Chapter Seven
“I understand you had quite a morning.”
Phillip looked up from the base map he was studying when Jess Alderman walked in. It was about time someone came to get him after he’d cooled his heels in the waiting room of the Naval Criminal Investigation Service for well over an hour. What little patience he had remaining was kept in place by an iron will that was rapidly rusting.
“That certainly is an understatement.”
“I spoke with CID. There were no fingerprints on the paper, except for yours in the corner—also, no evidence near the van.”
“There’s a surprise.”
Phillip didn’t care how sarcastic he sounded. It was all too convenient, too pat—too professional for a bunch of military policemen enraged over the death of a colleague. It had to be someone else. Perhaps the criminal was extremely clever—or else someone somewhere was covering up evidence.
Alderman swung the door open wide. “You can wait in my office. Malcolm is tied up right now on the phone, probably with the same civilian contractor who was pitching a fit over the theft of some tank-targeting equipment from the firing ranges.”
Phillip followed him down the hall. “Seems like an odd thing to steal.” He heard a voice rise in argument as they passed one room and he raised his eyebrows.
Alderman jerked his thumb toward the closed door. “Collins. With nothing but hundreds of miles of desert in any direction, we’re pretty accessible. Thieves will take anything that’s not nailed down and often those things that are, if they can get away with it. If there’s money in it, they’ll take it—copper, electronics, explosives that didn’t detonate. With a base this size, mostly uninhabited, there isn’t much we can do about security. A while back thieves broke into a maintenance shed out on one of the ranges and took thousands of dollars’ worth of tools. Just waited until the military shooting exercise was over, drove up the back way and cleaned it out.”
“Let me guess,” Phillip said. “Same civilian contractor.”
He nodded. “He’s furious. The multiple thefts are going to wreak havoc with contract negotiations. He comes in here yelling at us about security, but there isn’t much action to take at the moment and we didn’t find much evidence. All we could do was notify pawn shops in the neighboring towns. Coffee?”
Phillip declined. He’d had enough to float a ship. “Tools are one thing, but targets? How much money could they be worth?”
“A small fortune.” Alderman poured himself a small cauldron of coffee and eased into a vinyl chair opposite where Phillip now sat. “It’s not the target they want. It’s what’s attached to it—the box for pyrotechnics that sits at the base of each one. High-grade aluminum. Heavy as the dickens and worth a pretty penny.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Five hundred to a thousand dollars per stolen device. We know that the thieves steal hundreds of them every time they make a hit, so each successful robbery brings them a big chunk of change.”
“Let me guess.” Phillip rested his forearms on his knees. “The turnover is good because the aluminum bases have to be replaced for the next series of training missions.”
Alderman nodded. “Right. The Marines can’t stop training while we check each pawnshop for the missing targets. The government has to buy replacements, so the thieves wait for the chance to steal them again. It’s not a bad living if you can get away with it.”
“Which is apparently what they’ve been doing. Have you staked out the place?”
He shrugged. “Tried once. No luck. With our limited manpower and resources, there isn’t much more we can do.”
Somehow Phillip was beginning to think that was their stand on everything. His disgust must have shown because Alderman leaned forward.
“This main part of the base is small, but you have to remember there are also nine hundred and thirty-two square miles of desert out there and that doesn’t include the camp areas. There are just a handful of us. What else can we do to cover a military base this size?”
Phillip leveled a steady stare back his way. “Apparently, as with everything else I’ve seen so far, nothing.”
Alderman tilted his chair back, all rapport washed away by Phillip’s insult. “That’s hardly a fair statement. You’re judging us on an isolated incident.”
“Attempted murder, vandalism, threats, murder, theft of government property… That’s one hell of an incident, Mr. Alderman.”
He slugged down some coffee and gave a lazy grin. “Most of it was solved with the arrest of your client, from what I understand.”
Phillip didn’t buy Alderman’s good-old-boy routine for a moment. The man was sharp as a razor. “Awfully convenient, don’t you think?”
Alderman danced his thumb over the rim of his mug. “Criminals are bound to slip up at some time.”
Phillip cocked his head to one side. “Maybe. I only hope this one will slip up in time to save Staff Sergeant McKinley.”
Alderman tipped his chair back, seemingly digesting the words. “I know you have to defend your client to the utmost, but have you considered that she could have planted that note under your door last night?”
“Now that would have been a good trick. She slept the night through. I know because I watched her.”
“Too bad you weren’t watching to see who left the note.”
Phillip’s jaw twitched. The man had cut right to the core of his guilt. If only I had been more alert.
Alderman took a swig of coffee. “All I’m saying is, don’t be too zealous until you read the investigation report.”
