by Mel Odom
The man cupped his hands in front of his face and lit a cigarette. The lighter’s flame illuminated his hard features and blond hair, but it also brought out the fact that Goose stood behind the man with his back against the wall. The first sergeant’s face was tiger striped in green and black combat cosmetics. Then the lighter snapped off and darkness covered the patio area.
The man’s cigarette glowed like a red ember. A moment later, the cigarette dropped to the patio floor and exploded in a small flurry of orange sparks before extinguishing.
Danielle could barely make out the two struggling shadows on the patio. Panic set in, urging her into flight, but she was too afraid to move, too afraid that someone would see her.
Then Goose was in motion, stepping into the light from the doorway and going through it.
United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 2222 Hours
Megan watched the end of her interview with Penny Gillespie, feeling less hopeful this time than she did the time before.
“Now I come to you,” Penny said on the screen, “as I so often have since this show began airing, in the service of the Lord our God, and ask that you make time in your hectic and troubled days to pray for Mrs. Megan Gander.”
Megan sat in an almost comfortable office chair at the small metal desk in Lieutenant Benbow’s office. The television set had a nine-inch screen but the picture was clear and in color. She’d been an hour late to the meeting to review for the start of the trial tomorrow, but the young lieutenant hadn’t been surprised.
Benbow sat on the other side of the desk with his elbows propped on his chair arms and his chin resting on his thumbs while his forefingers tapped lightly against his nose. His uniform was crisp, looking like he’d gone home and changed just before their meeting.
The story had aired more or less constantly on one channel or another since it had first broken on Penny for Your Prayers on the Dove TV channel. Since that time, several other local channels had aired sound bites of the broadcast. Too many of them seemed like they were taken out of context.
“Well?” Megan said.
Benbow looked at her, but there was a bit of reluctance in that look. “I don’t know what to say.” He picked up a pencil from the desk, turned to face her, and drummed the pencil against the legal pad in front of him. Notes covered the lined yellow page.
“Do you think I shouldn’t have agreed to the interview?”
“I wish you had talked with me first.”
“Would it have changed anything?”
“Would I have been able to change your mind?”
Megan considered the question. Talking with Penny Gillespie about everything she understood about the world had seemed right. She’d guessed that Benbow would disapprove of the interview before, during, and after she’d done it.
“No,” she answered. “You wouldn’t have been able to change my mind.”
Benbow hesitated for a moment, then exhaled and shook his head. “Then no, talking to me first wouldn’t have done any good.”
“Would you have told me not to do it?”
Benbow leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. I have to admit, Ms. Gillespie is quite a persuasive woman. The piece was really good. But this much exposure at this time in the case—” he shook his head—“I don’t know if it’s going to help us.”
“I don’t think Penny’s program hurt us.”
“Hers didn’t,” Benbow agreed. He flicked the remote control and the television changed channels. “Dove TV is repeating the program every hour on the hour, and they’re going to do so until the trial finishes.”
“I didn’t know they were doing that.” Megan had gotten home and sat through the original airing. However, with all the noise in the Gander household, she’d missed the fact that there were going to be repeated airings.
“They are. And I like that, Megan, I really do. It means they’re standing behind what you’re trying to do. Not just grabbing a handful of headlines like a lot of these other stations are trying to do. Some of the major news networks are taking the opportunity to blast you. Have you seen OneWorld NewsNet?”
Megan shook her head. “I didn’t know OneWorld NewsNet was covering the story.”
“Oh, I don’t think they’re covering it, but they are featuring a few sound bites from it. None of it is favorable.”
“Why would they take an interest?”
“Because Nicolae Carpathia owns a majority stock interest in OneWorld NewsNet,” Benbow replied, “and because your statement that God raptured the world and took all the missing people flies directly in the face of his theory—and Dr. Chaim Rosenzweig’s theory, I might add—that a random surge of electromagnetism is what caused the disappearances.”
Tired and insecure as she was, the idea was enough to inspire Megan to anger. “That,” she stated flatly, “has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”
Benbow shrugged. “In a way, the theory makes sense.”
Megan sighed. “How, Doug? Because Carpathia and Rosenzweig mentioned nuclear energy and electromagnetism? Because it sounded like technology? Do you know what their theory does?”
Looking a little put off, Benbow said, “I get the impression that you’re going to tell me.”
“Carpathia and Rosenzweig are taking away our humanity,” Megan said. “They’re putting us on equal footing with an image on one of those children’s sketchpads.” She remembered how Chris used to draw on the cheap little pads for long periods of time, telling her stories about every image he had drawn. Most of them were superheroes. Megan could always tell because Chris drew them wearing capes. “Those pads that kids can draw on, then lift the carbon paper in the middle and the image disappears?”
“I know what you’re talking about. I have little brothers.”
That surprised Megan. She hadn’t even thought about the possibility that Benbow had a family. All of the children disappeared.
“How … how old are they?” Megan asked.
Benbow pursed his lips. “Neither of them disappeared, Megan. They’re twenty-two and seventeen.”
