by Lynette Mae
"…and I have everything I need right here." He shoved the manila folder in front of Devon as he spoke, opening it on the table. "What? You're not even curious?" She didn't look down. "Why, lieutenant, I'm just trying to afford you the opportunity to hear the charges and see the evidence against you. Obviously, you don't seem to understand the gravity of your situation."
Honeycutt removed the photographs and lined them up in two neat rows in front of Devon on the desk before removing some other pages. "Tell you what, you just listen while I read this very thorough report. You can follow along with the pictures." His tone dripped with sarcasm.
Susan was stunned as he read what she recognized at first as her report, but as he continued she knew that someone else had authored the final supplement. She listened, wide-eyed with astonishment as Honeycutt described the lieutenant making blatant attempts at seducing her, finally falsely saying that she tried to kiss her and was stopped by someone else approaching the table. She watched Devon look down at the pictures briefly before staring straight ahead again and this time she could see pain in the blue eyes.
"Jesus Christ," Susan snapped as she stepped back from the window, unable to look at the lieutenant's pained expression any longer. "That is not my report."
Karynn stepped very close and hissed into her ear, "No, that is my report, based upon my observations. Your professional detachment and objectivity were lost that night." She sniffed, "I have pictures to back up my version of the events that evening. Pictures don't lie."
"No. People do." She responded. The woman was in her personal space and making Susan's skin crawl. Susan moved quickly away, intent on getting outside to get some air because she suddenly felt like she was suffocating. Karynn's laughter followed her down the hall as she headed quickly for the back door.
Honeycutt broke for lunch, frustrated that so far his interrogation had not seemed to affect the cocky female lieutenant. Back in his office, he scanned the file he knew so well, formulating his plan of attack for the afternoon. He knew he had enough evidence, with or without a confession, but he wanted to break her. He wanted to witness the instant when she lost hope and her despair made her agree to tell him whatever he wanted. His experience taught him that to achieve that, he was going to have to expose a nerve and that's just what he intended to do that afternoon.
Chapter 44
Susan hurried across the parking lot to her silver Toyota Celica, dropping her copy of the actual report on James along with the second case onto the passenger seat beside her. She was so grateful that she had the foresight to keep her own copy, just in case. Her mind was spinning as she thought about Devon locked up in the interrogation room, arrested on the basis of a fabricated report. Honeycutt's version of her report.
She looked down at the folder containing the pictures and additional information she dug up in the past few weeks. She knew if she didn't do something now, she could never live with herself. The problem was, who would she tell? Honeycutt was in charge, it was her word against his-and let's not forget Karynn the super sleuth. There was no telling what the two of them were capable of. If only McKinley were still here. She would know what to do with this information.
As if fate had intervened, at the next intersection as Susan stopped for the light, she saw a sign outside of one of the nondescript military buildings that read out processing Station. "Oh, my God! That's it!" She shouted out loud in her car as she swung immediately into the parking lot and rushed inside.
She flashed her badge at the private at the front desk. "I'm Sergeant Miller, CID."
The private ushered her into an office where a bookish looking young Spec 4 sat behind a desk. "How can I help you, sergeant?" He asked.
"I'm looking for a witness for an ongoing investigation. She out processed a few months ago."
"That should be a simple enough request, sergeant," He typed a few things into the computer. "What is the name of the person you need to locate?"
"Captain Erin McKinley."
#
Ann woke up again to very bright sunlight streaming into the bedroom. Looking around the unfamiliar, sparsely furnished room, she tried to remember exactly where she was. Turning her head to the side, she saw an army jacket with lieutenant's bars on the collar hanging on the closet door. Now she remembered. She was at Devon's apartment. Sitting up slowly to test the intensity of her headache, she was relieved to find it not incapacitating. The clock read eleven fifty-five.
Her clothes were folded neatly in a nearby bentwood rocker and Ann observed that she was now wearing a plain green t-shirt and grey drawstring shorts. She smiled absently imagining Devon struggling to change her clothes while she was obviously too wasted to be of any help. She reached for the Tylenol bottle, snapping off the top and dumping three capsules into her hand before popping them into her mouth and finishing the glass of water.
Climbing out of the bed with effort, she made her way to the bathroom to pee before moving to the kitchen to make coffee. She found the coffee pot already set up and a mug waiting next to the machine for her; all she had to do was flip the switch to on. A note next to the mug read, "Hope you slept well. Help yourself to whatever you can find in the kitchen to eat. The towels in the bathroom are clean. See ya later."
Smiling at her friend's thoughtfulness Ann poured herself a cup of coffee and decided to give her a call to see how the day was going. Devon's direct line was answered on the fourth ring. "Com center, this is Janice how may I help you?"
"Janice?" Ann was thrown off momentarily by the secretary answering Devon's extension in such a generic way, "It's Ann. Is the lieutenant in?"
