Vicki Hinze - [War Games 04]

by Kill Zone (epub)

  He nodded, glanced at Laura’s still face, and then turned away. “I’ll, um, be in the hall.”

  “All right.” Morgan watched him go. His strength to hold it together, when she knew he felt as if his insides had been ripped apart, amazed her.

  He walked out, and the door closed behind him.

  “Morgan?” Commander Drake claimed Morgan’s attention. “He suspects Bruce hit her.”

  “Yes, he does,” Morgan confirmed. “But he isn’t certain of it.” Still, the thought of it obviously had his stomach tied in knots and pumping acid.

  “Looking back with that in mind, could you have missed any sign?”

  Damn it. “I didn’t, Commander. I was specifically looking for that. I’m sure of it.”

  “Okay, then.” The commander glanced from Laura back to Morgan. “So, do you think G.R.I.D. was involved in the murder, or just in the assassination attempt, which could have been directed at either brother?”

  “G.R.I.D. is involved in both,” Morgan said, certain of it. “But whether the assassins or Bruce killed Laura, I don’t know.” A dull throb started behind her eyes, and she rubbed at her temples. “She wasn’t raped.” The ME would have verified that already, but disclosing it without scrutiny would serve as a checkpoint for Morgan’s accuracy. “Typically G.R.I.D. operatives rape women they attack, exerting their authority and control over them.”

  “True, but not always,” Commander Drake countered. “Kunz actually prefers other methods of torture. Pain appeals to him more than degradation.”

  “Kunz didn’t commit the actual murder.”

  The commander hiked her brows but didn’t ask how Morgan knew. Still, Morgan gave her the answer. “He has a different energy. It’s very distinct.”

  “You’ve never been directly exposed to him.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Morgan agreed, sadness creeping through her. “But I have been exposed to Amanda, and she’s been directly exposed to him several times. She still carries it with her. Intense emotion lingers, sometimes for a lifetime.”

  “Which explains why you keep a little physical distance between you and her.”

  Morgan nodded. “I’d prefer she not know that. She’s a good woman, and I wouldn’t do anything to—”

  “I understand completely, and I agree.” Drake glanced back at Laura. “I’m glad Kunz wasn’t involved.”

  He loved torture. The sick bastard took a perverse pleasure in it.

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t involved,” Morgan clarified. “Just that he hadn’t committed the murder.”

  “What about Marcus Sandross?” the commander suggested, crossing her chest with her arms. “He loves torture, too.”

  He did. They’d discovered just how much the man fed on cruelty during Kate’s last mission.

  “No. He’s a strong proponent of rape. Man or woman—it doesn’t matter. If he’d killed her, Laura would have been raped.”

  Historically, Kunz’s second-in-command had issued the assassins their orders. Kunz handling that himself was hard for Morgan to imagine. Private and secretive, the man went to amazing lengths to protect himself and his identity. His survival depended on it.

  “Morgan, are you saying Kunz was with them on this mission?” Commander Drake asked. “Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “That’s what I’m getting so far.” Morgan nodded, dragging her teeth along her lower lip. “But something isn’t quite right.”

  “It’ll sort out.” The commander stared at a nonexistent point above Morgan’s head and tossed that disclosure into the mix of evidence, along with their suspicions. Her expression turned sour, and she shifted the topic. “I’m afraid you’ll still have to check under the sheet, Morgan.” Commander Drake nodded toward Laura on the gurney. “I didn’t want to mention it while Captain Stern was with us, but I knew he’d need a moment alone.” Regret laced her voice. “It’s significant.”

  “I know.” Morgan did know. She had known since shortly after she had entered the morgue. But she lifted the sheet anyway to personally count the thirty-one stab wounds Laura had absorbed in her chest, abdomen, and back.

  On feeling the first slide of the knife into flesh, Morgan had made the decision not to lift the sheet in Jackson’s presence. Thankfully, she was able to spare him that. Now she examined Laura’s left arm, wrist, and hand. Her nails were cracked and broken off at the quick. Every finger on her left hand was broken in at least one place; her forefinger had sustained two breaks, one above and one below the knuckle. Her right hand’s pinky had been broken, too, in the scuffle to take her ring, which was after she’d been stabbed over twenty times.

