by Jodie Bailey
“Run out of grass to kill, Tate?” Jessica’s voice drifted up the hallway, and Tate turned to meet it while Sean’s heart picked up a notch. He dug his hands into the hardwood and willed his pulse to stop acting without orders.
“Yeah. I’m going to outsource to the neighbors next. This mess of spaghetti you guys are digging through is going to take a whole city block’s worth of lawns to sort out.” He threw up a hand to the as-yet-invisible Jessica and called back to Sean, “I’m passing the torch to you for the day. Last night was long and boring. See you guys this evening.”
Sean didn’t answer. Long? Yes. Disastrously life changing? Yes. Boring? No.
There was a mumbled conversation as Jessica and Tate passed each other in the hallway.
Sean shoved the blankets to the foot of the couch and stood, grateful he’d racked out in his sweatshirt and jeans. At least he looked halfway alert. It was nearly six-thirty. He’d have to get dressed quick if he was going to go in to work with Jessica. She’d likely be annoyed on top of her pain if he made her late.
Jessica hesitated at the end of the hallway, stopping at the sight of him. She caught his eyes, then flicked her gaze away toward the kitchen. She shoved her bangs out of her face and tugged at the hem of her plaid flannel shirt. “Morning.” The greeting was dull and directed at the dining room table.
“Morning.” Something wasn’t quite right. The Jessica he’d become acquainted with hated being late for work, hated anything that made her superiors think less of her. Yet, right now, with the clock dangerously close to departure time, she was wearing jeans and a purple flannel button-down, poking around as though she had hours. Had last night’s conversation been too much for her? Had he broken Jessica Dylan? “Why aren’t you in uniform?”
“It’s Thursday.” She didn’t stop walking; just let her voice trail her as she disappeared into the kitchen. Running water and clattering glass drifted on the tail of her statement.
It’s Thursday? Great. All he needed was more riddles. Sean scratched his cheek, the stubble scraping his fingertips. He edged around the corner to peek through the kitchen door, half-afraid she was going to haul a frying pan at his head.
But no. She was measuring grounds into the coffeemaker.
His mind might still be foggy from the unaccustomed sleep, but this was definitely out of the ordinary. “Jess... Jessica.” He had no idea how to address her after last night. He’d probably lost the right to Jess forever. Maybe even to Jessica. But doing a complete reverse to calling her Staff Sergeant Dylan? No. It sounded ridiculous. “What does Thursday have to do with anything?”
She stopped spooning coffee and stared at him in a way that made him wonder if he’d grown a second head. “It’s a DONSA.”
A day of no scheduled activities. Those usually fell on Fridays or Mondays. “On a Thursday.” He was drawing this out, but at least asking inane questions kept her talking to him. And even three-word answers felt better than picking up where they’d left off last night.
“It’s Thanksgiving. You know—turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie?”
Oh, yeah. Sean dropped his shoulder against the door frame. With everything else taking up space in his head, he’d forgotten.
“I’m behind on cooking, not that it matters. There’s no one coming over anyway.” She scooped in two more spoonfuls of coffee and dropped the lid. “Tate said you slept last night.”
Really? One good night’s shut-eye and the whole world acted as if the news should interrupt programming.
“Wipe that look off your face. It’s a big deal when Sean Turner gets a good...” She faltered, pressing the button on the coffeemaker and watching it come to life. “I’m glad you rested.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she pushed the machine away from the edge of the cabinet and pulled open the refrigerator door, staring inside.
Sean ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. The elephant standing between them took up every inch of space in the kitchen. They couldn’t act as though nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t let himself fall into the dream he’d had almost since the first moment he saw her, as if he hadn’t pulled away and cut her to the center of who she was by denying everything she believed. “Listen. About what happened. I—”
The bottles on the fridge door rattled as Jessica slammed it shut, then stood with her fingers gripping the handle, staring at the stainless steel. “There’s no reason to talk about what happened. You made yourself perfectly clear.”
Sean tilted his head toward the ceiling and exhaled loudly. “Jess...”
“I get it.” The tone of her voice changed, though it didn’t exactly soften. “But that doesn’t mean I like it.”
He tipped his head until he found her watching him.
She drew her tongue along her bottom lip. “I understand everything except you blaming God. It goes against everything I know to be true. And I can’t... I just can’t grasp that. I can’t hear that without hurting for you. But then again...” She pulled the refrigerator open for a second time and reached for the milk, her mouth drawn into a confused frown. “Then again I’ve never been in your shoes, so I guess there’s no way for me to ever really understand.” She reached up and pulled two coffee mugs from hooks beneath the cabinet. “I just want the chance to try.”
He ached to give her that chance. Even after last night’s blowout, even though the consequences were literally life and death, he wanted to close the space between them and give her the chance. Even if peace only existed for five minutes in the space of this kitchen, he wanted to pull her to him again. His legs ached with the effort of keeping his feet in place. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but her phone shattered the long stretch of emptiness between them.
She shook her head and pulled it from her pocket, checking the screen before answering. “Good morning, Major Braden.” She listened for a moment, then thunked one of the coffee mugs hard on the counter. “I’ll be right there.”