A long silence hung between them on the line making Ann wonder if they had been disconnected. She was getting a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of last night's alcohol. "Janice, are you there?"
"Yes, ma'am," the older woman replied with an odd tension in her voice, "No, the lieutenant is not in and I don't believe she will be in the rest of the day."
Her stomach tightened a bit more. She won't be in the rest of the day? Impossible. Ann reminded herself that all of the lines inside the building were secure and taped. She supposed Janice knew more than she was saying, but Ann knew she couldn't ask her, so instead she forced a light tone into her voice, "Okay Janice, thanks."
Severing the connection, she immediately redialed the non secure phone inside the operations center where the guys actually worked. A male voice answered on the first ring, and Ann recognized that it was Kevin, the new airman. Carefully formulating her question in her mind, she began, "Hi Kevin. It's Ann."
"Hello Petty Officer Baxter. How are you?" he sounded happy to hear from her.
"Fine, Kevin, thanks. Listen, I was looking for the lieutenant…is she in, by chance?"
"Um, I'm not sure…I mean she's not here right now…ah, did you try her office maybe?" She could hear fear in his voice and that was ratcheting up the anxiety crawling up Ann's spine. Knowing he worshipped Devon, she decided to press for a little information.
"Kevin, I already tried that. She's not there, I think you know that." She slipped some authority into her voice to get his attention as she said that. She paused to let him consider. Quietly she continued, "Kevin please, just say yes or no, okay?" He was silent so she continued, "Did something happen this morning?"
Yes." It was almost a whisper. Ann closed her eyes as her mind raced through the possibilities. Did Jefferies find another bullshit regulation to write her up on? Or was it something worse? The way Janice answered the phone was really starting to scare her-not even using Devon's name-like it wasn't even her office anymore. Oh, God.
She forced herself to stay calm, "Kevin, I want to help. You know the lieutenant is a good person. Can you tell me anything so that I will know where to start?" silently she prayed he would.
Finally, she hea
rd him breathe deeply, then say in a hushed tone, "MP's took her this morning, about two hours ago. Nobody's saying anything though. I don't know what's going on."
"Thank you-" she heard a click and a dial tone in her ear. "Damn it!" She screamed, throwing the phone onto the couch and pacing wildly around the living room. Her mind was reeling as she tried to process the information. Devon was arrested. It had to be CID, but what did that mean? Was is just her or was it some kind of a round up? They were all at the bar together last night; were any of the others picked up? Carmen? Elaina? Shit, I didn't go home. Did they try to find me too?
Feeling completely helpless and frustrated, Ann tried to get control of her emotions to think. She had to try to do something, but what the hell could she do? She couldn't call any of the others just in case. Mac. Yes, Mac would know what to do, but she didn't have her number. No, wait. Devon had to have the number. Frantically she began digging through drawers, finding nothing. Frustration quickly turning to anger, she pounded her fist on the coffee table. It has to be here.
Momentarily conceding defeat, Ann headed back to the kitchen to refill her coffee cup and think. She poured the steaming hot brew into her large mug. As she turned to pull the refrigerator door open to retrieve the carton of creamer, a small square of paper held in place on the door with an 'I love Boston' magnet caught her eye. There in neatly printed block letters she read: Mac McKinley 813-555-6643. Bingo!
Chapter 45
Sometime later, it seemed like hours but she couldn't be sure, Devon heard footsteps approaching down the hall and wondered who was coming in this time. After Honeycutt left, she had been left alone for a while, then the woman with the short spiky hair had returned with a turkey sandwich, a coke and a bottle of water. Devon had no appetite but did drink the water. Karynn sat down to eat her own sandwich and tried to make small talk with Devon to no avail. She gave up after about twenty minutes, taking the remains of her lunch and leaving the lieutenant alone again.
Since then Devon's thoughts were filled with so many people and things that it was starting to make her head thump. She tried to think about a reasonable way out of her situation, but of course there was no way out for her. Devon had made her decision about this type of circumstance when she was still with Jillian; she knew in her heart that she could absolutely not free herself by turning someone else in. And, that would be the price. They already had their 'proof' about her, so admitting her sexuality would mean nothing. No, they would want someone else's head in trade.
She sighed heavily, leaning her elbows on the table and holding her forehead in her hands, closing her eyes she listened to the sound of the footsteps coming closer. Devon looked up as the door opened and Honeycutt entered. Once again, he had a folder in his hands which he placed on the table between them as he sat across from her. "You didn't want your lunch?"
Devon shook her head and stared at him impassively. He shrugged, "Suit yourself." Without further comment he extracted several photographs and lined them up on the table the way he had hours before. Again, the lieutenant stared straight ahead rather than look at what he laid out in front of her. Unperturbed, he began, "I thought perhaps this afternoon you and I might take a bit of a walk down memory lane, Devon."