“Something which appears as though it will take an act of God to achieve.”
He grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.” He set the chair to rights and left the office.
Phillip rubbed his temples in a slow circle. Why did he get the impression they had played a mental game of chess? Trouble was that he wasn’t sure who’d won the match. But one thing was certain. He was going to have to fight for every piece of evidence in this case. If Alderman thought another delaying tactic was going to make him give up, he was dead wrong. Phillip would sit here until he got the investigation report he’d come for or until they physically removed him from the building.
Minutes ticked by again. He made a note of it. If push came to shove, Phillip could shove pretty hard. A few well-placed phone calls would do the trick.
“Good morning, Captain Stuart. Sorry to have kept you waiting.” A balding man of slender build eased into the room, one hand extended in greeting while the other absently massaged his midsection. Each breath he took was an effort.
Phillip stood and accepted the handshake without hesitation, but that was as cordial as he intended to get.
“Malcolm Collins. I’m the investigating officer assigned to the Kemp murder case. Sorry I’m late. I was tending to an important personal matter.”
Personal? I’ve been biding my time waiting for Collins to handle personal business? “Well, this is pretty damned important, too. I’ve been waiting for well over an hour. When I make an appointment, I expect it to be kept.”
Alderman eased into the room behind Collins.
“What’s more important than a murder investigation?” Phillip asked.
Collins whirled around. “Just get off my case. I’ve got you on one side and my wife and her smart-assed attorney screaming at me to sign divorce papers on the other. Child support is killing me. I don’t know if I’m ever going to see my kids again and the bitch has the nerve to scream for spousal support. She’s got everything else. I’m surprised she’s not asking for the clothes off my back.”
In the dead silence that followed, a red flush covered Collins’ face. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar, trying to loosen his necktie while he composed himself. While coughing into his hand, he stared at a spot on the far wall.
“Sorry. I’ve been pretty busy. We’re a little short-handed around here. This divorce is killing me in more ways than one.”
“I understand.” At least he’d had the decency to admit his mistake. Phillip felt a small measure of sympathy for him. The subject was best left to die. “I’d like to look at those reports now, Mr. Collins.”
“Got them right here.” Collins reached into an enormous file folder and dragged out a thick sheaf of papers, wincing from the effort.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Collins?”
“I was doing some work on my roof over the weekend and fell off the ladder. Just bruised some ribs.” He held up the papers once more. “I would have made you a copy, but our machine is down.”
“I’m sure you’ll have one for me by the end of the day. In the meantime, if there’s a private place where I can read through this, I would appreciate it.”
“Sure. No problem. Plenty of empty offices around here.”
He led Phillip down the hall then left him on his own. Still, Phillip couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched. After settling at the desk, he started on the document.
A lot of the information was missing. Autopsy report on the deceased. Forensics evidence. Bullet trajectory. Photographs of the crime scene. Ballistics report of the weapon. That would all come later. The evidence already there bothered him.
As he already knew, the pistol was found in Rowan’s hand. Tests showed trace metal there as well, indicating she had fired the weapon. To make matters worse, the weapon was one of the ones listed as having been stolen weeks earlier from the base armory.
Collins’ notes suggested that Rowan and Kemp were having an affair. Statements from the deceased’s wife and a few of his friends supported the motive for the murder—jealousy because Kemp refused to leave his wife for Rowan.
Kemp had received two bullet wounds. One was superficial to the leg—the second, a fatal shot to the head. A rough sketch of the crime scene showed the position of Kemp’s body and where Rowan had been found. There was even a supposition on the investigator’s part. She had shot him in the leg, the two had struggled, Kemp had struck her on the head, she had shot him a second time—the fatal shot—then passed out.
Phillip studied the sketch. There was one heck of a distance between the two. Of course, it was hard to tell from a drawing. He needed to get a look at the scene of the crime and wondered if that would be as difficult a process as getting a peek at this initial investigation report.
Page by page he evaluated the material, noting those items he felt needed more clarification. By the time he finished, it was well beyond lunch.
“Done?” Alderman asked when Phillip finally left the room.
He slid the file onto the edge of the agent’s desk. “For now. Where’s Mr. Collins? I’d like to see the crime scene. I presume it was sealed.”
“It was. I’ll get Malcolm and we can leave right now if you’d like. Need a lift or do you have a vehicle?”
“I’ll follow you out there.” He hoped the new government vehicle checked out to him would last the trip.
