Yellow Ribbons (13 page)

“What do I do?” she cried. “The major will ruin me. Kill me.”

“The major is dead. Found in his home yesterday morning.”

Relief slumped her farther in the chair. “Oh thank God.” She snapped upright. “I mean—”

Greg lifted his palm. “I know what you mean.”

“What happens now?” She tugged at her sleeves. “Am I in trouble?”

“I honestly don’t know. The detectives will want to verify your statement, maybe have you walk them through the scene.”

“What about the fraternization?”

Good question. “Well, clearly the word’s out.” Had it been only the two of them as Owens had requested, Greg might have been able to cover her ass. He knew the civilians wouldn’t care, Lani would obviously look the other way, but Jordan was too by the book and had his own career to watch out for. And there was the general’s decree. “Talking to one of the defense counsels at JAG about that would be a damn good idea.”

“Do I need a lawyer for this other?”

“Lance Corporal Owens, you left the scene of a double murder.”

A hint of anger flashed across her face. “I left in fear for my life.”

“And I suppose you could argue that point. I have no idea how the detectives will proceed. Under the circumstances, I would highly advise you to invoke your rights and ask for a public defender.”

“You’ll stay with me until one gets here?” Her little-girl whine grated on his nerves, but her underlying plea for help was loud and clear.

“I will.” If only to make sure the detectives didn’t convince her to go it alone.

Lani tried not to rub a sudden chill from her arms. The general was going to have a shit hemorrhage when he learned yet another member of their unit—two members—had been sexually fraternizing. She’d be lucky if she had a job by the end of the day. Poor Greg. He’d taken the lead in this task force to protect them and been shot down with the first volley. There wasn’t anything they could do to save Owens. Maybe they shouldn’t try. A sacrifice might wind up saving their own asses.

“Are you going to charge her for leaving the scene?” she asked Pattison.

He hadn’t left his perch on the table, his attention riveted to the monitor and every word and move from Owens. “I can’t see the point. She was in fear for her life. It’ll be up to the district attorney, though. Once the lawyer arrives and settles, we’ll need to go through her statement step-by-step, verify everything.”

“Frankly, I’m relieved.” Jordan crumpled the soda can in his fist and tossed it into the corner trashcan. “I was scared to death we had a serial killer targeting yellow ribbon houses.”

Pattison gave a halfhearted snort. “How in the hell did you manage to take that leap?”

“It was one of the two things both houses had in common; the other being dead PMO personnel. I spent most of the night researching the Internet and crime databases for any other crimes associated with yellow ribbons. Nine million yellow ribbon hits, two million of them related to sex, two-thirds of that related to crime because we use yellow tape to seal the scene.”

Juarez’s cackle was so loud, Lani expected Greg could hear it in the next room. “In other words, a waste of time. I can’t believe you dreamed up a serial killer rather than face the reality this was a love affair gone awry.”

Jordan whirled around on the other man, anger twisting his face. At the same time, she and Pattison put themselves between him and Juarez.

“Stand down.” She lightly pressed Jordan’s shoulder. He didn’t budge.

“I didn’t dream up anything.” He stabbed his finger at Juarez. “I was thinking of all possibilities. It’s called detective work, asshole.”

Juarez muscled his way past Pattison. “Then think of this possibility…” He gestured wildly, nearly clipping Lani’s cheek. “Your girl in there ain’t lily white.”

The door opened behind her. “Problem?” Greg slipped into the middle of things with such ease, Lani doubted no one noticed but her. A touch to her elbow asked her to move away. That subtle
I’ve got this
.

“Damn straight,” Juarez shouted, then bore down on Jordan again. Greg blocked his way.

“How do you know she wasn’t in on this with Kenyon?” Juarez stabbed his finger toward Jordan. “Maybe Tipton and Whittaker were knocking boots on the side, and Kenyon and Owens got jealous. Maybe Tipton and Whittaker were going to take off, and Tipton tried to stop them. Maybe your little lance corporal saw or did it all and realized she had the perfect opportunity to off a man who could ruin her career. With Kenyon drunk, how difficult would it have been for her to slip him a lethal dose of sleeping pills?”

“And that’s more plausible than a serial killer?” Jordan’s voice came up two octaves.