The use of her first name by this asshole made Devon want to scream, but she remained silent. She knew the chief observed the flash of anger in her eyes because he was looking smugly at her. Don't let him get to you.
"I realize that you didn't think very much of the photos from this morning, but I thought you might be interested in these ones I found of some old acquaintances," He leered, "since they will help you to understand just how you came to be here now."
He held up the first picture in front of her face. "You remember Lieutenant Gray?" Turning the picture around toward himself, he chuckled, "My, what a looker, I can certainly see why you couldn't keep your hands off her."
He proceeded to hold up several more pictures, continuing to comment on the photo or to mock her and Jillian. Finally, he laid out the last two pictures and Devon finally gave in and looked at the desk. One was a picture of her and Jillian, arms wrapped around each other and kissing. The background was hard to make out, but it looked like the wooded area by the lake on the base outside Boston. The second was a picture of Jillian sitting in a room much like the one Devon found herself in now. Her head was hung, shoulders slumped and she held her forehead in her hands, obviously defeated. As Devon stared at the pictures, Honeycutt removed a small tape recorder from his jacket pocket, set it on the table and hit play.
Jillian's voice, sounding fragile and scared, said, "What is it you want to know?"
"We only want the truth, lieutenant. Then we can make a deal." A male voice answered.
"Alright then, I'll tell you." Her voice was raw with emotion and Devon could hear the desperation and exhaustion. The thought of Jillian desperate, scared and broken unexpectedly brought the sting of unwanted tears to Devon's eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut against them as her stomach rolled, fighting the onslaught of painful, unwanted memories. Jumping abruptly from her chair and stalking to the far corner of the room, she pressed her palms flat against the wall above her head. With her back to Honeycutt, Devon didn't see his mouth turn up in a gleeful sneer.
The fat man put the tape recorder away and put on a concerned mask. He spoke quietly, "I have always respected your loyalty, lieutenant. That's why I thought you deserved to know that Jillian Gray sold you out. Her statements corroborated all of the photographic evidence." He was making up lies as he went along, but no matter; whatever it took to get her. He walked over to where she was standing and leaned close, speaking directly into her ear, "She turned you in to save her ass from jail. She fucked you, and then she really fucked you." He couldn't help laughing out loud at his pun.
He watched her struggle for control, the muscle in her jaw was jumping and her arms shook as they pressed against the wall. The interrogator knew he had her balancing on a razor edge, all it would take is one more tiny push. "You know, come to think of it," his tone was matter of fact; "Maybe it's you. Maybe once you touch them they can't get far enough away." His hot breath burned on her skin, "The little slut in Lebanon, did she die trying to get away from you?"
The pain that had been building inside Devon for over two years coalesced into a blinding rage that exploded as his hideous laughter shredded her already tattered control. "AAHHH!" An animalistic roar erupted from her and she swung her right fist, connecting with his mouth. The blow sent spit and blood from his split lip flying in the air. He staggered back against the wall as she came at him again driving her shoulder into his chest, pinning him to the concrete with her hands at his collar squeezing off his air supply.
"No." She said in a lethally calm tone, her face inches from his, "You are the lying motherfucker here. If she had sold me out, you would have arrested me the very next day. You had nothing, just like now you pompous son of a bitch. I don't give a fuck," she slammed his head against the wall for emphasis, "what pictures you have. They mean nothing without witnesses and you don't have any because nothing happened except me having a drink in a bar." Clamping her hand like a vise on his neck she finished in a low menacing growl, "And if you ever disrespect Agent Sommers' memory again, I swear, I will send you straight to hell."
He struggled to break her grip and managed to choke out a cry for help before Devon finally released him. As soon as she did, he lumbered to the mirror and yelled for the guards. They entered quickly, shoved her face down onto the metal table, wrenched her hands behind her back and reapplied the handcuffs. The guards apparently thought she didn't go down quickly enough. One drove his fist into her right side sending the air out of her lungs and a low moan from her throat. The other grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her face into the table. Devon felt her skin split along her right eyebrow and the blood run into her eye.
When they stood her up Honeycutt stepped close once again and snarled, "You're going to regret this."
"No matter what happens to me," she gasped trying to get air back into her lungs, "I will never regret hitting you, you lying fat fuck." His face turned purple with rage and he slapped her so hard across the face that she probably would have fallen, if not held up by the guards. She tasted blood and felt her lip begin to swell.
"Get her out of my sight," the chief thundered.
Devon was thrown forcefully into a cell where she spent the night haunted by her memories. When she finally dozed visions assaulted her dreams of Alex's body laying in the sand, her eyes staring in accusation. She spoke, only it was Jillian's voice full of pain and fear, "You didn't love me enough." Jumping awake, her breathing hard and fast, sweat pouring off her body, Devon cradled her head in her hands and let the tears flow. She cried for Alex, she cried for Jillian, and she cried for herself, wondering if some wounds were too deep to ever heal.
