Читать книгу: «The Officer's Secret»
Maggie bristled. “My sister didn’t take her life.”
Nate glanced down at his notes. “Let’s go back to the beginning. What happened after you entered the house?”
She explained how she had searched the rooms and, finding nothing, had made her way to the attic. “The upstairs was pitch-black. I couldn’t see anything and waved my hand in the air to find the pull cord for the overhead light bulb. The moon shone through the window and—” She struggled to find her words.
His voice softened. “That’s when you saw your sister?”
She nodded. Tears pooled in her blue-green eyes and slowly trickled down her cheeks. Nate pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it into her hand, his fingers touching hers for longer than necessary.
Maggie seemed oblivious to the way his hand burned where it touched hers. What was happening to his ability to remain neutral? No one had ever affected him like the woman sitting close to him.
DEBBY GIUSTI
is a medical technologist who loves working with test tubes and petri dishes almost as much as she loves to write. Growing up as an army brat, Debby met and married her husband—then a captain in the army—at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled the world, raised three wonderful army brats of their own and have now settled in Atlanta, Georgia, where Debby spins tales of suspense that touch the heart and soul. Contact Debby through her website, www.DebbyGiusti.com, email debby@debbygiusti.com, or write c/o Love Inspired Suspense, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
The Officer’s Secret
Debby Giusti
MILLS & BOON
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If you remain in my word,
you will truly be my disciples, and you will
know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
—John 8:31, 32
To Tony and Joseph
My Military Heroes
To our brave men and women in uniform
God bless you
and
God bless the United States of America
To the Seekers
Thanks for making it so much fun!
To my editor, Emily Rodmell
You always make my stories better
To Tony, Liz, Eric, Mary, Katie and Joe
To Anna, Robert, John Anthony and baby William
I love you all so much!
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EPILOGUE
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
PROLOGUE
The night lay cold and dark outside the car just like the layer of regret that hung around Maggie Bennett’s heart. She had left Fort Rickman as a young teen, vowing never to return. Too many painful memories were associated with the army post, memories Maggie had secreted away in the deepest recesses of her heart. Tonight, she prayed those memories would remain hidden forever.
Squinting through the rain-spattered windshield, she approached Fort Rickman’s main gate and parked in front of the Visitor’s Center. The clock on the dashboard read 2:15 a.m., a chilling reminder of the urgency of the middle-of-the-night plea that brought her here.
If not for her sister’s phone call, Maggie would still be sound asleep at home in Alabama instead of seeking entry to the Georgia army post she had left sixteen years ago. Dani’s attempt at reconciliation last week when the two sisters had met for lunch had been as unexpected after their years of separation as tonight’s phone call. Maggie had been surprised that Dani would reach out to her so soon after opening up communication again, but she wasn’t going to let her sister down. Not this time.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled her key from the ignition and stepped from her car, shivering, not so much from the cold February night air but in anticipation of what awaited her. Perhaps Dani’s outreach would move them beyond the pain of their estrangement.
How had the years passed without either of them making an effort to reconnect? After more than a decade of silence, her sister’s invitation to meet for lunch had been a welcome first step. Both of them had been guarded at the onset. Then slowly, recalling their childhood days, the sibling bond had semisurfaced and opened them to share at least a bit more deeply.
Maggie had known intuitively that Dani had changed, even before she had mentioned her time in Afghanistan. The deployment had provided an opportunity for her sister to reflect on the purpose of her life and, as she had told Maggie, she’d eventually realized her marriage to Graham had been a huge mistake. As soon as Dani had returned to the States, she had tried to explain to her husband the way she felt, but he hadn’t wanted to listen. Evidently Dani had been more insistent tonight.
Over lunch, Dani had also alluded to a possible illegal operation she had uncovered during her deployment, something that could put her in danger if the wrong people found out. She hadn’t divulged any of the details to Maggie, although she had voiced her own hesitation about telling Graham. He traveled to the Middle East with the civilian contracting job he had on post, and for a reason her sister never divulged, Dani felt she couldn’t confide in him—nor could she confide in the military police on post, who Dani believed could in some way be connected to the Afghani operation. All of which made Maggie wonder whether her sister thought Graham was involved, as well.