Juarez looked up. His lips moved with his silent count of the ceiling tiles. “Look,” he finally said, “you all accuse me of not looking outside the box. Maybe you’re looking
too
far outside it. I screwed up at the first murder scene. I have no excuse. I saw what I wanted to see and jumped to conclusions. Is that really what you want to do with Kenyon’s death? Suicide? I made that leap with Tipton and was wrong. I’m not saying that slip of a girl was capable of killing Tipton and Whittaker, but she did have motive for wanting Kenyon gone and the opportunity to do so.”

“I don’t believe it.” Jordan jerked his head toward the room where Owens sat. “She had no idea Major Kenyon was dead.”

Juarez’s sad eyes focused on Greg alone. “People lie, especially those with a reason to do so. Something doesn’t fit. I’m going to figure out what it is.”

“God help us all,” Pattison groaned.

Juarez’s glare didn’t make it over his shoulder. He straightened his tie and walked out without another word.

“I’d try to rein him in if I thought it’d do any good.” Pattison returned to his spot on the table and rubbed at his forehead.

“I don’t know.” Jordan stared into space. “He has a point. Something
doesn’t
fit.”

Lani hated to admit that. God knew there was no love lost between her and Juarez, and he generally sucked as a detective. But he might be onto something here. Owens made no apparent attempt to call . For being so afraid and trusting Greg as much as she claimed, Owens never once tried to contact him until the deputies brought her in. She was a friendly, outgoing woman, always on the go, and for the last twenty-four hours, she’d presumably gone off the grid. Hiding in her house—again presumably—in fear for her life with Tipton’s car in her driveway, making a clear target of herself. Why not run? Why not go to Palm Springs or Vegas or hold out at a hotel?

“She’s lying,” Lani and Greg said at the same time.

“Or at the very least, not telling the whole truth,” Lani added.

“She sure as hell is.” Pattison traced his thumb over his nails, testing his impromptu manicure. “She says she saw Kenyon leave. I checked the area, same as the rest of you, and no trail stood out.”

“Then maybe we need to check again,” Jordan said.

Pattison’s mouth tightened. He folded his hands on his thighs and lifted cold eyes to Jordan. “Perhaps we should.”

Tension ratcheted in the room. The silent battle of wills crackled over Lani’s skin.

“It never hurts to double-check, especially in a case where the information is piecemeal and twisted into so many possibilities.” Greg’s tone dissipated the mounting testosterone. “We’re all over Juarez to be diligent; we can expect no less than that of ourselves.”

No one responded. Instead they looked at the young woman huddled in the other room. Owens rested her head on the table, her arms clutched around her midriff, her legs finally still. A wince scrunched her face. That telltale sign any woman would recognize. But this pain was well beyond monthly cramps.

“I think I know the real reason she’s been locked up in her house. Time for a little woman-to-woman. Off the record, of course.”

No one tried to stop Lani when she went into the interview room. Owens lifted bleary eyes her way when Lani sat across from her, then started to stand.

“As you were, Lance Corporal.”

Owens stayed seated. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“I’m going to cut right to the chase, Lance Corporal Owens.” They’d had a long enough night, and if what Lani suspected was true, Christina Owens was better off in bed, preferably one in a hospital. “Regina Whittaker wasn’t the only one scheduled to have an abortion that night, was she?”

Owens shook her head. Tears that had pooled in her eyes ran to the edges of her cheeks. “No, ma’am.”

“You’re going to need to provide the name and address of the place where you had the procedure.”

“Alibi?”

“Yes. Did you see Major Kenyon leave the Whittaker house?”

“Yes, ma’am. All the rest is true. I saw him arrive. He was hiding in the rosemary bushes next to the house. I knew we weren’t going to be leaving anytime soon. I waited and waited. Then he came out carrying his sneakers, and I knew what had gone down. I got out of there. I had to keep this appointment. It was the only one I could get before it was too late.”

“Why didn’t you tell Master Gunnery Sergeant Landess that from the outset?”

“I…” She licked her lips. “I don’t know. The guys say you can tell him anything, but when he sat in that chair, I guess I felt that I couldn’t tell him everything. At least not something so personal, so bad about myself. Especially considering all the shoptalk about him. You know…because of the thing and all.”

Shoptalk? The thing
? What the hell was she talking about? Lani wasn’t sure she wanted clarification with Pattison and Jordan hanging on every word.