“Did you lose any family in this?” Megan didn’t know why she hadn’t already thought to ask.
“My mother.” Benbow took a deep breath and let it out. “My dad was up late watching a Lakers game when some of the players disappeared off the court. He went in to tell my mother, but she was gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
Benbow inclined his head. “Me too.”
“Have you been back home?”
“No.”
Megan gazed at him. “I don’t even know where you’re from.”
“Kansas. Coffeeville, Kansas.”
“You shouldn’t be here. You should go home. Your family needs you. You need to deal with everything that’s happened.”
“I am dealing with it,” Benbow said. “I talk to my dad nearly every day. My two younger brothers are with him. I know he’s all right. Just hurting.” He swallowed. “We’re all hurting.”
“You should be there.”
“You need me here.”
“There are other legal counsels.”
Benbow looked at her with a half smile. “Would you prefer another legal counsel?”
“No,” Megan said. “I was just pointing out that there are others who could take your place while you took care of your family.”
“My dad and my brothers are quite capable of taking care of themselves.”
“But you need some closure too, Doug. You need to go home and see that your mother isn’t there.”
“I will, Megan.” Benbow pursed his lips. “I will soon enough.” His voice caught. “But you’re wrong about there being other legal counsels for you.”
Megan looked at him.
“Nobody wanted this assignment when I got it,” Benbow said. “I was the new guy, and it was going to be my first turn in the barrel. My commanding officer thought it would be a good idea for me to work this
case, get a taste of losing so I’d know what that felt like and develop a taste for winning.”
“He thought you would lose?”
Benbow nodded. “Yes. Most of the counsels—” he stopped him-self and smiled wryly—“all of the counsels still think I’ll lose. That we’ll lose.”
Cold and scared suddenly, Megan wrapped her arms around herself. “And what do you think?”
“I think I’ve met a wonderful woman—a counselor, a mother, and a wife—who is just going through a truly staggering run of bad luck,” Benbow said.
Megan looked at him. “I’m not making things up, Doug. I’m not imagining things. Your mother did not come undone like some Etch a Sketch figure. My son did not come undone like some Etch a Sketch figure. I will never accept that.”
Benbow regarded her. “No, ma’am. I can see that you won’t.”
“There’s a reason for all of this,” Megan said.
Benbow looked uncomfortable. “Unfortunately, Megan, I can’t put God on the stand and have Him testify that Gerry Fletcher is missing because He chose to rapture that boy a few days ago. God is not on trial. You are.”
Megan was silent, and the fear that filled her chewed in a little more deeply. “We don’t have much of a defense, do we?”
Releasing a heavy sigh, Benbow shook his head. “No. Most of the stuff we could combat the provost marshal’s office with is going to work against you as well as for you. A lot of it we won’t even be able to introduce into the court. The bottom line is that you were derelict in your duty. You were, by law, supposed to notify the parents that their son was in the hospital.”
Megan nodded, feeling the hope inside her dwindle.
“The only thing I hope to be able to use is the fact that Private Boyd Fletcher, while inebriated, fought with two MPs in the hospital so fiercely that both men had to receive hospital treatment. If I handle it right, I might be able to color the jury with the opinion that his condition, at that time of night, was about the usual.”
“How are you going to prove that?”
Reaching down beside the desk, Benbow lifted up an expandable portfolio. “I’ve got over four dozen statements from soldiers who were at the bars Private Fletcher liked to frequent. There was hardly a bar that Private Fletcher did not frequent.”
Megan was amazed at the thick sheaf of papers inside the folder. “I didn’t know that.”
Benbow held up a hand. “No. That is not what I want to hear you say up on that witness stand. Did you know that Private Fletcher had a drinking problem?”
“Yes. His drinking and his ability to handle it are noted in some of my files.”
“Along with anger-management issues he had?”
“Yes.”
Benbow referred to his notes. “Those anger-management problems generally took place at night?”
“Yes.”
“Would it surprise you to know, Mrs. Gander, that the army has records of Private Fletcher’s instances of out-of-control drinking as well as his anger-management issues?”
“No.”
“In fact,” Benbow said in a professional voice, “I believe as counselor for young Gerry Fletcher, you had access to those files.”
“Some of them.” Megan smiled a little as she watched the young officer work. He seemed to grow more confident as he went.
“The ones that reported the incidents of Private Fletcher’s reprimands for being drunk and disorderly in military bars as well as civilian bars? The same reports that were no doubt used in Private Fletcher’s court martials that busted him down in rank twice.”
“Yes.”
“Did you notice the times recorded in those reports for those problems Private Fletcher had?”
“No,” Megan said, thinking back.
Benbow flipped to a new sheet of paper in the legal pad. “All right. We definitely have a problem with that question. But that’s okay. I can work around it.” He finished a quick notation. “Mrs. Gander, could you look at these reports and tell me if the incidents of public drunkenness and fighting took place in the morning or evening?” He smiled. “At this point, you will tell me that they took place in the evening. I know because I looked through every record.”
Megan looked at the folder. “That’s a lot of work.”
