“Something concerned you about the way the explosive had been rigged?” Nate checked the file he had opened on his computer and paused for a long moment as his words traveled halfway around the world. “Your exact words were ‘the device looked too sophisticated.’”
“That’s right. Not that the local terrorists don’t copycat everything we do, but this was a perfect replica and screamed Made in the USA.” Damian let out a deep sigh. “Hard enough when the enemy strikes. Having someone on our side involved decimates morale, yet we both know there are evil men who would do anything for their own gain.”
“Even kill.”
“Roger that. I’ll contact you if anything turns up.”
Nate disconnected, thinking of what Damian had said about copycats and perfect replicas. Had Dani’s death been an exact copy of her father’s suicide? Scrolling through the archived CID files, Nate pulled up the report on Lieutenant Colonel Bennett’s death sixteen years ago. As Jamison had mentioned, the information was sketchy, either because the person who had updated the database failed to include all the details or because the actual hardcopy report had been less than complete.
Another search revealed a Colonel Glen Rogers, who had been the provost marshal at that time, commanding the military police on post. Hopefully he would remember the death investigation his MPs had conducted. Knowing military personnel often retire at their last duty station and remain in the local area, Nate flipped through the pages of the Freemont phone directory and quickly found a listing for Glen Rogers, Colonel Retired. He plugged the number into his cell but was routed to voice mail. Nate left a brief message and asked the colonel to contact him at his first convenience.
Needing to clear the cobwebs that clogged his brain and wanting to ensure Maggie was safe, Nate pulled a fleece jacket from his closet and left his apartment. The bright lighting in the open walkway outside provided a good deterrent to keep perpetrators from approaching the front of the complex. The rear, on the other hand, sat cloaked in darkness and backed onto a wooded area, where Nate now headed.
Earlier while Maggie had catnapped, he’d tested the plywood Thorndike and Mills had used to shore up Kelly’s broken window. The makeshift fix secured the rear entrance, but Nate needed to confirm no one was hanging around in the shadows. Rounding the complex, he moved quietly into a stand of trees where he had a clear view of the entire area.
His eyes quickly acclimated to the dark, and he scanned the shrubbery and underbrush but saw nothing suspicious. The crickets and cicadas chirped their night songs accompanied by an occasional tree frog while a light mist added more moisture to the damp and chilly night.
Lights blazed inside Kelly’s BOQ, and Nate imagined Maggie curled up on the couch, arms wrapped protectively around her waist. Although Nate wanted to provide the protection she needed, he had to give her the freedom she demanded.
When the first morning light filtered over the horizon, Nate left the woods and headed back to his BOQ for a quick shower and a pot of high-test coffee. He downed three cups while rehashing his conversation with Damian Jones. Copycat kept circulating through his mind.
On his way to the kitchen to pour a fourth cup, his cell rang. “Patterson.”
“Corporal Otis, sir. That toxicology report you wanted arrived.” Nate listened to the results then disconnected and pushed speed dial for Kelly’s cell. Her voice sounded groggy when it came over the line.
“I need to bounce some ideas around, concerning Major Bennett’s death. Do you mind?”
She groaned. “At this time of night?”
“The sun’s up, Kel. It’s morning.”
“Not in North Georgia. Besides, you’re entirely too energetic.”
“Sorry, but it’s important. I keep thinking about the attic light being off when Maggie found her sister. Seems to me if Major Bennett killed herself, she wouldn’t turn off the light. Plus, her shoes were downstairs under a table.”
“Hmm?” Kelly had taken the bait and now seemed interested in reviewing the case. “Maybe she had a few obsessive-compulsive tendencies and liked everything nice and neat.”
“Yes, but it’s winter. Those old quarters are drafty, yet she climbed the stairs to the attic without shoes.”
“And you’re saying what?”
Nate wasn’t sure what he was trying to establish, but voicing the problem out loud sometimes helped the pieces fall into place. “Let’s consider what would happen if someone had killed her and then tried to make it look like suicide. There were no visible signs of a struggle. What’s that tell you?”
“That she had been incapacitated in some way. Probably drugged.”
“Maybe the perpetrator slipped something into her wineglass, which he wiped clean and placed on a rack in the dishwasher.”
Kelly played along. “Her shoes could have fallen off as he carried her up the stairs.”
“Exactly. Later he would have wiped them, as well, and then placed them under a table.”
“If prints had been removed, the person understood how cops gather evidence.”
“And who would best know those procedures, Kelly?”
“Another cop?”
“Bingo.”
“Ah, Nate.” Kelly sighed. “You could be getting into hot water with this one.”
“But the pieces fit, if she were murdered. The shoes, the two wineglasses. Plus, Maggie said the attic was dark when she found her sister. No reason for the major to turn off the light before she put the noose around her neck. But someone leaving the attic might pull the light switch, knowing a dark house with a lone light shining through the attic dormer window would draw suspicion.”
“He—or she—never expected Maggie to show up that night,” Kelly added.
“That’s right. Had Major Bennett been found in the daytime, the light may not have been noticed.”
