Silent Witness (14 page)

“What the hell!” Michelson exclaimed. “My personal life is my own, not part of this damn investigation!”

“It becomes part of the investigation when a photo
shows you and a prostitute, Penny Anderson, going to your room on Saturday evening, Lieutenant.”

Michelson gurgled and choked.

“My client's private life is not up for examination,” Baden warned darkly.

“It's not his private life we're discussing,” Jim retorted. “We're attempting to take the lieutenant's statement on his activities at the Ares Conference. With identification of the people in these photos or eyewitness accounts, Mr. Baden, all I have to do is type in Lieutenant Michelson's name and any report that concerns him comes up at my fingertips. Which is what I'm going to do right now.” He lifted his hands and rested his fingertips on the keyboard, taking his time to type in the officer's name.

“While he's doing that,” Ellen said softly, “I'd like to ask Lieutenant Michelson if he ever saw Lieutenant Susan Kane at the conference.”

Michelson wiped his brow, dividing his attention between Cochrane's printer and Ellen. “I—don't know. I don't remember.”

Ellen smiled gently. “She was at the same seminar at the end of the day as you were, Lieutenant.”

“It was a crowded room, Agent Tanner. I don't remember seeing her.”

“Oh?” Ellen rolled the pen between her thumb and forefinger, studying it for a long moment, letting Michelson squirm. “That's odd, because an eyewitness placed you with her shortly after the seminar broke up
for the day. She was also on the list of people to attend that sat-com talk.”

“I don't recall.”

“I see….” Ellen glanced at Cochrane, who was still busy punching in information. Michelson was sweating heavily, and she could see dark splotches appearing beneath each arm of his flight suit. “What did you think of Susan Kane?”

Michelson gave her a startled look. “Pardon?”

“What was your personal opinion of Lieutenant Kane?”

“She was an excellent instructor here at the station and a good pilot.”

“Is that all?”

He scowled. “What else is there to say?”

“Well, how did you feel about her personally?”

“I don't have a personal opinion of her.”

Ellen could see the man was lying so decided to probe further. “Why not?”

“I just don't.”

“Did you get along with her here at Top Gun?”

“She did her job and I did mine.”

“Did she ever go over to the O Club with you after work?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Michelson struggled. “Kane wasn't one of us, Agent Tanner.”

“What does that mean?”

“I'd think it was obvious what it means,” he retorted.

“Humor me, Lieutenant. I'm a civilian. Can you be more precise?”

“Kane was a woman. She wasn't one of us.”

“Oh? She was an aviator and an instructor just like you.”

“You don't get it. It isn't politically correct to say in today's environment, but no woman will
ever
be a part of a fighter squadron.” His voice lowered to a snarl. “I don't care if she wears gold wings or not.”

Ellen raised her brows slightly. “How do you feel about women in general being Naval aviators, Lieutenant?” She felt her temper rising. Gripping the pen in her fingers, she barely kept the anger out of her tone.

“Again, I know this isn't PC, and this is my personal opinion. I don't believe women should be taking a combat billet. To be perfectly frank, I'd rather see them in my bed than taking my jet away from me. You can get killed flying a combat aircraft. Only men should die in a war, not women.”

Ellen nodded and tapped the pen deliberately on the notepad. “According to this fourth report, you were in the Leopard Radar Corporation suite on Saturday, May 16th, around 2200 when they had a stripper come in and dance for the boys. She accuses you of groping and pinching her while she tried to dance. Then you allegedly hauled her down on the deck and forced her on her back with at least a hundred other civilians and a few aviators yelling and screaming at you to screw her in front of everyone.”

“I want to know who the hell is accusing me of those kinds of things!”

Jim interceded. “I reckon the names will stay with us until we decide whether or not there are reasonable grounds for a court-martial, Lieutenant. At that point, your attorney will be sent the names because we'd call them to testify.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Michelson gave his lawyer a pleading look.

Baden stirred. “Really, Lieutenant Cochrane, this is all hearsay. As for these prostitutes, well, who's going to take their word over that of a fine young Naval officer? As I stated earlier, they are not very credible witnesses and I think you know that.”