* * * *
‘Out there’ was the most desolate landscape Phillip had ever seen. Sand. Miles and miles of sand, broken only by a sparse creosote bush here and there. Even the multi-colored mountains in the distance couldn’t ease the barrenness of the place. Infinite heat drew moisture from his skin. If this car died on him, the only sign he had been on the planet would be his bleached bones buried in the hot desert. He tried not to dwell on the possibility.
After thirty minutes of driving, they reached the airfield. There were the obligatory military buildings—the warehouses, the office spaces, even an attempt at civilization with small stores and eateries for visiting troops. Other than those signs of life, all that awaited them was never-ending, scorching desert.
They stopped before a large metal building. Yellow crime tape stretched over the doorway. As soon as they left their cars, a Marine lieutenant trotted toward Alderman.
“I hope you’ve come to tell me we can go inside now. The commanding officer’s barking left and right about it. It’s really holding up our unit’s work.” He waved his arm toward Collins. “Your partner here doesn’t seem to understand.”
Alderman shook his head. “Sorry, not until everyone is satisfied that all the evidence has been collected. Your CO will have to be patient.”
Collins clapped the man on the back. “I’m sure he wants to see justice done as much as the next person. Have him call us if he has any questions.”
Leaving the disgruntled lieutenant staring after them, they ducked under the tape and walked into the building’s dim interior.
Phillip expected some measure of relief from the oppressive heat, but the sun had turned the equipment building into an oversized oven, creating a wall of heat that slammed into him with the force of a hammer.
“Over there.” Collins pointed ahead.
Phillip and Alderman followed him to a taped outline on the concrete floor behind a row of fifty-five-gallon drums. Dried blood patches remained to mark Kemp’s head wound.
“Where did you find Staff Sergeant McKinley?” Phillip asked.
Collins pointed to chalk marks ten feet away. They were the only clue that someone had lain there. He glanced back toward the doorway. Another discrepancy glared back at him. Rowan had said she’d been struck the minute she’d entered, yet they’d found her unconscious some fifty feet away from the door, deep inside the building.
“Still think she’s innocent?” Collins asked, his tone mocking.
Phillip’s gaze flicked up to him. Collins stood, arms crossed with a cocky smirk on his thin face. Off to one side, Alderman stared at his colleague with undisguised dislike.
“Aside from the fact that it’s my job to believe she’s innocent, Mr. Collins, I do.”
Collins brought his hand to his mouth and slowly rubbed his lips. “Why, when the evidence is overwhelmingly against her?”
Phillip raised an eyebrow. “Body language, Mr. Collins. It tells a lot about whether a person is lying or telling the truth.”
“And she has quite a body to look at, doesn’t she?” Collins said with a sly grin.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Phillip snapped.
Alderman stepped between the two. “That was uncalled for, Malcolm.” His voice deepened to a threatening rumble.
Collins gave a short, barking laugh. “Sorry. This case is so cut-and-dried. I’m a little frustrated that the good captain can’t see that. As short-staffed as we are, I hate to have to spend time on wild goose chases. That’s all.”
“Then go on back to the office. I’ll ride back with Captain Stuart when he’s finished looking around.”
Collins shot Phillip an annoyed glance then left. Once he was out of range, Alderman faced Phillip.
“I apologize for my coworker. I can only put it down to job stress and his divorce problems.”
“Spare me the excuses, Mr. Alderman. Why the sudden concern?” Phillip demanded to know. “What did you see that changed your mind?”
Alderman ran his fingers through his snow-white hair. “Only about a hundred different things. Well, maybe that’s a bit of exaggeration.”
“But enough to raise questions.”
He nodded slowly. “A lot of questions.”
“So you think she’s innocent, too.”
Alderman chuckled. “I’m not going that far, but I will agree something isn’t right.”
Phillip didn’t care what the man thought as long as he finally had someone willing to investigate this more thoroughly. “Such as?”
Alderman squatted down before the outline. “Kemp was supposedly shot in the leg first, then they struggled. Why isn’t the blood more dispersed? There should be spots of blood all over the place if they struggled. There’s no blood pooled from where his thigh rested on the concrete floor. None at all.
“Then let’s look at where they found McKinley—face down ten feet from the body. Face down, unconscious. Given that she supposedly passed out after struggling with Kemp, as far as I know, there are no bruises that indicate where she fell on the concrete. Her skin shows the mark from a direct blow to the face but not an impact bruise from hitting the floor. Also, where’s the blood from her head wound?”
“I’m sure she bled”—Phillip said—“wherever it was she fell.”
Alderman’s knees popped as he stood. “So, you think she was moved?”
Phillip lifted an eyebrow. “If you go by her statement…yes. As far as I’m concerned, her statement is the only thing consistent with this whole investigation.”