The old Dani never worried about the future, but Maggie had heard concern in her sister’s voice a week ago and had seen the glint of fear in her eyes, no matter how hard Dani had tried to cover her anxiety with a nervous laugh.
Neither sibling had mentioned their father’s death or leaving Fort Rickman years earlier, yet the topic had hovered like a dark cloud over their time together until, in parting, Dani had opened her arms and the two women had embraced, both with some hesitation and neither making the most of the moment. Yet the outreach on Dani’s part had been significant enough to, if not knit the tear, at least bandage the wound she doubted would ever completely heal.
Pushing aside the guilt that had claimed her heart for too long, Maggie tugged her coat closed against the wind and hurried inside where the glare of fluorescent lights greeted her along with the brisk “Welcome to Fort Rickman” of the military policeman on duty.
With a perfunctory nod, she pulled her driver’s license and registration form from her purse. After giving him the documents, she raked her free hand through her chestnut-colored hair, painfully aware of her disheveled appearance.
If only she had changed into something more presentable than faded jeans and a baggy orange sweater prior to starting out on her journey. As distraught as Dani had sounded over the phone, Maggie’s focus had been on packing a suitcase and heading for the highway. She’d made the trip in a little over two hours.
“Ma’am, your reason for entering post?”
The MP’s question brought to mind a number of answers. “I’m here to see my sister, Major Danielle Bennett. She lives at Quarters 1448 Hunter Road.”
Referencing Maggie’s license and registration form, he typed information into a computer database before he handed them back to her along with the visitor’s pass. After a hasty word of thanks, Maggie scurried to her car, threw the pass onto the dashboard and climbed behind the wheel. A sense of déjà vu, mixed with sadness, slipped around her shoulders as she drove through the main gate and entered post.
Maggie passed the Post Exchange and Commissary and caught sight of the old movie theater in the distance. All too vividly, she remembered sitting by herself, while a few rows over, Dani watched the movie surrounded by friends—mainly boys taken with her raven hair and rounded curves. As a young teen, Maggie had been bashful, gawky and underdeveloped.
Uncomfortable dwelling on the reality of her childhood, she refocused her eyes on the road ahead. Speed limit thirty miles per hour, a road sign warned. Maggie checked her speedometer. Easing up on the accelerator, she made the first of a series of turns that eventually led to the old housing area where brick homes sat guarded by stately oaks. She entered the subdivision painfully aware of even more memories that bubbled up from her youth. Despite the years that had passed, the streets were still familiar. Maggie turned right at the first intersection and pulled to a stop in front of Quarters 1448 where her sister now lived.
For a long moment, she stared at the Federalist-style structure built in the early 1900s, knowing farther down the road and on the opposite side of the street sat another two-story house with the identical floor plan where Dani and Maggie and their parents had lived when the girls were teens. Their dad’s assignment had been cut short by his death—a tragedy that haunted her still. Dani carried the guilt on her shoulders, while Maggie carried it in her heart.
Pulling in a calming breath and forcing her mind back to the problem at hand, she yanked the keys from the ignition, grabbed her purse and overnight bag and stepped onto the sidewalk. This wasn’t the time to revisit the past.
Maggie needed to focus on her sister’s problems. Dani’s voice had been stretched thin over the phone when she’d called, and the nervous laughter Maggie had heard at lunch last week had been replaced with labored pulls of air brimming with tension. The fact that Dani had even called made Maggie realize how desperate her sister was for help.
Graham had moved out a week ago, but he kept coming back, insisting their marriage could be saved. Finally, Dani had told him point-blank she wanted a divorce. Never one to be pushed around, Graham had balked at first until he finally realized Dani wouldn’t change her mind.
The Graham Hughes Maggie remembered usually got what he wanted. And from what Dani had said, it sounded as if Graham wanted his marriage intact, which was why Maggie had packed a suitcase and driven two hours to arrive at Fort Rickman in the middle of the night. Not that Maggie could provide protection, but she could offer her sister much-needed support.