  They hadn’t wanted death to come easily to her.

  Morgan’s throat went tight, and her chest hollowed. Laura Stern had fought like hell to live, knowing her murderers would never allow it. She’d prayed for a miracle. And she had died with one thought on her mind:

  Help Bruce.

  Morgan intuited that clearly. The problem was, how did she interpret it? Did Laura’s “help Bruce” mean she had been killed because of him? Or that she was afraid he would be killed next? That she feared he couldn’t cope without her?

  Or did she mean that Bruce had killed her?

  CHAPTER 4

  Jackson stood waiting a few steps down the hall, staring sightlessly at something tucked away in the corners of his mind.

  Morgan breathed deeply three times, slowly exhaling, to leave her own images of Laura behind and to brace for the onslaught of his. She motioned for Commander Drake to go on to the conference room, and when she did, Morgan walked on to Jackson and stopped beside him. “You holding up?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, curled his fingers into fists, and pulled himself from his thoughts. Then he looked over at her, grief carving lines of strain in his face. “When can I see Bruce?”

  Jackson was okay. Angry. Shocked down to the soles of his feet. Having to remind himself to breathe, but he was coping.

  “Not until about noon, I’m afraid,” Morgan answered.

  He nodded, gazed off, and his composure cracked. Weary. Beaten. He stiffened, forcing the crack to close, cursing himself as weak. His outward signs of stress deepening, he pleaded, “Are we done here?”

  “You are, yes.” Morgan spotted movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced over at the conference room door. Taylor Lee stood waiting and sent Morgan a signal in the negative.

  Jackson spared Taylor Lee a glance, put her on “ignore,” and then turned back to Morgan. “I’ll be on the Sunrise until noon, if you should need me for anything.”

  Now she had to cross him again. Poor guy. The hits just kept on pummeling him. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Captain Stern,” Commander Drake said from beside Taylor Lee. Clearly she’d overheard his comment, and she was walking back toward them. “Forensics isn’t yet finished with the Sunrise. They’re going to need a few more hours.”

  “Okay.” He sighed. “I’m sure Bruce and Laura’s house is off-limits, too …”

  “Until further notice, yes.” She nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  He turned his gaze to Morgan. “Where was Laura’s body found?”

  “On base,” Morgan said, hoping he’d leave it there.

  The last thing he needed was the specific images the exact location would plant in his mind. Morgan still couldn’t shake them.

  Commander Drake interceded. “Taylor Lee has contacted the VOQ and booked a room for you.”

  Morgan winced. Sending the man to the sterile and unfamiliar environment of the visiting officer’s quarters seemed harsh and unconscionably cruel. “Commander, no.”

  Regret washed through Drake. “I know, and I’m sorry. But under the circumstances, what else could we do?”

  Morgan didn’t have an answer for that.

  “It’s okay,” Jackson said. “I’ll be fine there.”

  He wouldn’t. It pounded from his every pore, but he was telling himself otherwise.

  “
They’re expecting you whenever you’re ready, Captain Stern,” Taylor Lee said from behind him.

  “Thanks.” He turned to go and realized he didn’t have a way to travel. “Could you point me in the right direction? I’m not familiar with Providence.”

  “A car is waiting out front to take you over,” Taylor Lee added.

  “Thank you.” He nodded to acknowledge her.

  “Come on, Jackson.” Morgan pressed his arm. “I’ll walk you out.”

  He fell into step beside her, and they silently walked to the elevator, took it up to the main floor, and then walked down the corridor to the outside door.

  Morgan had retrieved one of her cards when she’d gone to get the bottles of water, and she scribbled her cell and home phone numbers and her address on its back. “If you need to talk or if I can do anything for you, or whatever, let me know.” She passed the card to him. “I’m going to see Bruce at noon, too,” she added, dropping her voice. “If you’d like to ride along, I’ll be happy to pick you up at the VOQ.”

