Silent Witness (20 page)

“Conversely, if she was forced into the situation and was being blackmailed, she
would
hide it,” Jim speculated.

“I know,” Ellen whispered unhappily, tapping the side of her head with her index finger. “A child's book, of all things. And at work. I think Susan would be fearful of having it discovered there. She was so careful with her image at Top Gun. Why on
earth
would she put the photo in her office?”

“Well,” Jim said, “one thread is consistent.”

“What?”

“Susan and her bears. She put the photo in a bear book—”

“Oh, my God! Jim!” Ellen shot to her feet. “That's the other clue!”

Jim raised his head and frowned. “What clue?”

“I've got it!” she shrieked excitedly, turning to him and waving her hands. “That's it! The teddy bear!”

He growled, “You're not making any sense, gal.”

Grabbing the evidence sack and setting it on her desk, Ellen said, “Yes, I am! Don't you see? Susan's teddy bear. The one in your dream. This morning, before I drove to the office, I dropped over to La Mesa's police department and talked with Detective Gardella. They had the teddy bear and Susan's mother's photo in their evidence locker. Eventually, at the conclusion of the case, it would've been sent to Robert Kane. I couldn't stand to have him burn or destroy them. We'd promised the teddy bear would go to Tommy after the investigation, so I brought it with me this morning. I was going to send it to him as soon as Susan's case was closed.”

“Okay…” Jim said, not understanding her sudden enthusiasm.

“Oh, Jim, the dream! Remember your dream? The bear's just been sitting there waiting for us to ask!”

“It can't talk.”

“Not talk, but see! We've got to get the bear's eyes tested for fingerprints.” She saw him scowl. “Don't you get it? There could be fingerprints on those plastic eyes!”

Jim threw his hands up and shook his head. “Gal, I
reckon you've lost it. There aren't going to be any fingerprints. It's fake fur.”

“Jim, the eyes are large, shiny buttons. Please,” Ellen said breathlessly. “I just
know
there are prints on one of them! The bear ties to your dream, too. Susan handed you her bear with
no eyes
in its head. Remember?”

“Hell, woman, leave my stupid dream out of this conversation. It meant nothing—nothing,” he muttered irritably, looking around his desk.

“Jim, I know you're tired and sleep deprived, but humor me on this request, please?”

“This is harebrained, Ellen. You're knocking around like a blind hound dog in a meat house.”

“Maybe,” she said excitedly, “but maybe not. Susan was holding that bear in her arms when she died. It ought to be tested for fingerprints, but for anything else as well—like a human hair or whatever else could be clinging to it.”

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, “I figure if I humor you, I'll get more work done much sooner. I don't know what the hell all this bear stuff is going to prove.”

“Just have the lab dust for fingerprints, for starters. This makes so much sense to me. Don't you see?”

“I'm as tired as a rutting tomcat after an all-night prowl through a neighborhood of female cats in heat. This is bad timing.”

Ellen reached out and patted his shoulder. “Thanks for humoring me.”

“I just think you're feeling guilty about smudging the fingerprint on that photo,” he said defiantly.

Ellen shook her head. “Jim, you stick to being an attorney and I'll stick to being a therapist, okay?”

July 13

“C
OCHRANE SPEAKING
….”

“It's Ellen. Listen—”

“I'm asleep….”

“I'm sorry. I know how late it is, but this is important.” Ellen heard him slurring other words she couldn't understand. His Missouri twang was most pronounced when he was sleepy, she discovered.

“Geez, it's after midnight. What's this flap-doodle all about?”

Holding the phone more tightly, she said, “Listen to me, will you? I just got a fax from Chief Hazzard from the forensic lab. Remember how we took the bear over to him to be dusted for fingerprints? You'll never guess whose print is on the bear's eye!”

“What? Hold on, I'm not awake, gal. Slow down and speak clearly. You're blitherin' on like a fool…”

“The only fool is at your end of this line!” she yelled into the phone. “Wake up, Jim! This is
important!
”
Lowering her voice, she rasped, “The fingerprint on the bear's eye belongs to Commander Brad Kane!”

Ellen waited for a response. She pulled the phone away from her ear, looked at it, wondered if it was working and then listened again. “Jim? Are you there? Did you fall back asleep on me?”

“What print are you talkin' about?”

“Chief Hazzard found a fingerprint on the bear's right eye. He checked it against the four names you supplied for comparison to the partial print on Susan's photo. Brad Kane was a match to the print taken off the bear's eye.”

“Brad Kane?” he repeated thickly.

“Yes,” she said triumphantly. “Of all people, I never expected
his
print on it.”

“Hold on….”

