Would she ever be able to explain the truth about what had happened?
Would Ted believe her?
Only if Brody was out of her life.
EIGHTEEN
The next three days were rainy and overcast, which fit Brody’s mood. Paul’s voice mail to Stephanie and her assurance to the Freemont police that she had found her brother at the marina shortly after the message had been sent confirmed Ted’s innocence.
Paul had told a number of people in town that Joshua didn’t want to live as an amputee. The chief of police was convinced Paul had planned a mercy killing, which Stephanie had prevented by finding Joshua in the nick of time. When Paul’s plan failed, he had become despondent and had taken his own life.
The case was wrapped up, at least as far as the Freemont police were concerned. Brody had his doubts. Mainly because of the so-called suicide note Paul had left with the blurred print.
Plus, he had died in his parents’ hot tub. An empty bottle of vodka had been found nearby. The police believed he’d gotten drunk, lost consciousness and drowned. All of which could indicate an accidental death, if not for the note.
Brody rubbed his temples and ignored the half-filled cup of coffee on his desk. He’d had too much caffeine over the past three days.
Too much caffeine and not enough sleep.
Every night, thoughts of Stephanie kept him pacing the floor in his BOQ.
He checked his watch and headed to Chief Wilson’s office. “Sir, I’ll be at the Main Post Chapel for Private Paul Massey’s funeral. I’ve requested two men from the military police to join me there. Jamison said he’d be there, as well.”
“You’re still not convinced the death was a suicide?”
“It’s a gut feeling, sir, but drowning in a hot tub doesn’t seem the way a soldier would take his own life. A bullet hole to the head would be more logical in my opinion.”
The chief rubbed his chin. “The stats would prove you right. But you need evidence to back up your hunch.”
If only Brody could find the printer with the blurred vowel.
“What about Joshua Webb’s condition?” the chief asked.
“Still guarded. He’s been on antibiotic therapy to counter the infection and was improving. Then the bacteria that caused the infection became resistant to the medication. The doc’s trying another combination of antimicrobials, but he’s not optimistic.”
“Have you talked to the AW2 advocate?”
“Not since her brother was questioned by the Freemont police.”
“PFC Upton will attend the funeral?”
“I believe so.”
“Watch him.”
“Yes, sir.”
The heavy chords of the organ filled the sanctuary when Brody entered the Main Post Chapel. A steady flow of mourners streamed into the pews, many in uniform. Even more were civilians, friends of the family, no doubt, from Freemont.
Brody stood in the rear and searched for Stephanie. Hearing the clip of high heels, he turned as she entered the church.
Their eyes locked for half a heartbeat before she glanced away and walked toward the front of the church. Nikki followed her into a pew and scooted over to make room for Cindy.
Brody clamped down on his jaw, steeling himself to her rebuff. Deep down, he had hoped time would temper her feelings toward him.
As much as he wished things could have been different, Brody wouldn’t have changed the way he had handled the situation. He still wasn’t sure Ted was completely stable.
His phone vibrated. Stepping outside, he raised the cell to his ear.
Instead of a greeting, the Freemont chief of police quickly explained the reason for his call. “The toxicology report came back on Paul Massey.”
Brody smiled. “You must have friends in high places.”
The chief laughed. “I told them the case involved U.S. Army heroes and needed to be handled stat.”
“As quickly as you got the results back, they must have listened. Did they find anything?”
“Clonazepam. It’s in the benzodiazepine family of drugs.”
“Usually prescribed for panic attacks.”
“That’s right. As well as seizures. Law enforcement in Atlanta is keeping a sharp eye on the drug because of its street use.”
“As a date-rape drug.” Brody was well aware of clonazepam’s side effects.
“Exactly. Which may shoot my suicide theory out of the water.”
“Unless Paul was having panic attacks. I’ll contact the head of the hospital at his last duty station and request a copy of his medical records. You’ll question the local docs to find out whether he got a prescription around here?”
“I’ve already got two officers doing exactly that. They’re also contacting the area pharmacies. I’ll notify you if I hear anything.”
Brody disconnected and watched the hearse pull to a stop in front of the chapel. Six pallbearers spilled from the narthex. Ted Upton walked next to Keith Allen.
Dressed in his military uniform, Ted looked strong and stoic, but the twitch in his cheek and the downward turn to his shoulders spoke volumes about how he really felt.
Paul Massey’s parents—an older couple with drawn faces—stood nearby. The woman leaned into the man for support and dabbed a tissue at the corners of her eyes.
As the chaplain greeted the family, Brody slipped past them and reentered the sanctuary. Stephanie glanced back as if sensing his return.
Trying to ignore her gaze, he nodded to the two military policemen standing in the rear. Earlier, he had briefed them about watching the crowd gathered at the funeral and cemetery and to alert him to anything that seemed suspect. Jamison Steele was on-site, as well.
The deep, resonating sounds of the organ filled the church. The congregation stood and began to sing. The pallbearers proceeded up the middle aisle, carrying the casket. Ted glanced at Brody as he passed. The private’s face was pale and drawn.