  “I would appreciate that, yes. Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Morgan stopped beside the wide glass door that led out of the hospital. “Magnolia Beach is a tourist town, Jackson, which means hotels and rental cars are available most of the time.”

  He lifted his brows and tilted his head. “Except on holiday weekends.”

  “Ah, you’ve been here before.”

  He sent her a level look. “I wish now I’d driven over far more often.”

  “I know.” His family lay shattered, and now those opportunities to be with them were gone and they would never come again. “With the clarity of hindsight …”

  “That’s it.” He swallowed hard, his eyes shining overly bright. “I still can’t believe any of this, Morgan.” His voice shook. “Laura or Bruce. It’s just …”

  “Give yourself some time. In the last twelve hours, you’ve had more bad shocks than most people absorb in a lifetime, Jackson. Any one of these things cuts down to the bone.”

  “Yeah.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “It’s been twelve hours of hell.”

  She said sincerely, “I’m sorry for my part in it.” A tear slipped down her cheek, humiliating her.

  He noticed, looked into her eyes, and lifted a fingertip to brush the skin beneath her eye. “I appreciate that.” He dragged his fingertip down, following the track of the tear. “I know you’re not paying me lip service. This”—he paused to touch the teardrop, then studied her face—“is genuine.” Warm breath escaped from between his lips. “It … helps.”

  His feather-light touch captivated her, and she had to make herself think. “Nothing helps right now,” she countered, contradicting him. “Not really.” But it’d been kind of him to say what he had.

  “You’re wrong about that.” He gave her a slow blink. “I can count on one hand the number of times in my life anyone has shed a tear because I was hurt.”

  The fisted bands clenching her chest tightened. “That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I wish I could say it’s the saddest thing I could tell you, but I respect you, so I won’t.” He drew in a ragged breath. “When you put it all together, no matter how bad this has been for me, my brother has suffered more.” Jackson’s gaze bored into her, seeking her feelings about Bruce in all of this.

  She made herself meet and hold his gaze, though looking at him took effort. He wanted absolution for Bruce, and he wouldn’t find it in her; at least, not at this point in the investigation. Still, she suffered pangs of regret that she couldn’t give it to him. But ethics were ethics, and a woman couldn’t stuff them in a closet and forget them because they had suddenly become inconvenient. She had to choose to wholly embrace or forget them. Honesty demanded it and accepted nothing less.

  Morgan had made that call long ago. Yes, there were many times when sticking to her ethics had royally sucked. And, yes, this was another one of them. But she couldn’t do anything else, and if Jackson was the man she thought he was, he would be damned disappointed in her if she did— almost as disappointed as she would be in herself. “I expect that Bruce has suffered immensely,” she said, speaking truthfully. Whether he was innocent or guilty of murdering Laura, Bruce had suffered. No disputing that.

  “I want to believe in him,” Jackson said, staring over the car into the parking lot.

  “He’s your brother. Of course, you do.”

  He wanted and needed to believe in Bruce, but Jackson had doubts and they were tearing him apart.

  She offered him a trembling smile. “If you need to talk or anything, or if you run into trouble or whatever, just call me. I’ll do what I can to help you.”

  “I will.” Jackson didn’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. “I want to be in on this investigation, Morgan. I realize that’s a bit unorthodox, but the classified information Bruce knows and can’t disclose to anyone else could bite him in the ass. You know what I mean.”

  “I do.”

  He looked relieved to hear it. “I need to know if G.R.I.D….” He paused, then went on. “For Laura.”

  Jackson’s heart demanded it. He was very devoted to both of them and, swimming in guilt already, he wanted to avoid any more.

  “I understand, Jackson. You’ve got the essential clearances. I’m not sure how, but I’ll work on the conflict of interest issue and get it resolved. The honchos have cleared you, but that doesn’t mean Oversight won’t want a reasonable explanation.”

  “And you don’t have one,” he said. He had one, but he couldn’t disclose it.

