Silent Witness (10 page)

Wiping his eyes, Tommy sat up straight and gave them a wobbly smile.

“I see,” Ellen murmured.

“Where is her bear?” Tommy suddenly asked.

“The police are keeping it as evidence, for now,” Cochrane answered.

He nodded. “When they're done with it, could you send it to me?” His voice cracked. “Please?”

“Normally, most effects go to the parents,” Cochrane said.

“The captain will throw it away.” He rubbed his hands slowly up and down his thighs. “I'll keep it. Maybe, someday, when I have a family of my own, I can give it to my daughter.” He looked searchingly at them. “That bear means a lot to me.”

“We'll make sure you get it,” Cochrane promised.

“Susan stayed in close touch with me. Always. I—I just can't figure this out. Anytime she had problems, she'd write or e-mail me if I was on carrier duty, or call me if I was based at a station.”

“What kind of problems?” Ellen inquired.

“Three years ago Susan fell in love with a naval aviator who was married. Lieutenant Commander Todd Weston. The dude was on temporary duty, assigned to her squadron for four months. During the romance she didn't know he was married, and when she found out,
she broke off the relationship. She was devastated and embarrassed. This guy was a real manipulative bastard. He talked about Susan to some of the other fighter jocks, and it became a real mess. Susan almost resigned her commission because some of the squadron lowlifes plagued her about the affair. It hurt her career and her name. She put in a request for a transfer, and that's how she got the Top Gun assignment. Someone looked out for her interests and she was transferred here. I don't think she ever got over the humiliation of being suckered in. It really burned her bad.”

“What happened to the lieutenant commander?” Ellen asked.

“He returned to his original squadron, acting like a happily married man. Of course, you know it's always the woman's fault,” Tommy said.

“So, she did have one serious relationship,” Cochrane interjected, changing the direction of the conversation.

“Susan wasn't very adept at male-female relationships,” Tommy told them. “She never got any ‘training,' if you will, during her growing-up years, mostly because the captain wouldn't allow her to date. I think he was afraid of her getting pregnant out of wedlock, and the effect it would have on his career. She just didn't understand the personal side of guys. How could she?”

“Did she have someone special here at Giddings?” Cochrane asked.

“Not that I know of. After that debacle at the other
station, Susan was staying away from the aviation jocks like poison. Weston got even—he had some photos of her in a bathing suit that he'd taken at the beach. He had copies made and passed them around to every jock that wanted one. Plus he put them on the Internet for a time, until Susan hired an attorney and the guy took them off his Web site.”

With a sigh, Ellen looked up at Jim. “I think we've got what we need.”

Tommy said, “My sister was a good person, Agent Tanner. Please, find out what happened. Why did she die? Why?”

“We'll find out,” Cochrane told him, determination in his tone.

June 28

O
NCE THEY ARRIVED AT
the Embassy Suites, Jim braked the car and looked over at Ellen. The day had been pure hell and he needed her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “You did a good job today. Those weren't easy interviews.” Touching her helped him. He saw tenderness shining in her eyes, and it made him feel better about their rotten day.

Ellen's heart galloped. Jim's eyes were soft and dusky and full of promise. His fingers lingered and then began caressing her shoulder. Ellen absorbed his caress as if she was starving. She wanted him to stay here with her. She wanted to turn and face Jim—and then what? Anxiety riffled through her. No. She had to get away from him in order to think clearly. Of course, he wasn't trying to confuse her, but he didn't realize how vulnerable she was, especially with this case they were investigating. With shaking hands, she gathered up her notes and briefcase. “I'm glad I could help.”

Reluctantly, Cochrane lifted his hand away. His heart
sank when he noted the anxious look in her eyes. Perhaps he'd overstepped his bounds with her. But somehow, Ellen's presence opened him up, and he was acting in a way he never had before. Clearing his throat by way of apology, he rasped, “You did a hell of a good job of interviewing Tommy. I'm impressed.”

“Thanks, Jim. That means a lot to me.”

He didn't want her to leave just yet. “Tell me about yourself? We've got a few minutes.” Seeing the surprise in her eyes, he added, “Were you a wild redhead growing up?”

Sitting back, Ellen laughed. “My parents were in law enforcement, so I was a good little kid, contrary to what you might think about red hair.” She drowned in his hungry gaze and her spirits lifted. “I lived in Minneapolis, Minnesota. I come from German and Irish stock, and according to my mother, who's still a police officer, I'm stubborn as all get-out.”

“Stubbornness can be good,” Jim said. “Especially on an investigation where you can't give up. You have to finish it.” He smiled over at her. “How did you become an analyst?”

“I love people. I have forever been curious as to why they act and react the way they do. Even as a teenager, I was fascinated with people and how they dealt with life.”

“Did you have patients back in Washington?”