She heard a bed creaking, then a groan. Ellen assumed Cochrane was finally sitting up. Impatiently, she asked, “Remember Ann said Brad hadn't seen Susan for two years? If so, those prints wouldn't be on there at all. He
had
to be there. How else could you explain her brother's fingerprint on Susan's bear? Something's not right here.”

“Slow down, gal. You're worse than a broken down nag who thinks she can win at a county horse race.”

“I'll take that as a compliment, Jim. It had better be one.”

“Okay, okay. Just creep along, will you? I don't think well the first hour after I get blasted out of bed.”

“We didn't think to check if Brad or Tommy Kane were on their carriers around the time Susan took her life. We do know from Susan's attempt to reach him through the Red Cross that Tommy was supposedly aboard his. I'll check tomorrow morning on Brad. What if he was in San Diego at the time of Susan's death?”

“Yeah, right. Those are good questions, gal. Makes me wonder if it really was suicide, after all.” He yawned. “Look, I'm whipped. Let me go back to sleep. We'll follow up on these leads come Monday, okay?”

Disappointed, Ellen said, “I think we ought to postpone Lieutenant Commander Hodges's interview until we get this other information, don't you?”

“We can't do that in the middle of the night. Besides, we've already postponed Hodges's interview. Our next one starts at 1030 hours on Monday, and that's with Lieutenant Parker Davis. We'll just check first thing then. We should be able to do that and still make the scheduled interviews, including Hodges's Monday afternoon.”

Ellen heard Jim yawn again. “I know it's the weekend,” she sighed. “I've got redecorating to do in my new apartment and you have family things lined up.”

“There's not much we can accomplish on a weekend, gal. Now, let's get some shut-eye. I'll see you Monday morning bright and early.”

Ellen biting back her frustration. “Good night, Jim.” She hung up the phone. Well, what did she expect? Cochrane had been up all night.

July 16

C
OCHRANE ENTERED
their office Monday morning at 0730 to find Ellen sitting at her desk. Her orange and yellow outfit nearly blinded him, but the excitement in her eyes lifted his spirits. His heart swelled. He felt like the most blessed man in the world, to come to the office and have such a beautiful woman waiting. He saw the warm welcome in her eyes, too.

“You're gonna hit me with a pile of stuff before I've even had my coffee,” he complained, taking off his hat and carefully putting it on the coat hook.

“No, I'm not,” Ellen said archly as she stood. “Here, it's a mocha latte, Jim. Drink it. I guarantee it's like getting a jolt of caffeine directly into your bloodstream.”

He eyed the paper cup on his desk. “Whipped cream?”

“Are you complaining again, Mr. Cochrane? How often do you get a free latte at 0730?” She gave him a teasing look. “It's basically coffee! Stop eyeing it like it's going to kill you.”

“Hmmph,” he said, sitting down and taking a sip. “This is too fancy to be called coffee.” His heart filled with joy at seeing her again. He had spent his weekend with Merry at his apartment. He always looked forward to time with his little girl. Every moment with his daughter was special. And it was becoming evident that each moment with Ellen was special, too.

“I suppose it is fancy,” she said. “You're partial to hill folk coffee.”

As he sipped his latte Cochrane riffled through a pile of phone messages. “My ma makes the best coffee in the world. She has a patch of chicory she tends. Plus she goes once a month to buy coffee beans at Hiram's General Store down in Raven Holler.”

Ellen smiled. “I've never tasted chicory in coffee.”

“Go to New Orleans. That comes closest to my ma's coffee.”

“Well, that latte doesn't have vanilla or chicory,” she grumped good-naturedly. Seeing him made her feel good. This morning, he looked wide-awake, with no dark circles under his eyes or redness. In fact, he looked damn handsome. She absorbed his silly grin, knowing his high spirits came from spending time with Merry. Ellen was so happy for him and his daughter. Divorce was such a painful thing.

“It don't taste too bad,” he said, surprised. He sipped again. “Thanks for the thought, even if you had ulterior motives. I know this is a peace offering for waking this poor hill boy up late Friday night.” He chuckled perversely.

Ellen's brows shot up. “It's true I felt bad about waking you out of a dead sleep.”

“From the look on your face, you've got some more info on Brad Kane and you wanted me wide awake to listen to your latest discovery.”

Ellen touched her reddening cheeks. “You don't miss much, do you?”

His grin widened wickedly as he polished off the rest
of the latte and tossed the cup into his wastebasket. “Not much, gal. Now that I'm sufficiently awake, what do you have on Bad Boy Brad?”

She passed him a printed report. “According to the records on board Brad's carrier, the
John C. Stennis,
he left for unexpected emergency leave
two days
before Susan's death. He arrived back on the carrier just in time to be told to take off again—that his sister had died and he was granted emergency leave to attend her funeral.”