Giving her a tired smile, Benbow said, “I told you I believe in you, Megan. When I haven’t been with you or been on the phone with you, I’ve spent every minute on this case. We’re still going to have a tough time getting the willful dereliction-of-duty charge past a military jury, but Boyd Fletcher is his own worst enemy, and I intend to show that. He’s not going to get a free ride through that trial.”
“That’s still not going to erase the fact that I was derelict,” Megan pointed out.
“No, but maybe I can build you in some sympathy. If I can get you off with a light reprimand at this point, I’ll be happy. And I trust that you will too.”
Megan didn’t like the idea, but she nodded so she wouldn’t take anything away from Benbow’s efforts.
“I’ve been digging into Tonya Fletcher’s history too,” Benbow said. “Did you know she had a habit of turning the phone off at night?”
“No.”
“You never called her at night?”
“No. I always contacted Private Fletcher through his cell phone.” Megan thought for a moment. “I called her that night, though.”
Frowning, Benbow asked, “What night?”
“The night Gerry disappeared.”
“You’re sure?”
Megan nodded. “I called her twice.”
“And she answered?”
“Yes.”
Benbow made another notation. “That’s too bad. I would have loved to show that Tonya Fletcher never answered her phone at night so you couldn’t have reached her even if you’d tried.” He finished writing and looked up. “Why did you always contact Private Fletcher regarding Gerry?”
“Gerry’s file requested that the father be called first. Tonya signed the agreement.”
“Is that unusual?”
“It’s not unheard of.”
“So you knew that if you called you’d definitely get Private Fletcher?”
“As long as he answered his phone.”
“Good. That will work for us. Knowing that you’d be talking to Private Fletcher and that he was probably drinking at that time of night, I think the jury will understand your hesitation—and the hospital’s hesitation—about making that call. We’re going to go into that courtroom looking pretty good. If we could somehow negate the question of dereliction of duty, maneuver things so I put your record up against Private Fletcher’s, I think I could probably get you a Purple Heart for dealing with that jerk.” Benbow sighed. “But we’re not going to be able to do that. All I can do is hope to soften the edges a little.” He glanced at the television he’d muted and saw the interview with Penny Gillespie again. “With as much airtime as this is getting, maybe it will help pull in some more public support. You’ve got a lot of Christians in the military.”
“Had them,” Megan said, thinking of Bill Townsend and how he was gone.
Benbow looked at her. “There are still a lot of us, Megan. Those of us left, we just didn’t pass muster the first time. But we will the next time.”
Despite her fears, Megan smiled. “Maybe you weren’t as disbelieving as you acted.”
Smiling, Benbow shook his head. “No. My mother was a good woman, Megan. If anybody went to heaven when all those disappearances took place, she did. Now I’ve just got to work on getting right with God myself, believing and trusting so I get to see her. If I don’t, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
Megan laughed a little, and the release of emotion brought tears to her eyes. She was beginning to feel like everything was going to be all right.
The desk phone rang. Benbow picked the handset up and spoke his name. Then he listened for a while. All the levity left his features. He said thanks to whoever was on the other end
of the line and hung up.
“There’s been a change in plans,” Benbow stated grimly.
“What?”
“Major Trimble has taken it upon himself, at General Braddock’s insistence I’d bet, to take the position of opposing counsel during the trial.” Benbow looked at his notes.
“Is that going to be a problem?”
Benbow paused a moment before speaking. “Major Trimble is a ranking officer. He’s got a lot of history here at this fort and probably with the men and women who will make up the jury. They’re going to weigh everything he says in his favor. In addition to that, he’s the head chaplain, which creates some tension with the interview you just did with Penny Gillespie and her religious program.” He sighed and locked his hands behind his head as he looked down at his notes with regret. “Yeah. I’d say this is going to be a problem.”
United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 2223 Hours
“Jenny! Phone!”
Roused from fitful slumber, Jenny woke in one of the living-room chairs and glanced at the time on the cable box on the television across the room. When she saw the time, she remembered Megan was in a meeting with Lieutenant Benbow.
“Phone,” Casey Schmidt called again. She hovered near the phone and seemed to have an almost psychic ability about when it was going to ring.
Jenny walked to the kitchen and took the cordless handset from the girl. Jenny covered the mouthpiece. “Who is it?”
The girl shrugged and continued dealing cards. “I didn’t ask. He didn’t say.” She wrinkled her nose. “Whoever it is, he sounds like he really has a problem.”
Reluctantly, Jenny pulled the phone to her ear. Since Megan’s interview on Dove TV had aired, the Gander phone line had blazed with activity.
“Hello,” Jenny said.
“Hey, girlie,” Jackson McGrath greeted in his whiskey-roughened voice.
“Dad.” Jenny’s heart plummeted. “You’re drunk.” The words were out of her mouth before she even knew she’d thought them. She instantly felt guilty. The last few days of stress and helping out were really taking their toll on her. Now, with Megan’s trial starting in the morning and all the attention from the media people regarding Penny Gillespie’s interview, the stress levels had cranked up.