“The security guard is credible,” Cochrane snapped, pointing to the reports. “And his record of Mr. Michelson escorting Ms. Penny Anderson from the hotel are facts.”

Baden smiled sourly. “My client stated he went to his room. If he was propositioned by a prostitute on the way to his room, he did not accept her offer, nor does he recall anything later in the evening in question. Does the security officer mention my client by name or merely the lady in question?”

Cochrane smiled slightly, all the while holding Michelson's wild-eyed gaze. The pilot was in a full sweat. He squirmed in the chair, barely able to maintain eye contact. “They're lies,” he charged angrily.

“Would you like to change your story about either
Friday or Saturday evening, Lieutenant Michelson?” Cochrane asked.

“I have nothing to say.”

Baden leaned forward, his expression intense. “Lieutenant Cochrane, if you have evidence…”

Jim shifted his gaze to the sweating officer. “Lieutenant, we have eyewitness accounts and photos to back up everything we've asked you about in this interview. I hope you understand the Navy term ‘deep shit.'”

The interview was terminated after Michelson continued not to recall anything. That was fine, because Jim had the photo proof that said otherwise. And for once, he felt confident he could eventually help Susan Kane rest in peace.

 

“W
ELL
?” Ellen said wearily as they wrapped up their interviews. “What's our score so far?” They'd questioned three pilots that morning, and though it was barely noon she was ready to call it a day.

Cochrane put the laptop back in its black nylon case. “Pilots zip, us zip. No one threw himself on his sword and confessed.”

“With all the information we had on Michelson I thought he was going to break.”

“I was hoping he would, but he didn't. He's like a tough old boar—hard to kill even with a shot directly to the head.”

Ellen stood and made sure they left nothing of consequence behind. “Michelson's more like a cat, if you
ask me. He used up eight of his nine lives today, and he's still going. Even with an eyewitness, he has the gall to lie. He's supposed to be a Navy officer.”

“Michelson is not going to hurt his father, who is an admiral. He'll lie to protect his family tree and the military dynasty he sprang from. What's truth got to do with it?” Cochrane hefted the computer by the strap and placed it over his shoulder, then picked up his bulging briefcase. “Just because you're a Navy officer doesn't mean you're an officer and a gentleman,” he told her as they walked down the passageway.

Ellen gazed longingly at the afternoon sunlight slanting through the open windows. In the distance, she heard jets taking off. “Fraternity?”

“Yeah, it's called the Brotherhood. They don't rat on one another, regardless of what their rank is.”

“Even if they've done something wrong?” she asked, glad to leave Ops behind and feel the warmth of the sun. A breeze lifted several strands of her hair.

“Sure, it's believed ‘the system' can fix itself from within.”

“Obviously that isn't true. What kind of role models do they think they are if they'll lie, cheat or stonewall to protect one of their members who's guilty of something?”

“Reckon that's part of their lesson. Officers aren't gods, nor are they automatically good role models. There might have been twenty or so military men involved in the extreme behavior at Ares. Most of the at
tendees were unidentified civilians. Those twenty bad apples are hardly representative of Navy officers in general.” Cochrane stopped at the car and unlocked it.

“Doesn't it sadden you?” Ellen asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

Cochrane got in and buckled up. “The men in my family were all in the Navy, and I was taught to be proud of that fact.” He put the key into the ignition. “Hell of a lapse between idealism and reality, isn't it?”

As they drove away, Ellen shook her head. “Michelson was lying through his teeth. It was so obvious. And Baden sat there like his client wasn't guilty at all.”

“That's his job—to defend his client against all accusations. I'm sure Michelson hasn't told Baden everything,” Jim said.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Ellen gazed at the tall, stately palms lining the avenue. Giddings was a large, sprawling station very close to the freeway. “I thought you were supposed to tell your attorney everything.”

Chuckling, Cochrane said, “Well, in a naval aviator's world and realm, blood is thicker than water. Baden may be his attorney, but he's not part of the air community. In fact, Baden may not want to know all the details, so he can't be responsible if Michelson is lying.”

