A More Perfect Union

by Carsen Taite

  Zoey nodded even though she didn’t have a clue what “white shoe law firm” meant.

  “He’d been at work for several hours when the north tower was hit,” Rook said. “By the time the second plane struck the south tower, he was organizing a group of associates from his firm to head downtown to do whatever they could to help out with the rescue effort. A year later, he quit the firm, and after ten weeks of Officer Candidate School at Quantico, he was shipped out to Afghanistan.”

  “Marines?”

  “The few, the proud—that’s the one. Rory fell for the whole line.”

  Zoey started to say maybe he really believed he was joining a worthy institution, but she was certain the observation would only upset Rook. “You want to tell me what happened or should I look it up?”

  Rook grunted a mirthless laugh. “Good luck with that—looking it up. If you find anything in the official record, it won’t be true.”

  Okay, now they were getting somewhere. Zoey still didn’t have a clue what was going on, but now that she’d identified the source of Rook’s anger, she was ready to press further. “Rory died in service and the information about the circumstances of his death has been sealed?”

  “That’s one way to spin it. But it would be more accurate to say Rory was killed by the service and the information about the circumstances of his death have been manipulated to protect the men who killed him.”

  Zoey schooled her features to keep from exhibiting the shock Rook’s proclamation elicited. She took a deep drink from the whiskey and set the glass on the coffee table, settling on the kind of direct approach she believed Rook would employ with one of her clients. “Are we going to keep dancing around each other?”

  She watched Rook shift in her chair and figured there was an equal chance she’d either fess up or completely shut down. The seconds ticked by and Zoey let the silence hang between them, certain if they didn’t clear the air now they never would. Wasn’t like she had anywhere else she needed to be. The only furniture in her new place consisted of piles of boxes, and if she was being honest, she didn’t really want to be alone. Working with Rook, rocky as it may have been so far, made her feel a part of something, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since she’d blown the lid on the Nine Tech scandal. Even before she’d come forward, she’d been feeling isolated in her command, having moved around so many times she no longer had a core group of friends or even acquaintances with whom she could socialize or commiserate. Watching Rook struggle with her demons, she wondered if Rook felt isolated too. She softened her tone. “Look, you don’t have to talk to me, but—”

  Rook’s voice, low and deliberate, stopped her. “Rory’s unit was attacked in an apparent ambush on a road outside of the Tani District of the Khost Province, near the Pakistan border. After valiant efforts to save the other soldiers in his unit, Rory succumbed to enemy fire.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Zoey flinched inwardly at the empty phrase of sympathy and reached for Rook’s hand. She squeezed, certain she’d heard only the scrubbed up version of events. “I assume there’s more to it.”

  “You mean like how he received a posthumous elevation of rank and was awarded a Silver Star and a Purple Heart for his efforts? Oh, and let’s not forget that I got a neatly folded flag.”

  Rook’s voice dripped sarcasm and she punctuated her remarks by pointing across the room at the bookshelf where a triangular shadow box displayed a flag given to relatives at military burials.

  Zoey was certain she’d only just started to peel back the layers and braced for more. “I’d like to say all the losses we suffered over there were for a good cause, but I get it’s hard to see that considering how things are still so messed up.”

  Rook jerked to attention. “Is that your official version? Things are bad, losses are hard, sacrifice for the greater good?” She stood and started pacing. “I just want to make sure I’m clear on the official version, because it can change on a dime. A few weeks after Rory’s funeral, some of his fellow soldiers were drunk and mouthing off in a bar about how his death was actually the result of friendly fire. Apparently, another squad patrolling in the region either didn’t know or was too careless and wound up barraging Rory’s unit with firepower under the mistaken impression they were all Taliban smugglers.”

  “Let me guess,” Zoey said. “They weren’t just mouthing off.”

  “Bingo, Major. They were telling the truth. Part of it anyway.”

  “So his death was the result of friendly fire?”

  “Yes, but the mystery remains regarding which of his ‘friends’ fired on him and why it happened in the first place.”

  “You have some reason to doubt the revised story?”

  “I have a bunch of reasons.” Rook stopped pacing and counted out her points. “There have been dozens of friendly fire incidents during the war in Afghanistan, but this is the only one we know of where servicemen actively hid the facts. They burned Rory’s body armor, his journals, and his command rushed to award him the Silver Star and Purple Heart which they have yet to revoke even though he didn’t earn either.” Her voice cracked. “We weren’t informed Rory was shot by one of his own until two months after we buried him.”

  “What was the official line?”

  “The usual. ‘Evidence has come to light.’ ‘Further investigation revealed.’ All the usual catchphrases authority uses to create spin.”

  Zoey bit her lip to keep from pointing out that spin was what allowed Rook to live in a house like the one they were sitting in now. “Did you ever find out what really happened?”

  “No, but not for lack of trying. I’ve filed countless FOIA requests. Connie Armstrong personally requested the file, but what they gave her was so heavily redacted, it was like trying to get insight from a block of Swiss cheese. I’ve never been able to get a complete list of the soldiers who were in the unit that laid down the fire. I have a lot of clout in this town, but if a US senator can’t get access, I don’t have a chance.”

  “Have you thought of asking Julia?”

  “It’s one thing for the chair of the Armed Forces Committee to ask for information about a soldier’s record, but for the White House to get involved?” Rook shook her head. “I’d tell any client of mine similarly situated to swing wide away from this one.”

  Zoey nodded like she got it, but she didn’t. Julia Scott was arguably the most powerful person in the country aside from the president. Surely there was some way for her to get what Rook needed without causing a backlash, but it wasn’t her place to argue the point. It was time to face where things stood between them. “I can’t even imagine the pain you’ve suffered.” She paused and then plunged into the hard part. “I’ll concede you’ve got decent reasons to hate anyone in a uniform, but you accepted this job so I’m guessing you don’t think we’re completely irredeemable.”