Before closing the driver’s door, she dug into her handbag for the house key Dani had insisted she take when they’d finished their lunch last week and were ready to part company again.
“Just in case,” she’d said, giving no other information as she had shoved the key into Maggie’s hand. Now glad of her sister’s forethought, Maggie climbed the steps to the front porch and knocked repeatedly on the door. When no one answered, she slid the key into the lock and stepped inside, feeling an immediate sense of coming home.
Her gaze swept Dani’s living room, taking in the two Queen Anne chairs, the couch and love seat and then the marble-topped coffee table decorated with memorabilia her sister had kept that honored their military dad. His medals and the flag that had draped his coffin were both displayed in glass cases, reminders of the man he once had been.
Leaving her suitcase and purse in the foyer, Maggie shrugged out of her coat and followed a lone light into the kitchen. Neat, uncluttered, every item in its place and, just as with the living room, so like their house of old. Their mother had been a meticulous housekeeper, and from the looks of Dani’s quarters, she kept her own house as tidy as their mother had up until her own death years ago.
Circling through the dining area, Maggie stopped at the foot of the stairs. She glanced up and listened, hearing nothing except the wind buffeting the house.
“Dani?” On the phone her sister had mentioned being tired. Had she gone to bed?
Maggie flipped on the upper hall light and climbed the wooden stairway that wound to the second story. A small bathroom sat at the top of the landing, flanked by two bedrooms. Searching for her sister, she glanced into each room—one of which had been turned into an office—before she headed for the master suite and tapped on the door.
Stepping into the darkened interior, Maggie switched on the lamp, noting the neatly made bed and undisturbed accent pillows. The bath and dressing area beyond sat vacant, as well. Backtracking to the head of the stairs, she peered over the banister, debating her options, then refocused her gaze on the closed door at the end of the hallway.
Her pulse quickened, pounding against the tendons in her neck, filling her ears with the thump of her own heartbeat. Visions from the past returned to taunt her as they often did in the stillness of the night.
Her father’s body shrouded in death.
Her mother’s screams of disbelief.
Maggie shook her head ever so slightly, scattering the memories that clouded her consciousness.
“Let the dead bury the dead,” came the words from scripture. Maggie had moved on with her life and didn’t need reminders to draw her back in time.
What about Dani?
Over lunch and again on the phone tonight, she had sidestepped mention of their father’s death. The realization that Dani could still be caught in the past unnerved Maggie. With purposeful steps, she walked to the end of the hallway. The stairs to the attic sat behind the closed door. Maggie grabbed the knob and tugged it open.
Light from the hall spilled across the bottom steps. Pulling in a fortifying breath, she climbed the stairs, one foot after the other. At the top, she peered into the darkness and swatted the air, hoping to make contact with a pull string for the overhead light just as she had done years ago in her childhood quarters.
A sound below punctuated the stillness. Footsteps or the creaks of an aged house? Perhaps Dani was home after all. Maggie turned to descend the stairs she had just climbed.
A moonbeam broke through the dormer window, cascading light into the corner of the attic where an overturned ladder-back chair lay on the floor.
The hair on the back of her neck rose in protest.
“No!” Maggie screamed as she raised her eyes and focused on her sister’s body, hanging from the rafters.
ONE
Chief Warrant Officer Nathaniel Patterson, U.S. Army Criminal Investigation Division, got the call at 0315. Possible suicide at Quarters 1448 Hunter Road.
Arriving fifteen minutes later, he parked behind two MP sedans and stepped from his car, adjusting his weapon on his hip. Although Nate hadn’t known Major Bennett, the death of an officer was significant, and tonight, the combined resources of the military police and the army’s major crime unit, the CID, had been called in to investigate the case.
Headlights signaled an approaching vehicle. Nate waited as his friend and fellow agent, Jamison Steele, crawled from his late-model sports car. Dressed in a tweed sports coat and gray trousers, he looked like a fashionable young executive in contrast to Nate’s run-of-the-mill navy blazer and khaki slacks.