“This whole legal system is sick,” she muttered as she looked out the window.

Cochrane turned onto the freeway, “It reads ‘inno
cent until proven guilty in a court of law.' Let's find that Red Cross office and see what Susan Kane's phone call was all about, shall we?”

Ellen shrugged. “I hope the Red Cross is more forthcoming than Michelson was.”

“I reckon they'll do everything they can to help us. They can't have as many things to hide as Michelson does. That poor bumpkin was like an amateur magician with all his cards falling out of his sleeves.”

“M
AY
I
HELP YOU
?” A white-haired woman in her sixties with gold-framed glasses sat expectantly at the reception desk of the Red Cross.

Cochrane removed his hat and tucked it beneath his left arm. “Yes, ma'am,” and went on to explain why they needed to talk to a supervisor.

“Of course,” the woman said, picking up the phone. “I'll tell Ms. Ebsen, Lieutenant.”

Within five minutes, they were ushered into Madeline Ebsen's office, a small, pale pink room filled with healthy green plants. After taking a seat, Cochrane pulled out the information given to them by the phone company. Ms. Ebsen, a trim and elegant woman in her midfifties, took the piece of paper he handed her and read it quickly.

“You're in luck, Lieutenant Cochrane. Linda Farmer, who took the message, is still on duty. If you'll wait here, I'll go see if she remembers anything about that call. In the meantime, I'll have my assistant locate those records and bring them to my office.”

The wait was short. Linda Farmer entered the of
fice and reviewed the phone records brought by the assistant.

“Oh…” Linda said with a sad smile, “I remember this call, Maddy.” She glanced at Cochrane. “The woman said her name was Lieutenant Susan Kane, and she seemed intoxicated.”

“Intoxicated?” Cochrane said.

“Yes. I remembered the call because she slurred her words so badly and took forever to put a sentence together. When I sat down at my computer, she hung up.”

“Why?” Cochrane demanded.

Ms. Ebsen went over to the computer and sat down. “Wait a moment. Let me retrieve that file.” She quickly typed in the name Kane, and all the information popped up on the monitor.

Cochrane and Ellen got up and leaned over her shoulders. “Yes, this is her. She was slurring her words.”

“Who was the message to?” he asked.

“Umm, wait. Ah, here it is—Tommy.”

Ellen looked up, shock bolting through her. “Tommy…”

Cochrane knelt down beside the Red Cross volunteer to get a better look at the monitor. “What was the message?”

Linda Farmer sighed. “That's just it, Lieutenant. There was none. I must have spent ten minutes on the phone with her and she became increasingly incoherent. I couldn't understand her, so I made her spell out the words, and even then I couldn't grasp all she was
saying. I couldn't find out who Tommy was or where he was located.”

“Why did she hang up?” Ellen asked.

“I think it was too much for the poor dear,” Linda Farmer said. “She struggled so hard to get the first part of what I needed for the message that I think she just gave up. Her voice was getting weaker.”

“What did she say?” Jim asked.

“That she wanted to contact her brother.”

Ellen pursed her lips. “Did she say anything about the emergency?”

“No, she didn't. I was just getting to the body of the message when she suddenly hung up. She'd refused to give me her phone number, so I couldn't recontact her. Caller ID was blocked.”

“Dadgum,” Cochrane muttered, standing up. He glanced at Ellen, who also looked defeated. “Can you give us a copy of your report?”

“Of course.” Ms. Ebsen hit the print button. In moments, the record appeared. She tore it off and handed it to him.

“You don't remember anything else she said?” Cochrane asked.

“No, not really,” Linda Farmer said. “Fortunately, everything that is said is written down and kept in the computer. I do hope this situation wasn't too serious.”

“Susan Kane is dead,” Cochrane told them. “That's why I'd like you to try and remember anything else you can recall.”

“Oh, dear,” Linda Farmer murmured apologetically, “I didn't know. I'm very sorry. She seemed like such a confused young woman. It was so hard to talk to her.” Linda tapped her chin in thought. “I do recall that she said she loved Tommy very much, and he was the only one who could help her.”