“I’d have to agree with you.”
It’s about time someone did. “Then get a forensics team you can trust out here to go over this place with a fine-toothed comb.”
* * * *
There weren’t enough hours in the day. It was as simple as that. The team of six men worked with a painstaking accuracy that left no doubt in Phillip’s mind they were being thorough. The forensics agents were already working under a handicap. The murder had occurred three nights before and had been tainted by everyone who’d entered the building thereafter. Fortunately, it looked as though the crime scene had remained intact.
They found Rowan’s original location—right inside the front door. As Alderman had predicted, there was a faint, telltale sign of spittle and a smear of blood from where her cheek had hit the floor. Scuff marks from her boots marked where she had been dragged before she had apparently been carried to her final destination.
Chances were good that once the experts sifted through all the evidence, there might be enough to clear her. Then they needed to find the murderer in order to prove to everyone, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Rowan was innocent.
“That’s about all we can do for now, Jess,” the lead team member said. “Anything else?”
“One more thing. I need someone to follow the captain and me back to the legal office.” He cocked his head Phillip’s way. “Unless Staff Sergeant McKinley’s clothing from that night has already been taken as evidence.”
Judging from the way she’d looked when he’d first seen her, Phillip would have to say no. He shook his head. It galled him that Collins had treated the case in so cavalier a manner, and on the return trip to base mainside, he said as much to Alderman.
The older man shrugged. “I know it isn’t a valid excuse, but again, all I can offer is job stress. There are just three of us now. He’s been a little on edge for several months. His wife leaving really tore him up. He’s been battling with her ever since. Every time he gives her what she asks for, she asks for more. She uses those girls as weapons.”
“Then why in the world would he be assigned a murder investigation?”
Again the shrug. “He was the agent on call that night. Simple as that. I suppose I should have reviewed everything more carefully from the start, but I never expected him… Well, I guess he thought it was just cut-and-dry, as I said before. All I can do now is to try to correct things as best I can.”
He rested his elbow on the edge of the door and stared at the passing landscape. “It’s later than I thought. Do you suppose Staff Sergeant McKinley is all right?”
“I called Captain Connors. He’s watching out for her.”
He wasn’t the only one.
Phillip saw Laura’s car before they turned into the parking lot. It was right beside Rowan’s van, which now sported four new tires. Phillip experienced that instant, gut-wrenching worry that all men get when one old girlfriend meets another. He prayed that neither would discover the relationship. He cursed Zach for putting that idea in his head in the first place.
All three were waiting in Phillip’s office. Connors and Laura chatted away as if they were old friends. Rowan was tucked into the corner of the loveseat, reading a book. As if pulled by a single cord, all three looked up when Phillip walked in with Alderman.
“How did it go?” Connors asked.
“Interesting.” A vague answer, but the only one he intended to give while Laura was there. She was, after all, the prosecuting counsel. The fact she was so near his client without him present was also alarming. Phillip didn’t entirely trust Connors to keep their interests guarded.
He turned toward Laura. “You’re here early.”
“With the hearing going on Monday, I thought I’d better come up and get started. Do you intend to share what you’ve found?”
“Do you have a discovery request?”
She looked at him for a half second then burst out with a laugh. “Okay, I’ll play the game.”
“We’re going to watch the autopsy tomorrow if you’d like to join us.”
She screwed up her face in disgust. “No, thank you. I don’t even like to see the pictures. I suppose you’d like to be alone with your client?”
Phillip held the door for her.
She smiled. “You’ll have that discovery request in the morning.”
“I have no doubt.” He shut the door on her exit then locked his gaze on Rowan. “Where’s the uniform you were wearing the night of the shooting?”
“It’s right here in my gym bag.” She whipped open the zipper and held the garment up for verification. “I was taking it back to wash tonight.”
Alderman cracked open the paper sack he had tucked under his arm. “Nope. Put it in here. All of it. Uniform, underwear, boots—unless you’re wearing them.”
“No. I didn’t have the time to polish them last night.”
“Good for you,” he said with a broad smile and held the sack open for her.
Phillip watched her confusion as she placed each item in the sack. At the sight of the boots, he wanted to cheer. The rubber heels and leather backs were scuffed where she had been dragged.
“I don’t understand,” she said when the last item was tucked away. “Other than being dusty, there’s nothing on them—no blood, no dirt, not a smudge.”
Alderman folded the top and stapled it closed. “That’s what we’re hoping. If you’re ready to call it a night, I’ll escort the two of you back to the room.”