  “No, I don’t.” She shrugged. “We’ll have to get creative. That’s all.”

  “You’re not suggesting we lie …”

  “Of course not.” They both knew she meant it, but he knew the penalties of creativity as well as she did. And the fact that she was willing to endure them for him touched him, which touched her. Her face went warm.

  “Thank you. For all the obvious reasons, it means a great deal to me.” He offered her his hand.

  She clasped it and sensed just how much her care meant to him. His depth of gratitude caused tears to well in her eyes. The impression that he hadn’t received much support from others in his life in any form, though he had given tons of it, burned strong. That might just have been the saddest thing she’d ever sensed. She blinked against the wind, wondering what had happened to Tropical Storm Lil. It’d kind of fizzled out.

  “My privilege,” she said.

  He nodded and let go of her hand and then slid into the front passenger’s seat of the blue standard-issue Air Force car.

  Morgan watched him go. His entire life, Jackson Stern had had to depend only on Jackson Stern. He hadn’t been nurtured or protected or supported, even when he’d helped others. It was as if his selfless generosity was expected, perhaps demanded. Odd. She’d sensed all that and more. All his life, Jackson had given to Bruce unstintingly, without resentment. Morgan didn’t fully understand that yet. Normally, there would be at least some resentment and longing for the same generosity in return. He was aware of the disproportion. He acknowledged it, and even alluded to it in conversation with her. But he didn’t resent it. And that baffled Morgan. She couldn’t help but wonder why. And she couldn’t help but wonder where in hell Jackson and Bruce’s parents had been.

  Baffled, Morgan expelled a deep breath, steadied herself, and then tapped the door and turned back down the hallway. Be careful, Morgan. He gets to you, and that makes

  him dangerous. Especially now, on this mission.

  He doesn’t. It’s intriguing, and it could be important to the case. That’s all.

  Liar.

  She was lying to herself. The man got to her, and she wasn’t sure why. Yes, he’d set aside any resentment for her shooting him, and trusted her. He’d openly admitted his vulnerabilities. He’d been devoted to his family in spite of the fact that they had shown him so little devotion. She didn’t know which of these traits appealed most to
her. She couldn’t say—and wouldn’t even if she could.

  However, her admiration of his character was not a serious concern. It was the inkling of awareness inside her that concerned her immensely. It had already yawned and gained a firm foothold in her heart. From the first moment she’d seen him, Jackson Stern had snagged her attention and held her interest. Now, after all they’d experienced together, he called to her on all levels: physically and emotionally, consciously and subliminally.

  To feel this way was not smart, by anyone’s measure. But it was the truth and she had to accept it and to decide what to do about it. Something? Nothing? She didn’t know. Frustration swamped her, and she mumbled under her breath, questioning herself on all fronts.

  Not paying close attention, she stubbed her toe on the edge of a nonskid rug. Pain shot through her foot. “Damn it!” she muttered, doing a little hop to keep from falling.

  Why him? Why now? Why during this, when she was up against Kunz?

  Taylor Lee met her midway down the corridor. How did she look good in everything? Morgan felt like a frump in the scrubs, and Taylor Lee looked fresh, exotic, spectacular, and well rested. No justice.

  She caught up to Morgan, a pout curving her lips. “He’s gorgeous, and you didn’t share. I totally hate you.” She faked an affronted sniff. “At least tell me you tried to seduce him.”

  “You’re out of your mind, Taylor Lee. And about as compassionate as a stone.”

  Taylor Lee was crazy … but she was right, too. Jackson was gorgeous. He shouldn’t be, his face all hard angles and rough-hewn planes, but taken in together, he was amazing to look at. “The poor man is devastated. His family is in tatters, and we’ve kicked him in the teeth—”

  “We haven’t kicked him anywhere.”

  “We doubted him. He feels betrayed, and so would you,” Morgan insisted, glaring at her.

  Taylor Lee pursed her lips. “You think he wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

  He would have. He wouldn’t have had any more choice than they’d had. “That’s not the point.”

  “Well, what is the point?”