“With what?”

Linda shook her head. “I don't know, Lieutenant.”

“If you think of anything else, ma'am, give me a call at the office?” He handed her his business card.

“Of course I will. This is all so sad….”

 

E
LLEN CAUGHT UP WITH
Cochrane out in the parking lot. “So close and yet so far away, huh?” Their hands brushed as they walked. To her surprise, Jim quickly wrapped his fingers around hers and gave them a quick squeeze. Then he released her hand.

“Okay with that?” he asked, smiling down at her. This investigation on Susan Kane was eating a hole in him, but Ellen's presence helped salve it. He hadn't planned to touch her—it just happened. When he saw her eyes go wide with surprise, he had to make sure it was okay. Holding his breath, he waited for her answer.

“I'm okay with it, Jim,” Ellen answered softly. And she was. Seeing the look in his gray eyes, that banked warmth directed at her, she felt herself lighten up from the heaviness of the investigation. “You pick me up just when I need it. This business with death gets to me a lot more than I'd like to admit.”

“I didn't want to overstep any bounds with you,” he said huskily. “You need to keep telling me what is or is not appropriate toward you, Ellen.”

She brushed some curls off her face. “I can do that. But it works both ways, Jim.”

Nodding, he said, “I know.” He took a deep breath. “The truth is, gal, you shed sunshine in the darkness of my life. The last two years have been a special hell for me. When you dropped into my world, I thought it was bad news, but now I can see I was wrong.”

“Well,” Ellen whispered, giving him an encouraging smile, “that's a wonderful revelation. I thought I was still a pain in your ass.”

“Far from that,” Jim said. He held out his hand to her as they walked. “Peace between us, pardner?”

She slipped her fingers into his strong ones. “Peace.”
And happiness. You make me happy, Jim.
Ellen bit back the words. “Whether you realize it or not, Jim, you make my days a joy. Before this, things were pretty dreary, gray and depressing. I didn't have anything to look forward to.”

He grinned and felt heat rising from his neck into his face. Good grief! He was blushing! Him! Unable to hold her earnest green gaze, Cochrane said, “That's good news, gal. I never thought I'd hear that from a woman again.”

“Hey, Mr. JAG officer. I look forward to waking up in the morning now. Before this assignment, I didn't. Even on your grouchy-old-bear days, it's still a plea
sure to work with you.” She met his startled gaze and smiled into his eyes.

“Gosh and by golly. Does that mean there's hope for us, gal?” His heart took off in flight as he saw her soft lips curve.

“I'm in it for the long haul, Jim. I'm not an overnighter, if you know what I mean.”

“Of course I do. And we're more alike than we probably realize. I don't do one-night stands, either. I do long term.”

“That's good to know,” Ellen breathed. She wanted to do more than hold his hand now. She wanted to kiss him until their mouths melted together as one. Somehow, Ellen knew Jim would be an incredible lover. He was sensitive, observant, and truly liked to please her. She had never imagined falling for someone so swiftly. She'd known Mark for over a year before she realized she was in love with him. Had his death changed her? Had she grown up and matured since then or was her attraction to Jim Cochrane that of a widow coming out of two years of grieving? Ellen wasn't sure. She didn't have all the answers, but she knew one thing: Jim appealed to her on every level. Giddy, Ellen felt her fears receding.

“I want you to know I won't allow our personal life to interfere in our work,” she told him.

“I know that,” Jim said, slowing his pace. “We just haven't had time to pursue anything personal. And Susan's case isn't going to free us up anytime soon.”

“This is a complex case,” Ellen agreed. “And I can wait until we have quality time, Jim. I'm okay with it.”

“Good.” He wasn't. He was positively itching to get his hands on Ellen, explore her and feel her come alive beneath his caresses.

“Right now, I'm trying to understand Susan's modus operandi,” Ellen said, getting back on a more professional topic. She wanted their personal conversation, the exploration, to continue, but realized it wasn't the right time.