Shaking her head, Ellen said wryly, “You aren't going to believe this, Jim, but it's too painful for me to be
a therapist. That's why I went to work on the mind-set of bank robbers, to create a profile on them for the FBI. I guess I'm incapable of staying at arm's length with people's feelings. Mom calls me empathetic—I feel another person's pain. I'm not apologizing for it either. I'd rather be in touch with my emotions than suppress them. And that's what I'd have to do in order to be a psychotherapist with patients.”

“You used all your skills today. I saw how you worked with Tommy.”

“My education does come in handy every once in a while.” Ellen flashed him a hopeful smile. “I'm glad you see me as a positive now, and not a negative.”

“You weren't the problem,” he said apologetically. “It was me, Ellen. Having a partner isn't so bad, after all.”

“I think you were so used to working by yourself that when I crashed into your life out of the blue, it threw you off balance.” She laughed. Her anxiety over his unexpected caress melted into raw need. Ellen wanted to sit here and just talk with him—about so many things. To explore Jim on all levels. When he touched her shoulder once more, she sighed in response.

“You always seem to know when I need that,” she murmured. His hand was butterfly light, and she ached for more contact.

The desire to lean over and kiss her nearly overwhelmed Cochrane. Shocked by his need, he cleared his throat. “Get going, Ellen. I know you're trying to
line up an apartment. You've got plenty on your plate even after work. I'm going to drop over to see my daughter. I'll be home after that, trying to catch up on our other cases. Let me know if you need anything.”

Ellen felt relief, then sharp disappointment. She had seen the look in Cochrane's eyes: he'd wanted to kiss her. Even more shocking, she'd wanted him, too. “Okay. I hope you enjoy your time with Merry. You're right, I've got a list of apartments to call about and then check out.” She raised her eyebrows. “Then I'm going to unexpectedly drop in for a visit with Ann Hawkins.” She lifted her hand. “See you later, Jim.”

As she scooted out of the car, Ellen felt deeply for him. Even mentioning his little girl's name made his eyes lighten with love. As she closed the door and turned toward the hotel, she found herself wanting him to look at her the same way.

 

A
NN
H
AWKINS'S FACE
mirrored surprise and then shock when she opened the door to Ellen.

“Hi, Lieutenant Hawkins. May I come in? I've got a few more questions that need to be answered.” Ellen saw the redness around the woman's eyes and knew that she had been crying.

“Well, I guess.” Ann hesitated. “Come on in.”

“I know this is an awkward time,” Ellen said as she entered the foyer of the apartment. “I appreciate your letting me in.”

After shutting the door, Ann ushered her into a small,
cozy living room filled with Japanese black lacquered bamboo furniture. “I thought the investigation was over,” she said, gesturing for Ellen to sit on the beige-and-green couch.

Ellen eased onto the sofa. “We're still collecting evidence.” She opened her briefcase and took out her notepad and tape recorder. “You went with Susan to the Ares Conference, didn't you?”

Ann became more guarded. “Yes. Why?”

“Well, aside from dealing with some of the squadron boys, the Ares Conference is another logical place to investigate.” Ellen wouldn't mention the photos or the file they'd gotten from Susan's condo. At least, not yet.

Ann stood, folded her arms across her chest and paced the length of the room. “I don't know anything,” she said in a clipped tone.

Ellen sensed the woman's mounting nervousness and decided to pull back a little in her questioning. “Can you go over the last phone conversation you had with Susan before she died?”

Whirling around, Ann snapped, “I don't want to talk about anything, Agent Tanner. It's too much. I—I'm too upset!”

Ellen set aside her notes and shut off the tape recorder. She stood, her gaze locked with Ann Hawkins's tear-filled eyes. “Something happened, didn't it, Ann?” Ellen softened her voice. “Susan was a very unique woman. You were her best friend, her confidante. What
aren't you telling us? You know her father is blaming Susan and calling her a coward for taking her own life. I think you can help us. Please?”

Tears streamed down Ann's taut face as she pulled her arms tighter around herself. “I just can't,” she cried. “If I do, I'm the one who will suffer.”

“How's that?” Ellen whispered.

“My career! I lied to you in that interview. I panicked because I was afraid of getting in trouble.”

“Ann, if you love Susan, and I know you do, I think you'll take the high ground on this investigation. Would Susan have lied to us about you to protect herself?”

Shaken, Ann looked away and her shoulders drooped.

The tension was palpable between the two women. Ann seemed to struggle against a barrage of emotions. Ellen waited, allowing the silence and pressure to build.

“Would you turn off that thing?” Ann gestured angrily toward the tape recorder.