With a hasty nod, Jamison fell into step beside Nate and followed him up the front steps in silence. Before either man could knock, Corporal Robert Mills opened the door. The young MP had the makings of a future CID special agent if he learned to keep his somewhat self-centered ego in check. Nate chalked it up to youth. Hopefully over time, his impetuous nature would mellow.
Raising his right hand to his forehead, Mills saluted the two warrant officers. “Evening, Mr. Patterson. Mr. Steele.”
The agents returned the salute and stepped into the brightly lit foyer. Nate glanced into the living room where a woman sat huddled in a high-backed chair. Blue-green eyes looked up with the hollow stare of shock he’d seen too many times at crime scenes. The raw emotion written so clearly on her face brought home the tragic reality of what had happened tonight.
Their eyes met and held for an instant, causing an unexpected warmth to curl through Nate’s gut. Then, tugging on a strand of her auburn hair, she dropped her gaze, breaking their momentary connection and leaving Nate with an emptiness he couldn’t explain. Probably the middle-of-the-night phone call and his attempt to respond as quickly as possible that had thrown him slightly out of sync.
Or maybe it was the woman—a family member, perhaps.
Putting a human face on the tragedy—a very pretty face—intensified his desire to learn the truth about what had happened tonight. Nate was good at what he did. Tonight he wanted to be even better. The woman deserved as much. So did the victim waiting for him upstairs.
Bottom line, the army took care of its own in life and especially so in death. He motioned Corporal Mills into the kitchen as Jamison headed upstairs. Nate pulled out a small notebook and ballpoint pen from his breast pocket then, lowering his voice, he nodded toward the living room. “So who’s the woman?”
“She’s the sister of the deceased, sir. Name’s Margaret Bennett, but she goes by Maggie. She found the major’s body in the attic.”
Nate knew how tough it was to lose a sibling. He thought of his own brother. Although eight years had separated them in age, they’d always been close.
He scribbled Maggie’s name on a blank page of his notebook. “Apparent suicide?”
“Roger that, sir. Major Bennett hung herself from a rafter. Sergeant Thorndike’s upstairs. He wanted me to check for prints.”
A half-empty bottle of cabernet sat on the counter. Nate pointed to a wineglass, stained with residue. “Be sure to send off a toxicology sample on whatever’s in the bottom of that glass.”
“Yes, sir.”
Opening the dishwasher, Nate used a latex glove he pulled from his pocket and lifted a second wineglass onto the counter. “Check the bottle and both glasses for prints. Let me know what you find.”
“Will do, sir.”
Nate nodded his thanks to Mills, returned the notebook to his pocket and grabbed a water glass from the cabinet, which he filled from the tap. Leaving the kitchen, he approached the woman in the living room.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I thought you might be thirsty.”
Maggie Bennett glanced up with tear-filled eyes and a drawn face that expressed the heartbreak of a deeply personal loss. The two sisters must have been close. His heart went out to her, understanding all too well the pain she must be feeling.
“I’m Special Agent Nate Patterson, U.S. Army Criminal Investigation Division.” With his free hand, he pulled out his CID identification, although he doubted Ms. Bennett would question his credentials. At the moment, she looked like a frightened stray caught in a trap. A beautiful stray, he decided, noting her high cheekbones, arched brows and full lips. But her strikingly good looks were overshadowed by a blanket of grief that lay like a black veil over her alabaster skin.
“I’m the lead investigator on this case, ma’am. Please accept my condolences as well as the heartfelt sympathy of the CID and the Military Police Corps here at Fort Rickman.”
She bit her lip, then mumbled a broken, “Thank…thank you.”
“I’ll be upstairs for a few minutes. When I return I’d like to talk to you about your sister.” He placed the water on the end table.
She gave a brief, pained smile of thanks at the offered glass and then looked back at him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you need to know.”
Nate climbed the stairs to the second floor, feeling the weight of Maggie’s grief resting on his shoulders. He’d give her a few minutes to gather strength before he saddled her with the endless questions that any death investigation required.
Reaching the second landing, Nate glanced into the home office on the right where Corporal Raynard Otis attempted to access the victim’s laptop computer files. The soldier looked up, a full smile spreading across his honey-brown face. “Hey, sir. How’s it going?”