Rowan tossed her bag back to the floor beside her. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be staying in the office from now on. When some of the guys from my department found out what happened last night, several of them volunteered to stay here in shifts and keep an eye on me. They went out for burgers and should be back soon.”
“No.” Phillip spoke without thinking. The thought of her being alone with a bunch of guys he didn’t know made his stomach twist.
“Excuse me?” She used that tone that usually heralded trouble. There was going to be a fight and she was digging in deep.
Phillip braced his hands on his waist. There had to be a quick solution to pull his foot from his mouth. “You’ve already got an adultery charge hanging over your head. How will it appear if you stay here alone with a bunch of male Marines?”
“Coworkers and friends, Captain,” she replied, with a tilt of her chin.
“Men, Staff Sergeant.”
Captain Connors cleared his throat and they turned toward him.
“How do you think it looks for her to continue to stay with you? She’s got friends who care about her and want to help. Let them. I’ll be here, too.”
Phillip conceded the point with reluctance.
“I’m sure your wife will appreciate it too.” Rowan shot Phillip a sidelong glance through narrowed eyes.
He drew back, blinking in surprise. “My wife? I don’t have a wife. Who told you that?”
“I… You were talking to your friend about… I heard you talk about a woman.”
He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Laura. Captain Cushing. I wanted her to know the hearing was moved up.”
“But Oscar…your boy,” she stammered.
Phillip stared for what seemed an eternity before bursting into roars of laughter. “My dog.”
“Your—?”
“Dog. Wanna see a picture?” Without waiting for a reply, he sat beside her and pulled out his phone.
Connors groaned and rolled his eyes. “I think I hear the lieutenant bringing our dinner. I’ll leave you two with the puppy pictures. Back in a few minutes. I swear it’s worse than looking at pictures of someone’s kids.”
Phillip ignored him and shoved the cell into Rowan’s hands.
“A Weimaraner.” Her eyes brightened with tears as he smiled. “Isn’t he adorable? How old?”
“Eighteen months. He was six months there.” He scrolled to another photo—his favorite. The one playing ball at the beach, ears blowing in the breeze. “This was last month.”
Rowan’s smile widened, though she felt like crying. He doted on the dog. She could imagine what he’d be like with his child. The years stolen from them tore at her heart. They’d never get them back. The loss of that time with Phillip made her almost physically ill with regret.
But what about the future? What would he truly feel once he discovered he had an eight-year-old son? Would he indulge Ian as he did Oscar or would he refuse to be a part of the boy’s life? She couldn’t hurt Ian by presenting him with a father who wouldn’t acknowledge him. But wasn’t she hurting him more by allowing him to hero-worship a man he’d never met?
That was her fault. She should have nipped it in the bud when it had first happened. But she couldn’t take that adulation away from him and instead helped feed it. Now they’d both pay.
Blinking her vision clear, she pointed to the picture. “He sure loves you, doesn’t he? What are you two doing here?”
He draped his arm over the back of the sofa and leaned closer. “Playing ball. He’s trying to take it from me. Zach took the picture.”
“Got any more?”
“Naw. Zach made me delete most of them. He said it didn’t make a good romantic impression on the ladies.”
“Oh, I disagree. It’s a great icebreaker.”
“You think?”
“I sure do.” She handed him back the phone and shot a smile his way. “What woman could resist?” she finished in a whisper, voice trailing off with uncertainty.
Her lips were a fraction of an inch from his. If he only knew how tempting. If he only knew how much she wanted to close that infinitesimal distance. Her heart hammered against her ribs. It was wrong—a step neither of them should take for a hundred different reasons, all of which didn’t matter at that moment. She wanted to taste his mouth. Phillip tilted his head, ready to slide his lips over hers.
Footsteps in the hallway yanked them to their senses.
“Well”—he slipped the phone back in his pocket and stood with brisk movements—“that’s Oscar. Sounds like your guards are here so I’ll let you call it a night. I’ll have Captain Connors make arrangements with the hospital for you to have your body thoroughly checked for bruising. I’ll be back on Friday.”
Rowan willed herself to breathe again once he had gone. Her heart soared with joy. He wasn’t married. He was free—and he still wanted her. The look in his eyes had told her and she knew it well.
“Don’t, Rowan,” Captain Connors softly told her from the doorway.
She glanced up at him, her cheeks flushed from a combination of embarrassment and desire. With shaking hands, she accepted the hamburger and fries he handed her way. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” He walked in and shut the door. “I recognize the look. You know it can only lead to disaster for you both. I’ve managed to convince the colonel there’s no fraternization going on between the two of you. Please don’t make me a liar.”
Rowan nodded and bit into her burger, but the misery choking her made it almost impossible to swallow.