“I already have.” Ellen showed her the machine.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her anger seeming to dissolve. “Susan called me the night she died.” Wiping tears away with trembling fingers, she continued, “Only, I wasn't home. Oh, God, I wish I'd been here for her. I'm sure I could have stopped her.” Ann covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

Ellen put her arm around the woman's waist and led her to the couch. “Come on, sit down,” she coaxed. Once she located a box of tissues nearby, she handed several to her.

“Th-thanks.” Blotting her red eyes, Ann whispered in a choked tone, “Susan's message was on my phone recorder when I got home at 0300.” Blowing her nose, she added, “When I heard her voice, I went into shock.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I'm so ashamed of myself—of what I did.”

Ellen's fingers tightened on the woman's shoulder. “What did you do?”

“I was a real coward.” Ann's lower lip trembled. “I was afraid for my career, so I drove to the nearby convenience store and stopped at a pay phone. I didn't want the call to be traced to my apartment, in case something happened.”

“I see.”

Raising her head, Ann said in a raw voice, “I made that 911 call to the La Mesa Police Department. Then I drove over to Susan's. The police were already there. I didn't stay long because I knew the worst had happened. I don't know how I got home, I was crying so hard. I was so worried, so ashamed of myself, my cowardice.”

“You did what you felt was right,” Ellen said consolingly.

“It was too late, too late.”

“Do you still have that tape?” Ellen asked, holding her breath in anticipation.

Ann dabbed at her eyes. “Yes, I have the tape. I—I should have told you before.” She gazed miserably at Ellen. “I'm not the friend Susan thought I was. But it
really doesn't matter, does it? I lied to an investigator and I'll pay the price. I didn't help Susan when she needed me the most.”

 

T
HE DOORBELL KEPT RINGING
. With notes and legal papers strewn across his belly, Cochrane had fallen asleep on his couch. The doorbell jerked him awake, and when he sat up, the notes fluttered all over the polished white pine deck. He rubbed his face and looked at his watch: 2330. Who the hell was at his door at this time of night? Disgruntled, he got to his feet.

“Hold your horses! I'm coming, I'm coming,” he yelled down the passageway. Pushing strands of hair off his forehead, he jerked the door open. Ellen Tanner stood there, her face flushed, her eyes bright with anticipation.

“Do you know what time it is?” he asked thickly, though he was glad to see her.

“Yes,” she said excitedly, “I do.” She brushed past Cochrane. “You've got to hear this, Jim!” She dug into her briefcase and produced a small cassette tape. “I went over to Ann Hawkins's place and we hit pay dirt.”

Frowning, Jim took the tape and rubbed his eyes. “What are you rattling on about?” Her cheeks were tinged with pink and her eyes were dancing. She was the last person he'd expected to see, but the one he most wanted to. He'd been feeling damn lonely tonight. Ellen filled his heart and made him hope again.

“Susan called Ann the night she died. She left a mes
sage on this tape. You've got to hear it, Jim! Right now! It's going to help us,” Ellen said breathlessly.

He turned and led her to his bedroom. The place was a mess, the bed unmade. He went to his dresser, where he pulled out a cassette tape player. “Let's mosey to the kitchen. This had better be good, Ellen. I was asleep,” he growled.

“I think you'll forgive me after you hear the tape.” In her eyes he looked like a disheveled, vulnerable little boy. Jim's eyes were puffy, his movements slow, his speech even more thickly accented than normal. Her heart opened widely, and all she wanted to do was throw her arms around him and hold him. What was it about Jim Cochrane?

“Don't count on it.” They sat down at the kitchen table, the only family heirloom Jim had begged from his parents. It was an old hand-hewn, maple table that he'd eaten all his meals on while growing up. Still groggy, he had trouble placing the tape into the recorder. Ellen shifted from foot to foot, obviously unable to contain her excitement.

Clicking the machine on, Jim turned up the volume.

“Ann? This is Susan. By the time you get this message, it will be all over. You're my best friend. I'm sorry, so sorry, but I can't go on like this. Jesus, I don't want to die, but I don't see any other way out of this. S-something horrible happened at Ares, you were right. Something was wrong with me, but I couldn't tell you. Not even you. I can't let it be found out. P-please forgive me.
We've been through so much together. Goodbye. Tell my brothers…tell them I love them. I'm such a coward at heart. A failure. I hope you can forgive me for what I've done. I hope all women can forgive me. Goodbye, dear friend…”

Jim's fatigue vanished. He sat there, stunned by the anguished last words of Susan Kane. Barely aware that Ellen had sat down at his elbow, he rewound the tape and played it again. This time, he took his pad and pencil and wrote down some of the phrases. After the second time, he shut off the machine and looked at Ellen. “Ann Hawkins had this tape all along?”

“Yes, and she was afraid to tell us about it.”

He sat there for a long minute, pondering the notes he'd written. “This is a nice piece of work, Ellen.”