“What?” Sean’s feet moved forward of their own volition.
“That was the rear detachment commander. They found a body in the river closer to downtown. A female.” She finally looked up, weariness coating her words. “Wearing Channing’s uniform.”
* * *
“No, the families of our deployed soldiers don’t need to know any details. Captain Alexander wants no comments on Private Murphy’s death other than the bare facts. He stepped on an IED.” Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose and stared at the scarred wooden top of her desk, tracing a scratch with her thumb. They’d arrived at the building before the commander, and Jessica had made the mistake of answering her phone. “There’s nothing more going on.”
“What do you want me to say about the rumors swirling about Murphy? Because there’s been no official word, I’ve heard some crazy theories.” Trina Stewart, the Family Readiness Support Assistant who acted as the liaison between the wives and the chain of command blew out a sigh. “It’s Thanksgiving, Staff Sergeant. I want to be screaming at football on TV and stuffing myself until I’m miserable, not fielding phone calls about conspiracy theories. I’ve gotten a dozen calls today if I’ve gotten one.”
“I’m sure. My office voice mail is full.” Jessica sat back and stretched tight neck muscles. Between multiple threats on her life and one big threat to her heart, her nerves were stretched tighter than guitar strings.
Trina didn’t wait for her to say more. “I’m also getting questions about whether or not Specialist Channing was murdered.”
“What? Why would anyone ask that? She was only here temporarily before heading overseas. Nobody here even knows her, and how in the world would the families have heard something happened to her? We just got word yesterday.” Just wait until the families got wind of a body in the river wearing Specialist Channing’s uniform. Then things would really get out of control.
Trina chuckled. “If you put your ear to the ground around here, it hums with gossip and guessing.”
True. Especially when it came to deployed or soon-to-be-deployed soldiers. “Listen—” Jessica stopped as Sean tapped on her door frame and waited for permission to enter. She hadn’t seen him since they got to post, and his sudden appearance did something to her knees that made her glad she was sitting behind her desk. “Hey, Trina. I’ll have to call you back.” She clicked End without saying goodbye.
Jessica arched an eyebrow and waited, shoving down the memory of the kiss that had washed over all he’d said after.
Following the commander’s call, Sean hadn’t picked up the conversation about their relationship again. In fact, other than a few cursory comments, they hadn’t spoken since he walked out of the kitchen to get ready. It was as though their entire relationship had been set backward to before they met. No. Worse than that. Things had been a whole lot easier a few days ago than they were now. They’d shared too much to reset to the beginning.
But you’d never know it now. First he was silent, then he’d vanished, and now that he’d returned, the look on his face... It wasn’t one she’d ever seen before, and definitely not one she had the ability to read.
She worked to keep her own expression equally impassive. “Come in.” She could play detached and unaffected too, even though the memory of his embrace still pulled her close, warming her from the inside out. Even though her fingers were still tender with the rough scars on his arms. If he wanted to keep her at arm’s length, she’d let him. With his attitude toward God, distance was probably better that way anyway.
Since she’d met him, Sean had never been as hesitant as he was right now, slipping into the chair across from her desk as if he was half-afraid he wasn’t actually welcome in the room.
Jessica didn’t want to make it any easier on him, either. While the last thing she wanted was to let him know he’d wounded her with his disappearance, the kicked dog inside of her still wanted to bite. “Can I help you, Staff Sergeant?”
“So we’re going by rank now?” His posture shifted and tightened with annoyance. He straightened in the chair. “Isn’t that a little passive-aggressive?”
“Seemed like the right way to put that distance between us you seem to want.” Okay. Too far. Those words smacked of the hurt that pulsed just under her skin.
He relaxed. “Listen, Jess, like I said earlier, I did a terrible job of explaining myself last night. I don’t know that—”
“I thought you did a fine job. You’re exactly right. You have a job to do, and so do I. It just so happens that the two jobs intersect. When our jobs are finished, we’re finished. You can go back to Maryland and I can go on with...” She waved a hand in the air. With what? Even she had no idea what she wanted next. What her father wanted was abundantly clear, but what did she want for herself? After facing down terror in her own home, the desire to be her own person was growing. For the first time, what she wanted mattered.
Sean eyed her, waiting for her to finish. “It’s not that.”
“Then you’ve got about two minutes to explain, because the major will be here any—”
“The major is here now.” The voice from the doorway held more authority than Sean’s. Major Braden stood there, stone-faced and unreadable, clutching his phone in a white-knuckled grip. He cut an imposing figure, even dressed down in jeans and an orange sweater.
Jessica stood, and Sean glanced over his shoulder, then followed suit. “Sir.”
The major stepped into the room. “I’m glad to see you brought Staff Sergeant Turner with you. The two of you should hear this together.” He gestured for Sean and Jessica to sit as he dropped into the second chair in front of Jessica’s desk, thumb tapping the cell phone in his hand.
So the major did have some indication of Sean’s official presence here. She’d wondered how much Captain Alexander had passed up the chain. Jessica sat as the men made quick greetings.