“What about the tox screen?” Kelly asked.
“I just got the report. Her specimen was positive for benzodiazepines. Specifically alprazolam. You might know it by the trade name Xanax. Interestingly, a civilian doctor prescribed Xanax for Major Bennett the week prior to her death.”
“She could have popped a few pills to overcome any last-minute anxiety if she were planning to take her own life.”
Kelly’s comment held water, yet the major seemed like a woman who stood by her decisions. If she had decided to commit suicide, she wouldn’t turn to chemical aids to get her through it.
“She kept her pills in a kitchen cabinet,” Nate added. “The killer could have used her own prescription meds to drug her.”
“Did you get the results for the residue left in the wineglass on the counter?” Kelly asked.
“Negative for Xanax, and the glass in the dishwasher had been wiped clean.”
“Had the perpetrator planned to kill her from the get-go?”
“I’m not sure, Kel. But suppose someone in law enforcement stopped by her house to talk to her. The major told her sister that she had uncovered something unsettling in Afghanistan and suspected law enforcement could be involved.”
“You’re saying Major Bennett trusted the killer and invited him into her house to discuss the situation.”
“That’s it exactly. Only, he’s in on the deal and realizes she needs to be silenced. She may have left the pills on the counter. If she stepped out of the kitchen for a minute or two, he would have had enough time to slip the drugs into her glass.”
“Wouldn’t she recognize the medicinal taste?”
“Maggie told me that her sister didn’t like red wine—she might not have been familiar enough with the taste to suspect anything.”
“Yet she drank it that night?”
Nate sighed. “Work with me, Kelly. Maybe the cop convinced her wine would help her relax.”
“Only, the combination of drugs and alcohol knocked her out. He carried her upstairs and made her death look like it was self-inflicted.”
“And identical to the way her father died sixteen years earlier.�
�
“Time out, Nate. How does the guy know about the dad’s death?”
“Good question.” And one Nate couldn’t answer. Unless…? The killer had to have known the family and understood the importance of Major Bennett following in her father’s footsteps. Graham had an alibi, but things weren’t always as they seemed.
Nate’s neck tingled. Maybe Maggie had been right about Graham all along.
FOURTEEN
The next morning, Maggie woke with a dull ache in her temples and a stiff spine. She’d fallen asleep on the couch in Kelly’s living area, close enough to the plywood-covered back door to hear any shuffling sounds outside should the assailant try to gain entry again. Cell phone in hand, she’d been ready to contact Nate at the first indication of anything suspicious. The last time she had checked the time, the clock in the kitchen had read 4:00 a.m.
Maggie made a pot of coffee, but the hot brew stuck in her throat, and she ended up pouring it down the drain. Once dressed, she waited for Nate who looked equally out of sorts when she opened the door to his knock. At other times, his presence had buoyed her flagging spirits, but today the memory of the way they had parted last night added to the melancholy day.
They rode in relative silence to the Main Post Chapel where the hearse sat in the driveway. Maggie steeled herself to what lay ahead before she walked into the chapel where Dani’s casket waited in the narthex. The honor guard took their positions on either side of the casket as the first strains of organ music filtered through the church. A sea of mourners filled the sanctuary and turned to watch Maggie’s slow procession down the center aisle behind the casket to her seat in the front pew on the left.
Graham sat across from her on the opposite side of the aisle, looking tired. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, due, no doubt, to late nights spent with the woman from the bar and grill. The thought of him racing into the arms of another woman the night Dani had died filled Maggie’s stomach with bile. She wanted to walk across the aisle and slap his face. Instead, she tugged at the edge of her jacket and kept her eyes facing forward, unwilling to acknowledge his presence.
Someone had placed the photographs of her sister and family on a small table near the altar along with a bud vase containing one yellow rose. Maggie stared at the pictures, trying to find something good on which to focus. At this moment, all she could think about was the senseless waste of life.
Nate slipped into the pew next to her. As much as she appreciated his support, she felt betrayed by his inability to realize what had really happened that fateful night. Was he still so hung up on his own brother’s death that he was unable to make an accurate judgment about her sister’s murder?
The funeral passed in a blur. The all-male choir of uniformed soldiers sang patriotic hymns that dated back to Civil War days. After the last strains of an especially moving selection ended, an officer in Dani’s unit read from scripture about the many mansions the Lord had prepared for those who died.
Similar words had been intoned at her father’s funeral, but Maggie had been too young to realize the long-term consequences of that death. Once again, her throat thickened and tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them with a tissue and gritted her teeth, determined not to let Nate or Graham have the satisfaction of seeing her pain.
Chaplain Grant moved to the pulpit. Maggie focused on the scripture he read and the kind words he said about Dani and her career in the army. He exalted her heroism and love of country, and his praise brought a lump of pride to Maggie’s throat and more tears to her eyes.
At the conclusion of the service, the pallbearers took their places beside the casket and, with uniform precision, began their return march to the hearse. Maggie walked behind the honor guard. Once the casket had been placed within the waiting vehicle, Nate took her arm and ushered her to the limousine provided by the funeral home.