The family followed and filed into the front pew on the left. The pallbearers entered the pew directly opposite. At the conclusion of the hymn, the chaplain approached the pulpit and opened the service with prayer.
Brody bowed his head, thinking back to Lisa’s funeral. The minister that day had preached words of consolation, but all Brody could remember was his own despair.
Fisting his hands, he refused to dwell on the past and instead flicked his gaze around the sanctuary, knowing someone in the congregation could have attacked Joshua and staged Paul’s death to look like a suicide.
Was clonazepam the missing link in this twisted chain of events? Or was there something else Brody wasn’t seeing?
Once again, he visualized the filled bathtub in Josh’s home. Had the attacker planned to drown Joshua? Stephanie’s arrival could have forced the perpetrator to flee before he had time to submerge Josh in the water.
Stored on his phone, the newspaper photo of the teens huddled on the Upton boat flashed through his mind. What if one of them was avenging Hayden’s death?
His gaze settled on Nikki. She and Hayden had gone to prom together. Had she fallen for the town’s shining star and lashed out when the returning soldiers came back to Freemont, angry at those who had lived when the boy she loved had died?
Nikki knew the schedule at the bakery and had even voiced concern that Ted could have inherited his mother’s allergy. Easy enough for her to send Stephanie cookies, knowing she was allergic.
But would she have left the note and bull’s-eye in the house? She would have needed a key to get inside, which Ted could have provided, along with the code for the security alarm.
Were Nikki and Ted working together? Or was Ted guilty and acting alone, just as Brody had suspected all along?
Was he avenging Hayden’s death, or had something happene
d that day on the lake that Ted, in an emotional state brought on by PTSD, wanted to cover up by killing the other guys involved?
“We know the past always has bearing on our lives.” The chaplain’s voice filled the church. “Our relationship with the Lord forms who we are and how we react in situations. Paul was a fine son and a good friend to everyone who knew him. He was also a military hero who put his country first.”
Brody watched Ted’s response. He sat with his arms folded across his chest and appeared to be grieving. As Brody knew too well, looks could be deceiving.
“Although we will never know exactly what happened the night Paul died,” the chaplain continued, “we do know death is not the end but the beginning of new life lived with the Lord. The pain of the present world is over for Paul. He has journeyed home, which should bring comfort and peace.”
Brody signaled to the military policemen and then Jamison that he was leaving. As he stepped into the humid afternoon, the minister’s words replayed in his mind. Would he ever be able to look beyond the horrific circumstances of Lisa’s death?
If only he could believe in a loving and compassionate God, then perhaps he would see hope for the future and have some sense of peace about the past.
He’d been given a second chance with Stephanie, but that relationship had failed, and now, just as before, he was on his own.
Stephanie needed someone he could never be.
The realization tore at him and made Brody want to pound his fist into a wall.
To distance himself from the pain, he pulled his cell from his pocket and called Chief Wilson. “Sir, I need to make a stop on post. Then I’ll head to Freemont to talk to the chief of police. I feel there’s an area of the investigation we haven’t explored.”
“Take as much time as you need.”
The chief’s response was what Brody had hoped to hear. He phoned Don Palmer and told him his latest idea. “I’ll stop at the Post Exchange and check their computer printers. I suggest you do the same at the bakery in town.”
“You think Nikki’s involved?”
“Actually, I still think Ted’s our most likely suspect. But he and Nikki are friends. I want to ensure she didn’t help him out. You might question Nikki’s sister. See if anyone in the family takes clonazepam.”
“What about Ted?”
“I talked to the medical-care team at the Warrior Transitional Battalion. He’s on medication, but not that particular drug.”
“What about his sister? Could she be taking it?”
Brody didn’t appreciate the inference. “Let’s put that on hold for now until we learn about Nikki and Ted’s involvement.”
By the time he arrived at police headquarters, Brody was less than optimistic. None of the PX printers produced the flawed letters. The chief didn’t find anything at the bakery, either, and no one in Nikki’s family was under medical care.
According to the sister, Nikki didn’t have a computer or printer and relied on her smart phone and the library in town when she needed the internet. The chief sent one of his men to check the library printers, but he soon returned empty-handed.
By evening, Brody felt discouraged. He and the chief continued to hash over the information they had for a few more hours, until finally, at eight o’clock, Brody knew it was time to go home.
He left police headquarters eager to watch Braves baseball and focus on his favorite team instead of the case, but when he slid behind the wheel, he spied Keith’s folder with the information about the Wounded Warrior picnic. Information Stephanie needed. Brody smiled. Information that would provide a reason for him to stop by her house this evening.
He shook his head. Stephanie didn’t want to see him, he felt sure, and he was too tired to dance around the conflict that stood between them. Especially when he planned to, once again, haul Ted in for questioning in the next day or two.
Go home and stop thinking about Stephanie, his voice of reason cautioned.
