“Now they’re home, getting ready to transition out of the military?”
“Private Webb will probably get a medical discharge. He’s waiting for his new prostheses. Upton has the option of returning to active duty. The burns have healed, but he’s still in counseling.”
Brody raised his brow. “Over the phone, he sounded antagonistic toward his sister.”
“I don’t know anything about their relationship. I met her yesterday so it’s just a first impression, but she seemed levelheaded and competent. PFC Upton’s like a lot of other soldiers. He’s young and wondering what the future will hold.”
“What about Webb?”
Jenkins smiled. “PFC Webb’s got a strong faith and a desire to make a difference in life. He’ll do okay.”
Your faith will sustain you, folks had told Brody nine years ago. Lean on the Lord, a statement he never understood. Why would he lean on a God who had let him down so tragically?
Brody shoved the thought aside. “What’s your take on Upton? Is he stable?”
“His squad leader and first sergeant say he’s guarded and doesn’t readily share his feelings. The counselors encourage the soldiers to talk about their problems.”
“Just as you and I had discussed earlier in conjunction with post-traumatic stress disorder.”
The major nodded. “Exactly.”
“What does the doc say about Upton?”
“That he needs more counseling.”
The entrance to the Cedar Springs area appeared on the left. Brody turned into the subdivision littered with debris from the storm and made a right at the third street. At the end of the road, two Freemont black-and-whites sat curbside, their lights flashing. An ambulance had backed into the driveway. Its rear door hung open. A gray Chevy and an older-model Corolla were parked nearby.
Brody led the way into the house, glancing first at the police officer and then at the tall, slender woman standing near the fireplace. Arms wrapped defensively around her waist, she turned as he stepped forward, her eyes as blue as the sky and strangely haunting. The furrow of her brow and the downward tug on her full lips provided a glimpse of the concern she felt for the injured soldier.
Her pastel skirt was smeared with blood, her blouse, as well. A crusty streak lined her pale cheek. If the victim’s injury hadn’t been accidental, the blood-spattered advocate might be a likely suspect, but her reason for visiting the soldier seemed legit.
Confusion covered her face, probably due to the shock of finding the injured victim. Images of the scene he had walked into nine years ago replayed through his memory. His breath caught in his chest. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. He clamped down his jaw and forced the image to flee, just as he’d done a thousand times before. Today he needed to focus on the woman with the questioning eyes that bored into his soul.
She looked at him the way Lisa had. After all these years, he still needed to guard himself against the pain. More than anything, he never wanted to be vulnerable again. Especially to someone who reminded him of the woman he had loved and lost.
A young man leaned against the counter in the kitchen. The guy wore cargo pants and flip-flops with an army T-shirt. From the high, tight haircut and the splotch of angry, red skin on his left arm, he was more than likely the advocate’s younger brother.
His right hand was bandaged. Blood spotted his shirt. The wail of accusation Brody had heard over the phone replayed in his mind.
Seeing his commanding officer, the kid pulled himself upright. “Afternoon, Major Jenkins.” He raised his injured hand to his forehead. “Thanks for coming, sir.”
“How are you doing, Ted?”
The kid nodded a bit too enthusiastically. “Fine, sir.”
While Jenkins talked to Private Upton, Brody continued into the hallway, where a transport stretcher filled the narrow space. Moving past the obstruction, he looked into the bathroom. Two EMTs, one male, one female, knelt over the victim.
Brody flashed his badge at the cop standing at the side of the doorway. “CID, Fort Rickman.”
The Freemont policeman nodded. “Didn’t take you long to get here from post.”
“What do you have?” Brody pressed, uninterested in small talk.
“Joshua Webb was renovating his house along with his friend, Ted Upton. The guy’s in the kitchen. He’s pretty shook-up.”
“You questioned him?”
“Briefly. Seems they were trying to install a new vanity mirror that dropped and shattered. Ted Upton cut his hand. Joshua insisted he have it checked out at the hospital. When Ted returned, the woman was on the floor next to Joshua, using a towel to stop his bleeding. She called nine-one-one.”
Josh Webb appeared to be physically fit other than his missing limbs. Short hair, youthful face, strong upper body. His wheelchair lay on its side.
“Looks like he was trying to clean up the broken glass, maybe extended his reach too far, and fell while his friend was gone.” The cop pointed to a blood mark on the side of the faux-marble sink. “Must have hit his head as he went down. A piece of the mirror sliced a deep gash in his upper right arm.”
The female EMT glanced up at Brody. “The glass cut his artery. He almost bled out. Vitals aren’t good. We’re transporting him to the military hospital on post.”
Brody eyed the head wound. Blunt-force trauma as well as a laceration. Taking out his smart phone, he photographed the pattern of broken glass on the floor, blood spatters on the wall and the injuries to the victim’s head and arm.
He also snapped a shot of the bathtub. “Why the filled tub?”
