malls she seemed to love?
“Did you get the message the provost marshal wanted to see you, sir?”