The truth was, he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts. Even more troubling, he couldn’t get her out of his heart.
NINETEEN
“Don’t think about him,” Stephanie told herself as she puttered around the house, struggling to keep her mind on anything except Brody. She had looked for him after the interment, but he was nowhere to be found.
What would she have said if he had found him? Perhaps they would have chatted about inconsequential topics that skirted the real issue that was lodged between them.
If only Brody would hang up his badge and his gun at times and be a friend instead of a special agent. At one point, she had hoped their friendship would blossom into something more long lasting. Now she doubted there was anything to salvage.
Brody seemed antagonistic, if not confrontational, toward her brother. She couldn’t invite into her life someone who harbored ill feelings toward Ted, especially when she and her brother were beginning to find common ground.
Ted had come back to the house briefly with Nikki after the funeral. Keith and Cindy had stopped by, as well. Everyone wanted to reminisce about Paul and old times. Before the day at the lake. Before the boys had enlisted.
Now that they had left, Stephanie needed fresh air to clear her mind. She poured a second glass of iced tea from the pitcher in the refrigerator that she had served earlier and took a long, cool sip before she carried the glass onto the patio. The group had been nice enough to help clean up the kitchen and put away the snacks before they left, which Stephanie appreciated.
She settled into one of the chairs by the pool. A light breeze tugged at her hair and provided a reprieve from the heat.
Her phone chirped. She smiled when she saw Ted’s name on her call screen.
“Hey, Steph.” He sounded good. “I’m back at the barracks for the night, and my squad leader stopped by to make sure I was doing okay. He said to alert him if I have any problems.”
“I’m glad, Ted. Don’t hesitate to ask for help if you can’t sleep or are troubled by dreams.”
“Joshua’s condition hasn’t improved.” Ted hesitated for a long moment. “The sergeant suggested I pray for him.”
Which Nikki had mentioned. “That sounds like a good idea.”
“Would you pray, too?”
She had closed God out of her life, but maybe it was time to make a change. “Yes, I’ll pray.”
She disconnected, feeling a warm sense of relief well up inside her. Her troubled relationship with her brother was starting to improve. Reaching once again for the glass of tea, her hand trembled.
Too much caffeine, perhaps, or too little sleep.
She hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since she’d found Joshua on his bathroom floor. The sergeant was right. The injured soldier needed prayers. So did Ted.
Lord, help both guys heal.
She should go back inside, but her eyes were heavy. Totally relaxed, she struggled to remain awake. Her chin dropped to her chest.
A sound interrupted her sleep.
Startled, she tried to turn toward the shuffling footsteps and raised voice, but her body wouldn’t respond to her promptings. Unable to decipher the words that were blurred with rage, she flicked her gaze over her shoulder but saw only darkness.
A forceful weight slammed into her from behind. With a gasp, she fell onto the patio. Her head hit the concrete. Pain shot through her skull.
She groaned and clawed at the rough surface, trying to escape from the voice that railed through her.
Someone kicked her. Pain ricocheted through her lower back.
“No,” she moaned.
Cowering, she huddled in a protective ball and tried to fend off strikes that came one after another.
Rough hands grabbed her arms and half lifted, half dragged her across the patio toward the pool. She thrashed against the
ir hold, unable to break free.
With a forceful heave, she was shoved into the shimmering water. Gulping air, she tried to stay afloat, but her limbs hung heavy, like deadweight.
She swallowed a mouthful of water and coughed. Unable to remain buoyant, she slipped beneath the surface.
Gravity pulled her downward into the deep abyss. She couldn’t breathe.
Garbled though it was through the water, she heard laughter, maniacal laughter that intensified her fear.
Her lungs burned. She tried to push off from the bottom and realized too late the horrible reality that she would drown, just like Hayden.
Another sound. The clang of a bell ringing over and over again.
If only someone would save her.
Brody?
She had closed him out of her life. He would never find her. At least, not in time.
TWENTY
Pulling to the curb outside the Upton home, Brody grabbed his phone and the file folder before he stepped to the sidewalk. He had planned to go home to Fort Rickman, but an overwhelming need to see Stephanie forced him to drive instead to the Country Club Estates.
The stillness of the night was shattered by the knell of the maritime bell. His blood chilled. Forgoing the front door, he raced around the house to the patio.
A shadowed form darted into the thick wooded area at the back of the property. Brody turned his gaze to the patio. A wrought-iron chair lay overturned. The pool gate hung open.
His breath hitched. Fear jammed his throat.
He ran to the water’s edge and dropped the folder and cell to the concrete. His heart exploded when he glanced into the pool.
“Stephanie.”
Diving into the water, he was oblivious to everything except her limp body lying on the bottom of the pool.
He pulled her into his arms and kicked violently, propelling both of them to the surface. With three strong strokes, he carried her to the edge of the pool and lifted her onto the deck. Kneeling next to her, he pushed down on her sternum with rapid thrusts.
How long had she been submerged? If only she would respond.
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