The cop shook his head. “No clue at this point.”
The female EMT started to stand. “We need some space.”
Brody backed out of the hallway and headed for the kitchen, where Jenkins introduced him to Ted Upton. Ted shrugged off a handshake by holding up his bandaged fingers and explained how he’d been cut.
“How long were you at the hospital?”
“A couple hours.” The kid rolled his eyes. “You know how slow emergency rooms can be.”
“You went to the hospital on post?”
“That’s right.”
“How was PFC Webb when you left him?” Brody asked.
“The same as always, laughing and talking about the future. He planned to do some small jobs in the kitchen and then grab some chow from the fridge.”
Brody opened the refrigerator. Two store-wrapped sub sandwiches sat untouched. “What time did you get here this morning?”
“Shortly after ten.”
“Anyone else stop by?”
The PFC shook his head. “No, sir.”
“What did you see when you returned to the house?”
“My sister was on the floor in the bathroom, holding a towel to Josh’s arm.”
“Did you notice her car parked outside?”
“I thought it belonged to one of the neighbors.”
“Do you know the neighbors?”
“Only Nikki Dunn.”
Brody raised his eyebrow, waiting for more information.
“She works at the exchange on post.” Ted glanced into the living room and watched the EMTs roll the stretcher carrying Josh’s unresponsive body out the front door. The policemen hastened behind them.
“Do you recall anything bothering Josh recently?” Brody asked. “Had he argued with anyone?”
Ted shook his head. “Josh does his own thing. We’re friends, and we go back a long way, but he keeps his business to himself.”
Stephanie entered the kitchen.
Ted glanced at Major Jenkins. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to follow the ambulance to the hospital.”
The major patted the soldier’s back. “I’ll go with you. Give me a minute. I want to speak to your siste
r.”
“Roger that, sir.”
Jenkins talked quietly to Stephanie while Brody moved even closer to Ted. “It’s a shock to see your friend injured.”
The soldier licked his lips. “Yeah, but I’ve seen worse.”
“Your convoy was hit in Afghanistan.”
Ted nodded. “That’s how Josh lost his legs.”
“You were injured, as well.”
“Goes with the job, if you know what I mean.”
Brody doubted the PFC had worked through the trauma of the IED explosion. More than likely, he was covering up the way he really felt.
Ted dug in his pocket for his keys. “I borrowed my squad leader’s car today to help Josh. Tell Major Jenkins I’ll be outside in Sergeant McCoy’s gray Chevy.”
Brody nodded. “Take care of that hand.”
“Will do, sir.”
He watched the PFC leave the house. Major Jenkins concluded his conversation with Ted’s sister and exited through the kitchen.
“Ma’am.” Brody approached where she stood. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“You’re the CID agent.”
He nodded. “Brody Goodman. We talked on the phone.”
“Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
“Can you tell me what you saw when you came into the house?”
She nodded. “The front door was locked. Josh had his iPod tuned to the Braves game. The volume was high. I didn’t think he heard me knock.”
“How’d you get in?”
“The kitchen door was hanging open. He’s on my caseload so I stepped inside and called his name.”
“Did he answer you?”
“No.” She let out a tiny breath. “The radio was so loud I doubt anyone could have heard me.”
“So it was easy for you to enter the house without him knowing?”
Her brow rose. “I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
“The door was open, ma’am, and you came inside unannounced.”
“I wasn’t trying to do him harm.”
Brody raised his hand and smiled apologetically. “I wasn’t implying you were, but if someone had wanted to sneak up on Private Webb, they could have.”
“They would have found him on the floor. His wheelchair had overturned. He must have hit his head when he fell. Glass cut his arm.”
“He was bleeding?”
She nodded. “I grabbed a towel and tried to stop the flow.”
“You mentioned calling nine-one-one.”
“That’s right. Then I phoned his battalion.”
“Your brother was in the house at the time?”
“Ted arrived when I was on the phone with you.” She glanced out the window at the ambulance before turning her gaze back to Brody.
“Did your brother know you had accepted the AW2 position?” he asked.
“I’ve only been in Freemont for a couple days, Agent Goodman. My brother and I have been playing phone tag.”
“For that long?”
“I really don’t see how any of this has bearing on Josh’s fall.”
“Force of habit for a CID guy, I guess.” He smiled. “You found lodging rather quickly.”
“My father has a house in town. He’s away on business. I’m staying at home until I can find an apartment.”
Brody eyed her for a long moment and then asked, “Was the water running in the tub when you arrived?”
She nodded, her eyes somber. “I turned it off before it overflowed.”
“What about outside? Did you see anything suspicious when you pulled into the housing area?”
“Not really.”
He raised a brow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning a pickup raced out of the subdivision and nearly ran into me just before I turned into the housing area.”
“Can you ID the vehicle or the make and model?”
“A red truck. Souped-up. Big knobby mud tires. Lots of chrome.”