“Hmm,” Cochrane said, studying the report intently. “The original reason for the original leave is stated simply as ‘family emergency.' Susan was that family emergency?”

“Had to be. Why else would Brad have been let go?”

“That's true. Emergency leave isn't just handed out like candy in the military. You had better damn well have an emergency, or else.”

“Why didn't Brad tell us about seeing Susan, then?” Ellen wondered.

“Good question. My first hunch is the good ole boy system is at work again. And we didn't ask Brad if he was on board his carrier two days before Susan's death, so he wasn't going to volunteer that information.”

“But why?” Ellen demanded in a frustrated tone.

“We'll find out.” Jim rubbed his hands together. “The plot thickens, like my ma's vanilla pudding.”

“I have a feeling this interview with Hodges this afternoon isn't going to be very appetizing, either.”

Cochrane grimaced. “Since we delayed his inter
view, it might put some serious pressure on him and he'll spill the beans. Maybe…”

Glumly, Ellen nodded. “I didn't get a good feeling about him from his personnel file.”

“You and your vibes. They won't stand up in any court of law, Ellen,” Cochrane sighed.

“Hodges was mighty unhappy about the Ares Conference interview in the first place, and liked it even less when I rescheduled him once again. He gave me a lot of grief about it.”

“Hodges is a sourpuss. Unless we get some miracle information out of this morning's interviews, the bastard will probably skate through without our laying a glove on him.”

“I understand through Yeoman Camden that Hodges is bringing along an attorney,” Ellen said.

Snorting, Cochrane sat up, elbows on his desk. “Barring some surprise from Hodges, we've got as much chance as a grasshopper in a chicken house full of hungry hens of nailing him.”

Ellen giggled. “What did I ever do until you walked into my life, Jim? I never realized hill folk had such a rich subculture. All those sayings and ways of looking at the world…”

“Stick around, gal, and some of it might rub off.”

“That's what I'm afraid of. But I'd like to stick around, anyway.”

Picking up the phone, Jim saw the smile on her face. “Music to my ears. You know, Hodges is an arrogant
jock.” He gave her a wolfish grin. “It'll be mighty interesting to see how he sits in this stew pot. This afternoon, we may have to implement my world-famous Plan B. If we play this right, we might get another puzzle piece. Or, Hodges could tuck that puzzle box under his arm and walk away from us,” he growled.

July 16

L
IEUTENANT
C
OMMANDER
Hodges came in at exactly 1300, dressed in his summer white uniform. Cochrane curbed a smile as he surveyed the man. Ribbons representing every medal Hodges owned decorated the left side of his powerful chest. His dark blue eyes were intense, and his thin, weasel-like face was taut with tension. At his side was his expensively attired lawyer, Walter Rapaport, a well-known San Diego military criminal lawyer with whom Jim had sparred on several other cases involving Navy or Marine Corps personnel.

Rapaport was like a fox to Hodges's weasel. The dapper attorney had sharp darting eyes and a quick way of talking. This man could manipulate the truth to serve his client. And in keeping with his background as an ex-JAG attorney, his military bearing was impeccable. Cochrane wasn't sure which man had his shoulders thrown back more, Hodges or Rapaport.

The men shared one other trait: hyperactive, quick movements.

Cochrane respected Rapaport. He didn't respect
Hodges. There were differences between foxes and weasels, and Hodges had an innately sneaky air that seemed to ooze out of him no matter how hard he tried to hide behind his Navy uniform.

“Ya'll have a seat for this little chat, gentlemen,” Cochrane drawled in his best Missouri accent. He gestured magnanimously to the two chairs directly in front of him and Ellen. She sat to his left, poised and ready with many reports.

“This is a waste of my valuable time, Mr. Cochrane,” Hodges snarled, dropping his expensive cowhide briefcase on the table next to his seat.

“Why, Commander, I think you'd complain if you were hanged with a new rope,” Cochrane said, offering him a wolfish grin. Screw Hodges. Jim wasn't taking his crap lying down. Rapaport started to smile, then glanced at his angry client and seemed to reconsider.

As Cochrane introduced Ellen to the unflappable attorney, he watched the expression on her face. She unconsciously sat back in her chair, as if threatened by Rapaport's foxlike smile. Chuckling to himself, Jim rummaged through his notes and questions. This time, he was going to take that proverbial new rope he'd joked about and tighten it around Hodges's neck. Would the officer break? The bastard was up for commander and wasn't about to spoil his chances by having anything too substantial turn up in this investigation. So this time Jim would have to resort to sub
terfuge—of a sort. The question was would Hodges fall for it, hook, line and sinker? A fish had to be caught before it was landed.