“You tell me, Ray.”
“Should have something for you shortly.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Nate continued on to the open attic door. Rapid flashes of light confirmed the military photographer was already on the job. Within the hour, photos would appear on Nate’s computer, systematically capturing every detail of the attic scene.
On the opposite side of the hallway, Jamison questioned a military policewoman and jotted down pertinent information she shared, information the CID team would review over and over again until all the facts were in and a determination could be made about the actual cause of death. Foul play needed to be ruled out. Hopefully, the case would be open and shut.
Climbing the stairs to the attic, Nate eyed the rafter and the thick hemp rope wrapped around the sturdy crossbeam. Without forethought, he touched his breast pocket where he had tucked the notebook, containing Maggie’s name, as if to shield her from the grim reality of her sister’s death. Lowering his gaze, he took in the victim’s black hair and swollen face.
God rest her soul. The prayer surfaced from his past. His mother’s influence, no doubt. She had raised him to be a believer, although his faith had never been strong, and for the past eight months, he had tuned God out of his life completely.
Once again, his hand sought the notebook as his eyes refocused on the body.
Death by strangulation was never pretty, yet despite the victim’s contorted features, he recognized the same classic beauty that the very much alive sister sitting downstairs possessed. The deceased, with her low-cut silk blouse and snug-fitting leggings, appeared to be the more flamboyant sibling in contrast to Maggie’s modest jeans and sweater, but appearances could lie, and more than anything else, Nate needed the truth.
A chair lay at Major Bennett’s feet. Classic suicide scenario. In all probability, the victim had stood on the chair to secure the rope around the crossbeam and the noose around her neck. Kicking over the chair would leave her hanging and preclude the major from saving herself, should she have second thoughts about taking her own life.
Staff Sergeant Larry Thorndike stepped forward. The military policeman was mid-fifties with a receding hairline and an extra twenty pounds of weight around his middle.
“The victim worked in Headquarters Company of the 2nd Transportation Battalion,” Staff Sergeant Thorndike offered as Nate glanced his way. “The major redeployed home from Afghanistan fourteen days ago as part of the advance party.”
“Same unit that had two casualties in Afghanistan this week?” Nate asked.
“That’s right, sir. Captain York—the company commander—and his driver hit an improvised explosive device. Now this. It’s hard on the unit. Hard on everyone.”
Nate knew all too well the tragic consequences an IED could cause. Was that what had led to the major’s suicide? Had she felt in any way responsible for the captain’s death? “How long before the medical examiner gets here?”
“The ME should be here any minute.”
“Did you talk to the sister?”
The sergeant nodded. “But only briefly. She’s pretty shook up.”
An understatement from what Nate had seen.
“Ms. Bennett had enough sense to call for help,” Sergeant Thorndike continued. “When I arrived she was white as a sheet and hyperventilating. Said she lives in Independence, Alabama. Received a phone call at approximately 2330 hours from the deceased. The victim sounded anxious, according to the sister. Major Bennett had fought with her estranged husband, Graham Hughes, shortly before the phone call.”
“The major used her maiden name?”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Has the husband been notified?”
“Negative. We’re trying to track him down. Evidently he moved out a few days after Major Bennett arrived stateside.”
“Alert the post chaplain to a possible notification of next of kin. I’ll want to talk to the husband. Let me know when you find out where he’s staying.”
“Will do, sir.” The sergeant unclipped his cell phone from his belt and stepped to the corner of the attic to call the chaplain.
Nate neared the body. He examined the knots that formed the noose and then the victim’s neck and hands, noting her intact skin. No signs of struggle. Blood had pooled in her extremities, consistent with death by hanging and the beginnings of rigor mortis. It all looked like a textbook suicide, and yet… Something about it bothered him, and it took a minute to put his finger on it.
The sergeant closed his cell. “Chaplain Grant will be here shortly, sir.”
Nate pointed to the victim’s bare feet. “Where are her shoes?”
“Main floor, sir. Under a table by the door.”
“It’s a cold night. Why would Major Bennett walk around her house without shoes?”