She settled into the rear seat. Nate climbed in beside her, sitting close enough for Maggie to feel the heat from his body. Although aware of his nearness, she kept her eyes trained on the passing landscape and clamped her jaw together, trying to keep the tears at bay.
The graveside service passed in another wave of readings from scripture, punctuated with a rifle salute in honor of Dani’s service and concluded with a lone bugler and the doleful twenty-six notes of Taps that echoed over the hallowed ground.
Twice during the short ride back to the church, Nate tried to draw her into conversation, but both times, Maggie held up her hand and shook her head. She wasn’t ready to discuss anything except how much she regretted her sister’s death. He reached for her arm when he helped her from the car, but she moved out of his grasp, knowing any act of kindness would unleash the tide of tears she was trying so hard to contain.
The well-wishers seemed sincere at the reception where food lined a huge table not far from where she stood. A mix of civilians and military in uniform formed an impromptu receiving line to offer their condolences. After they expressed words of sympathy, they filled their plates with food and chatted amicably with others who gathered in small clusters around the fellowship hall.
The heartfelt sympathy of the people at Fort Rickman warmed Maggie’s heart. Their comments reflected their honest admiration for Dani. The positive impact she had had on so many lives was in direct contrast to the dark mood that had been so present at their father’s funeral.
Encouraged by the support for her sister, Maggie realized she had been too hard on Nate. If he were like the other military officers and noncommissioned officers she had met today, he only wanted to serve his country and do the best job possible.
Nate brought her a glass of water, which he placed on a side table near where she stood. She appreciated the gesture and recalled their first encounter, when the same small token of his concern had struck a warm chord in her grief-stricken heart. Could it only have been less than seventy-two hours since they’d met?
As the line of mourners dwindled at last, she looked around the hall, searching for Nate. He was standing by his commander, Chief Warrant Officer and Agent-in-Charge Wilson, a tall African-American who Maggie had met immediately after the service. As much as she had wanted to talk to the chief, she refused to discuss the sensitive subject of her sister’s death with so many people standing nearby.
Better to approach Chief Wilson now. Nate knew the way she felt and had heard her arguments before. Maybe he would even lend support. Relieved to finally have an opportunity to state her case to the CID commander, and with the funeral behind her, Maggie felt her spirits lift. As she neared the two men, the words she overheard Chief Wilson utter made her euphoria plummet into despair.
“I signed your request for transfer to the 105th Airborne.” Chief Wilson patted Nate’s shoulder. “Hate to see you leave us here at Fort Rickman to head back to Afghanistan, but I understand your desire to rejoin the fight as soon as possible. The unit’s due to deploy in three weeks. If I place a rush on the request, you should be able to join them within a fortnight. I just need to know if you can be ready to leave post that soon.”
Maggie tried to breathe. Nate was leaving Fort Rickman and returning to Afghanistan?
“I’ll get back to you on that, sir.” Nate turned from his commander and caught sight of her. His face opened into a smile. Did he realize she’d overheard his plans to leave Rickman and, in so doing, leave her, as well?
“Corporal Mills drove your car over from the BOQ and parked it in the church lot,” Nate said, oblivious to the effect the information was having on Maggie. He dug in his pocket for the keys to her car and handed them to her. “I won’t be able to give you a ride back since one of the Postal Inspectors called me a few minutes ago.”
She tried to focus on the words he was saying, but she couldn’t get around the fact that in just a few weeks, he was scheduled to deploy—a deployment Nate had requested.
“A package mailed from an APO in Afghanistan arrived at the Garrett post office,” he continued. “The inspector hopes they’ll be able to deta
in the point of contact when he moves in to claim the box. I need to be on-site. Things should move along quickly, and I plan to be back on post by late-afternoon.”
Nate was sidestepping the issue of his deployment and letting her believe he was still determined to find what Dani had uncovered in Afghanistan.
“Maybe we can go out for dinner tonight?” His eyes held no hint of guile as he stared at her.
“Maybe. Give me a call when you get back.” Hopefully, he couldn’t see the pain she tried to mask. “Excuse me for a minute.”
Turning her back to him, she headed toward the ladies’ room. Her head pounded, and the tears that had threatened to spill returned once again. Nate had known all along he was leaving post.
Don’t rock the boat. Was that it?
He didn’t want to do anything to counter his boss or infringe on Chief Wilson’s agreement to accept Nate’s request for transfer. No wonder he hadn’t investigated Dani’s death further.
“Maggie?”
She turned at the sound of Chaplain Grant’s voice. He followed her into the hallway. “I would be happy to drive you back to your lodging. I know this is a difficult day.”
She scrubbed her hand over her face, attempting to wipe away her seemingly perpetual trail of tears. “My car is parked outside, Chaplain, so I’ll be able to drive myself back to Agent McQueen’s BOQ, but thank you for the kind words you said about my sister today.”
“All true.” He looked at her with compassion, causing her determination to hold her tears at bay to falter and nearly crumble into oblivion. She tried to smile, but didn’t succeed, and knew her dam of self-control would soon break if she didn’t get away.
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