“That's what most investigations are like,” Jim said. “Never any straight-to-the-heart clues, just ragged edges of puzzle pieces. Sort of like a hound following the tracks of a clever coon who's crisscrossing back and forth to make him lose the scent.”

“A crazy quilt being pieced together.” As she climbed into the car, Ellen said, “Based on the evidence, I think Susan only trusted Tommy in her family.”

Cochrane put on his seat belt and started the car. “Reckon so, but what was she trying to tell him before she died?”

“I wonder if Tommy realizes Susan tried to contact him?”

“Probably not, because the Red Cross didn't send the message. And Tommy said nothing to us. I think he's the only one of the three who was dirt honest in our interviews.”

“What was Susan going to tell Tommy? Or Ann?”

As he pulled out of the large asphalt parking lot, he
put on his aviator glasses to shield his eyes from the sinking sun. “Talk about liars, we have those interviews with the Top Guns coming up.”

“They're an interesting bunch, no doubt about it. And not all of them are liars. Just a few bad apples in there from what I can see so far.”

“Gordon Bassett is in the frying pan next. I'm curious to see what he says or recalls about Susan Kane.”

Ellen's nostrils flared. “I hope he's not like Lieutenant Michelson.”

“We'll see.” Jim chuckled. “Michelson didn't waste any positive feelings, did he?”

Ellen frowned. “No. It took everything in me to just sit there and not get angry over his Neanderthal philosophy about women being homemakers while boys make war.”

“I saw the anger in your eyes.”

“I hope it wasn't too obvious?”

“Like a fox licking her chops when she's got a hen in her den.” He grinned. “Michelson saw it, too. He had problems when you asked the questions.”

“Why?”

“Because you're a woman and a civilian. Michelson tried that ‘boys will be boys' stuff with you and it didn't work. He didn't know how to respond to you. And I think you got more out of him than I would have.” Cochrane slanted her a glance after he'd turned onto the freeway. “Come the morrow, I want you to interview Bassett.”

“With pleasure,” she assured him.

July 7

L
IEUTENANT
G
ORDON
B
ASSETT
, known as Gordie the Glacier by his squadron mates, had the appearance of a young college athlete. To Ellen he didn't look more than twenty-two—a freckle-faced, square-jawed kid with high color in his ruddy cheeks. She saw the errant strand of chestnut-colored hair dipping rebelliously across his broad, smooth brow. His mouth was full and impish, his brows thick and slightly arched across his large, penetrating brown eyes. In Ellen's opinion, he was the archetype poster boy for a college jock.

Bassett gave her a ten-thousand-megawatt smile as he entered their office.

Ellen kept a cool head though she was tempted to scowl. She wasn't fresh bait, and that was the gist of his flirting look, as if she were a painted doll in this drama. She saw Bassett give Cochrane a steadier look, no smile, his brows dipping to express his obvious dislike of the legal officer.

Bassett's lawyer was short and a little overweight, with a potbelly not disguised by his rumpled, dark blue, double-breasted suit. Ellen didn't like the lawyer's attitude or how his small hazel gaze flickered between her and Cochrane like a coyote checking out its enemies.

After asking the men to sit down, she introduced herself and Cochrane.

Bassett grinned at her. “Haven't I seen you around the O Club before?”

Ellen's scowl deepened. “Put a choke chain on it, Lieutenant.”

The man's smile slipped considerably. He nervously cleared his throat and glanced at his lawyer. “This is Harvey Goldman, my attorney.”

Cochrane shook Goldman's hand and so did Ellen.

“Okay, let me get through the prelims and then Agent Tanner will question you, Lieutenant Bassett,” Cochrane said.

Bassett's gaze snapped to Ellen briefly, sizing her up before he gave his full, undivided attention to the JAG.

Ellen couldn't keep feeling nervous. The way Bassett kept cutting his gaze in her direction was intimidating. The playful, flirtatious quality she'd seen before had been replaced with the studied coldness of a killer. She had to remind herself that all aviators were just that—paid to put their lives on the line, to kill or be killed.