The major held up his phone. His stark white hair and ice-blue eyes always made him intense and intimidating. Right now, it almost seemed he could freeze the device in his hand with nothing more than sheer willpower. “It seems we have more than one problem.”
“Sir?” Jessica sat forward and gripped her knees tightly, trying to channel all of her energy into her fingers so her body and her face wouldn’t reveal the strain. “Something besides Specialist Channing being dead in Colorado and someone else being found in the river wearing her uniform?”
A muscle tensed in Sean’s jaw, but he didn’t speak.
“The body in the river...” Major Braden rubbed the side of his nose. “I was sent a photo, one I’ll spare showing you so as to avoid ruining your Thanksgiving dinner later. But that body was the woman who was here calling herself Lindsay Channing.”
The coffee Jessica had gulped on the way over roiled in her stomach.
Sean sat back in his chair and ran his hands down the arms. “You’re sure, sir?”
“As sure as I can be without actually going to the morgue for a face-to-face.” He rolled his shoulders back and stiffened his chin. “I’m going to avoid that if I can.”
Sean nodded. “What about fingerprint identification?”
“That’s the thing.” The tone of the major’s voice changed, grew even more grave. “Her hands are missing.”
The chair rolled backward, crashing against the wall as Jessica stiffened and stood, sure she was going to lose everything she’d eaten for the past week. She swallowed hard twice and pulled in deep breaths. This was starting to sound like a horror movie. “What?”
Sean’s thumb beat double time on the wooden arm of the chair. “Someone didn’t care if the authorities recognized her face. But they sure did care if her identity could be easily tracked.”
The room swirled around Jessica. The woman they’d thought was Lindsay Channing was murdered just like the soldier she was impersonating. “So have we ever met the woman in Colorado?”
“I don’t know.” The major shook his head. “I called the detective out there this morning after seeing the photo of the woman in the river, and he had more to add to our mystery. They found the body of the real Specialist Channing several weeks ago. There was a delay getting DNA testing done.”
“So our Channing killed the real Channing and took her place here,” Sean said. “We have to figure out why.”
“But like I said, we have more than one problem.”
Jessica’s shoulders sank, the weight of everything too heavy. She wanted to get in her car and drive until she ran out of gas, then walk until she collapsed. Nowhere was too far away right now. Nowhere.
“Sir, I need to know what you know.” Sean sat forward, taking control of the situation from the ranking officer.
The major nodded and aimed a finger at Jessica’s desk phone. “I’ve got the casualty assistance officer, the one we sent to Specialist Murphy’s family, on hold on my office line. Lieutenant Parker found out something you need to hear. If you’ll bring him up on speaker, Staff Sergeant Dylan.”
Jessica’s gut iced over. She couldn’t handle much more. If Major Braden wanted Sean in here, this meant their puzzle was about to gain some more random, unfittable pieces. She pressed the two necessary buttons and cleared her throat. “Lieutenant Parker? This is Staff Sergeant Dylan. I have Major Braden and Staff Sergeant Sean Turner in the room with me.”
“Staff Sergeant Dylan.” The lieutenant’s voice carried a strain that tugged at Jessica’s stomach muscles even more. “Staff Sergeant Turner.”
The major leaned forward, focused on the phone. “Lieutenant, fill the staff sergeants in on what you told me.”
“Sir, I went to Specialist Murphy’s aunt’s house and we chatted a bit about her nephew. She pulled out his graduation picture as she talked and, well... The picture she showed me i
s not Specialist Murphy. At least, he looks nothing like the photo you sent.”
Jessica jerked her head back. She couldn’t help it. Fear heated her skin.
Sean looked driven, angry, and far from surprised. “This is Staff Sergeant Sean Turner. Did you show his aunt the pictures we sent with you?”
“Yes, sir. Mrs. Murphy said she’d never seen either of those soldiers in her whole life.”
FIFTEEN
“I can’t think anymore.” Jessica paced in the small courtyard surrounded by the battalion’s low brick buildings, clenching and unclenching her fists. “It’s too much.”
Sean stood in front of a memorial statue, watching her make the back-and-forth trek between a stone bench and the monument next to the one where he stood. His feet itched to pace right along with her, but if he showed restlessness, the two of them would only feed off each other until the only thing they accomplished was blisters on their toes. When the major had returned to his office to try to find more information on their dead suspects, Jessica had fled the room, claiming she was desperate for fresh air.
Sean couldn’t blame her. He’d hoped the chill of the November morning and the slight warmth of the Tennessee sunshine would jog something in either one of their minds. So far, nothing. Nothing but her pacing and him restless to join her.
Stopping on the farthest point of her route from him, Jessica turned and threw her hands out. “I’ve got nothing.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “What is going on here?”
“Start talking. Maybe we’ll sort the whole thing out.”
The words seemed to wrap around Jessica and bind her hands to her sides. She stared at him for a long moment, trying to read something behind the words.
Sort the whole thing out. In the middle of confusion and more questions than answers, had they both defaulted back to their relationship, to what happened on her porch last night? He’d give anything to take that moment back, but he couldn’t. And sooner or later they’d have to deal with it. But now was definitely not the time.