“Then when I heard you were here listening from the surveillance room…”

Fuck, she knew
! The marines were talking about her and Greg. Maybe Tipton had lumped them into his private investigation on Kenyon.

Owens shook her head. “I’ve done one stupid thing after the other the last several months. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. I left them all there. Just left. What the hell kind of person does that make me? I never checked. I never called for help. It was so much easier to tell Master Gunnery Sergeant Landess I was scared than to tell him I left because I didn’t give a damn about anything other than myself.” She shrugged. “But it’s not like I could have helped them anyway, right?”

Lani wanted to tell Owens how a five-year-old had the presence of mind to check on her mother when the turmoil died down. Of how, after seeing her mother’s mutilated body, said five-year-old then called and kept watch over her younger sister. But what purpose would it serve? Owens would hear about it soon enough and was going to have to live with the guilt for the rest of her life.

“Your attorney should be here shortly. I’d advise you to be forthright with him or her.”

“Actually, ma’am. If it’s all the same to you, I’d really prefer a doctor right now.” Lani watched as Lance Corporal Owens toppled to the floor, unconscious.

They stood on the sidelines, their beleaguered crew of bitch hunters, waiting for the bus to roll into the parking lot. Other than curt nods, Lani, Greg, and Jordan made no further acknowledgment of one another’s presence.

Nancy Dickerson kept Susie and Amber Whittaker in her van, away from well-meaning people who’d most likely smother them with sympathy and dredge up all the horror the girls had been through. All they wanted was their daddy, and Nancy was determined to see that’s exactly what they got. Their expectant gazes never left the road.

Lani also noticed shit did indeed roll downhill. Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg sent his adjutant, Captain Cheryl Boyer, in his place. Standing in for the staff judge advocate were two of his military justice attorneys, both captains, Tony Vitale and Hank Leopold. They stood with Cheryl, chatting her up. Cheryl loved every second, her hazel eyes flashing signals no one would have any trouble deciphering. Every so often, the three glanced Lani’s way. She didn’t like where this was going. The trio put more distance between themselves and the rest of the group. After another backward glance, Cheryl crooked her finger for Lani to join them.

Past experience proved refusing Cheryl would only make her more persistent. If she wanted peace, Lani had no other option than to see what they wanted. Smiling, Cheryl flicked her short dark brown bangs when she saw Lani walk toward them. Tony and Hank closed ranks when she reached them, blocking Lani’s line of sight from the others, trapping her. She and Cheryl stood side-by-side, half forced to crane their necks to look at the taller men.

They were boyishly handsome, brown hair and eyes, dimples carved into their cheeks, and horny etched into every gesture. Lani took a giant step away from them.

“What’s up?” She feigned innocence. Only an idiot wouldn’t realize what they wanted.

Hank edged a little closer. Lani held her ground, refusing to be intimidated. “We’re going to Pizzazz in Palm Springs tonight. A little dancing, some nibbles, a few drinks. Join us. It’s the best dance club down there, and they’ve got one helluva happy hour buffet.”

An order, not a request. Even if Lani had been available, she would have said no. There was dominance, and then there was asshole. Dredging up a polite refusal wasn’t easy. “Wow, that’s really upscale. I don’t have anything appropriate to wear.” A lie, but the best she could come up with.

“I have a sparkly little number you can borrow. Shoes too.”

Thank you, Cheryl
. “Boy, I don’t know. It’s been a hell of a few days. I don’t think I’m up for it.”

“Might help to blow off a little steam.” Hank nudged his shoulder against hers. “Relax. Have fun.”

“No, thanks. I’d planned a quiet evening in.”
In Greg’s arms.

“Then I guess it’s just the three of us.” Tony’s megawatt grin threatened sunburn. Cheryl preened under the attention. “Don’t hesitate to call us if you change your mind,” he added.

“I won’t.” They could take that any way they wanted.

The rumble of the approaching bus gave Lani the excuse she needed to walk away. The other three followed. Business prevailed, for all their goofball antics.

Greg didn’t seem to have noticed the interaction. His attention was on the spouses gathered there to greet their marines. Lani wavered between relief and disappointment. Yes, their facade was in place, but it might have been nice to see a flare of jealousy in his eyes. Every so often he made a notation on the clipboard clutched in his grip.