“Did you see the driver or the license plate?”
“Everything happened too quickly. It was raining. My windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with the downpour.”
“Which direction were you coming from?”
“I’d visited two of my clients in Freemont and was heading south to meet with Joshua.”
The pickup could be some kid’s ego ride, but it could also be the vehicle the perpetrator used to race away from the scene of the crime. Either way, Brody would encourage the Freemont police to track down the red truck with big tires.
He glanced outside. The door to the ambulance was closed, and the vehicle pulled out of the driveway escorted by one of the squad cars. The remaining officer reentered the house. Brody excused himself and met the cop in the living room.
“You might want to take a second look at the blood spatters on the bathroom wall.” He pointed toward the hallway. “The pattern indicates the PFC’s arm was cut when he was still in his wheelchair.”
The cop narrowed his gaze. “You’re saying he cut himself?”
“Or someone else inflicted the wound. Ms. Upton said the back door was open when she arrived on the scene. Earlier someone raced out of the subdivision. A red pickup with oversize tires. Might be prudent to knock on a few doors in the neighborhood and see if anyone saw the truck or anything suspect this morning. A lot of people have had access to the house, but you could still check for prints.”
The officer nodded, and when Stephanie stepped back into the living room, he took out his notebook and pen. “Ma’am, I need to ask you a few more questions.”
“What kind of questions, Officer?”
“About the truck and the back door and how you entered PFC Webb’s house.”
Stephanie bristled.
“He’s just trying to determine what happened,” Brody volunteered.
“What happened is that Joshua Webb fell from his wheelchair and cut his arm, and if I hadn’t arrived when I did, he might have died.”
“Your brother was here earlier,” Brody said.
Her face clouded. “You think Ted had something to do with Josh’s injury?” She shook her head, her eyes wide and eyebrows arched. “That’s preposterous.”
“Is it? Then you shouldn’t object to the questions.”
Brody often relied on his gut feelings when investigating a crime, and nothing about the pretty advocate seemed suspect. He was more prone to consider Ted Upton as someone of interest.
Bottom line, no matter what she told the cop or how convinced Brody was that she wasn’t involved, he planned to keep his eyes on both Stephanie Upton and her brother.
* * *
The police officer’s questions were similar to the ones the CID agent had asked Stephanie earlier, except they lacked the accusation she had heard in Brody’s voice. The local policeman was thorough, while attempting to make her feel as comfortable as possible, which she appreciated.
Throughout the questioning, Brody stood to the side and watched her with dark eyes that revealed nothing about his own feelings concerning the case. At least six inches taller than her five foot seven, he had deep-set eyes and full lips that failed to smile.
She mentioned phoning Joshua and having her call go to voice mail, which sent Brody on a hunt through the house to uncover the missing cell. He returned to the living area with a smug look on his angular face. “Looks like he retrieved your message.”
At the conclusion of the questioning, Stephanie gave both the officer and the CID agent her business card. “You know where to find me if you have any more questions.”
She hurried from the house without as much as a backward glance at the special agent. Checking her watch, she let out a frustrated breath at being held up so long. She needed to join her brother and
Major Jenkins at the hospital. As the AW2 advocate, her job was to be a liaison between the military and the injured soldier and to help with all his needs, including medical. She was also concerned about Ted and wanted to ensure he was coping with Joshua’s accident.
Before she reached her car, a small, two-door sedan pulled to the curb. The driver hustled toward her.
“Ms. Upton?”
She didn’t know the man, but she saw the high-tech digital camera in his hand.
“I’m a reporter with the Freemont paper.” Without asking her permission, he raised the camera and clicked a series of pictures. “I’d like to interview you for a story about the rescue.”
“Rescue?”
“You saved Josh’s life. Just like you did three years ago.”
Her stomach soured. Surely he didn’t plan to resurrect the past.
“I’m not interested in an interview or having my picture in the paper,” she insisted, her voice firm.
The shutter clicked again.
Stephanie raised her hand to hide her face. “Please!”
“You heard the lady.”
She turned to find the special agent charging along the sidewalk to where the reporter stood.
“No interviews. No pictures. Is that understood?”
The newsman hesitated.
Brody stepped closer. His eyes narrowed and his lips clamped together in a downward frown.
“Got it.” The reporter took a step back. “Not a problem. I’m outta here.” He scurried to his car and raced from the subdivision.
Brody touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine, but thanks for the help.”
“The reporter mentioned a previous rescue. You mind telling me what he was referencing?”
“It has nothing to do with today.”
Brody stared down at her with questioning eyes.
She sighed, knowing he wouldn’t give up until she told him what had happened in the past. “If you must know, a storm came up on a nearby lake and caught Josh and my brother and a few of their friends unprepared. I arrived in time to pull some of the kids from the water.”
“Some?”
“One of the boys—my cousin, Hayden—drowned.”
The Soldier's Sister Page 2