The sergeant shrugged. “You got me there, sir.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Nate turned as Major Brett Hansen, the pathologist and medical examiner on post stepped into the attic. “Good to see you, Nate.”
“Sir.”
The major nodded to the sergeant and photographer. “What do we have here, gentlemen?”
Nate filled him in on the somewhat limited information accumulated so far. Wasting no time, the doc slipped on latex gloves and began his visual exam of the victim’s body. Once complete, Sergeant Thorndike would lower her to the floor so additional forensic evidence could be gathered.
Knowing the procedure would take time, Nate descended the stairs to the first floor where the bereaved sister sat, legs crossed and head resting in her hands.
Peering into the kitchen, he saw Mills bent over the wine bottle. “Find anything yet?”
The MP looked up. “The glass you pulled from the dishwasher had been wiped clean, sir. We might get lucky on the bottle.”
“Good man.”
Entering the living room, Nate glanced, once again, at the grief-stricken woman. She appeared fragile as a butterfly and, no doubt, was devastated by what she’d discovered tonight. As much as he hated to disturb her, Nate needed information.
Moving closer, he touched her shoulder. The knit of her sweater was soft to his fingertips. “Ms. Bennett? Maggie?”
She looked up, startled. The pain in her eyes cut through him like a well-aimed laser beam.
“If I could have a few minutes of your time, ma’am.”
Fatigue lined her oval face, but her ashen coloring concerned him more. She had found her sister’s body and was surrounded by law enforcement personnel trying to make sense of a tragic death. No one had time to offer her more than a perfunctory word of compassion or support.
He glanced at the empty glass on the end table. “Would you like more water?”
She shook her head and rubbed her hands over her arms. “Thank you, no.”
“If you’re cold, I could raise the thermostat?”
“I… I’m just tired.”
“Of course.” He pulled up a chair. “Could you tell me what happened tonight?”
When she didn’t answer, he scooted closer. “I know it’s difficult.”
She nodded. “Dani called me. She was upset…almost hysterical. She had told her husband she wanted a divorce.”
Nate removed the notebook and pen from his pocket. He needed to put aside the fact that this woman ignited a spark of interest deep within him and focus instead on the questions he had to ask and she, hopefully, would be able to answer.
“Graham…” Maggie hesitated. “My sister’s husband wanted them to reconcile.”
“Go on.” Painfully aware of the heat that continued to warm his gut, Nate swallowed hard and concentrated on the information Maggie began to recount.
“They…they had argued. Graham was upset. But then so was my sister. Dani told him to leave. Obviously, he…he came back later and—”
When she failed to complete the statement, Nate asked, “When did your sister and Mr. Hughes marry?”
“Dani ran into him shortly after she transferred here to Rickman. That was two years ago. They dated a few months. She sent me a wedding announcement after they were married.”
“You attended the ceremony?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
Could Maggie’s dislike of her brother-in-law stem from being excluded from their wedding? Nate drew a question mark on his tablet before asking, “Did you know Graham?”
“Yes.”
“Had infidelity been an issue?”
She wiped her hand over her cheek and sniffed. “Not that Dani mentioned. But when we met for lunch last week, she told me that their marriage was over.”
Nate nodded as he continued writing. “When you entered the house, did anything indicate Graham had been here?”
“A bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. Dani never drank red wine.”
“What about her husband?”
“I… I don’t know. When I was upstairs, I heard footsteps on the first floor.” Maggie bit her lip and shook her head ever so slightly, her eyes widening with realization. “Graham must have been in the house the whole time I was searching for my sister.”
“Did you see Graham Hughes?”
“No, but it had to be him.”
Had to was supposition. Maggie seemed eager to place blame on her brother-in-law’s shoulders. Too eager? No matter how unlikely, if Major Bennett’s death were ruled a homicide, the beautiful woman sitting next to Nate could end up being a person of interest, as well.
“Was the front door locked when you arrived?”
Maggie nodded. “I knocked. Dani had mentioned being tired. I thought she might be sleeping. When she didn’t answer the door, I used the key she had given me when we met for lunch.”
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