  “No, not all of you,” Rook said, shooting her a half smile.

  Zoey met the smile with one of her own, feeling the air ease between them now that she understood Rook’s reluctance to work with the military wasn’t about her personally. “I can assure you I’m not interested in being part of a cover-up. Should we get to work?”

  Rook stopped pacing and shot her a half smile. “You’re good at that, you know?”

  “Good at what?”

  “Focus. I thought I was the master of drilling down, but you’re better.”

  “Years of being whipped into shape will do that to you.”

  Zoey was instantly sorry for the flippant remark, but Rook greeted it with a smile so she supposed it was okay. Rook settled beside her on the couch. “Can you focus here or should we move into my study?” Rook asked, this time with a full, broad smile.

  The voice in her head, the one that kept her life ordered and on track, said she should ease away and insist on structure, boundaries to guard against her growing feelings, but a much louder voice, one that usually gave in, yelled for her to stay here on the couch, by Rook’s side. Zoey cast for the right w
ords to state her honest feelings. “I have no idea if I can focus, but I want to be here. With you.”

  “Good,” Rook murmured as she drew closer. She slipped her hand over Zoey’s and gently extracted the heavy tumbler still full of whiskey. She set it on the coffee table with her other hand, never letting go of Zoey’s. When she turned back to face her, her gaze was dreamy and she said, “There are times that focus is overrated.”

  The heat of attraction melded them closer. Zoey tugged at Rook’s jacket and drew her in as the differences between them receded against the urgent need to touch her, to feel her lips pressed against hers. She was focused all right, like a laser tracking its target.

  When their lips touched, Zoey groaned with pleasure, certain she’d never felt this good before and never would again. This moment, this mind-numbing pleasure, was the perfect erasure, removing the lines she’d been so careful not to cross. She dipped her tongue between Rook’s lips, seeking, claiming, wishing for more, and Rook met her with forceful strokes, stoking their heat to new levels.

  “You taste so good,” Rook murmured, trailing kisses along her neck. “Best ever.”

  “You can say that again,” Zoey said, sucking in a breath as Rook found the sensitive spot just below her ear.

  “You’re ticklish,” Rook said with glee, diving back in to kiss the spot.

  “Ticklish isn’t the word I’d use for it.”

  Rook drew a long, slow circle around the area with her tongue. “What word would you use?”

  “Imagine a line going directly from the spot you just discovered to…” She didn’t get to finish the sentence before Rook was back at the spot. Zoey gripped her shoulders, certain if Rook kept it up much longer there would be no such thing as focus ever again.

  A piercing ring filled the air, startling them both.

  “Your phone,” Zoey murmured, but Rook seemed determined not to stop.

  “It can wait,” Rook whispered, but her voice was already starting to resume its crisp professionalism.

  Zoey gently eased back, out of Rook’s grasp. “You should get it. Maybe there’s been a development.” She hesitated adding, “Or maybe someone else needs you.”

  Rook looked up into her eyes, and Zoey saw kindness and compassion mixed with raw desire. The blend was nice, new, and completely unfamiliar to her. She didn’t want Rook to answer the phone, but she also didn’t want to be the kind of person who stood in the way. She picked up Rook’s phone, slid the answer button, and handed it over.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rook tore her gaze away from Zoey and spoke into the phone, adopting a casual tone like doing so would keep her friend from knowing she’d just been lusting over her Pentagon liaison. “Hey, Julia, I was just sitting here with that liaison from the Pentagon, Major Granger. I’m happy to report, we seem to be working well together.” She shot Zoey a smile, but it faded quickly at Julia’s no-nonsense tone.

  “Rook, I need you and your team to get to this address, right now.” Julia’s voice was thick with urgency. “One of the people on your list of interviewees is dead.”

  Rook listened as Julia filled her in and then reached for a piece of paper and scrawled the address. After she hung up, she sent a quick text to Blake, studiously ignoring Zoey’s curious gaze. Once she’d sounded the alarms and notified George to pick her up downstairs, she slipped the phone into her pocket.

  “What was that all about?” Zoey asked.

  “I need to go.” Rook leaned in and kissed her softly. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Has there been some kind of development?”

  Rook had made a split-second decision she was going to handle this on her own, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more information first. “Did you or Dixon wind up talking to Colonel Mitchell this afternoon?”

  “No,” Zoey said emphatically. “I mean, he came by my office late yesterday and yelled at me for even trying to talk to him, but I don’t think that counts.”

  “Yesterday? Why didn’t you mention that when we discussed him this morning?” Rook shook her head, instantly zooming from zero to furious Zoey hadn’t shared this detail with her. “Never mind. What exactly did he say to you?” Rook watched while Zoey cycled back through her memory and wasn’t surprised when the slow burn of realization hit. “He told you something about the case, didn’t he?”

  “He said something about how he knew the students that were involved with the Lorraine Darcy Agency, but he didn’t have anything to do with them. Blamed his name being in their files on the fact he is a hard grader and his students might want to get him in trouble. He sounded like he was posturing a little, trying to keep out of the fray. Why? What’s going on?”

  Rook shook her head, and Zoey pressed harder. “You can’t keep me in the dark. This is my investigation too. One way or another I’m going to find out.”

  “You’re right,” Rook said, not disguising her annoyance. “We’re supposed to be working together, which is why you should’ve told me he came by your office. I’ll do you one better than you did me. Colonel Mitchell put a bullet through his head this evening, so whatever conversation you had with him was the last. I hope you’re prepared to answer questions about exactly what you two discussed.”

  Rook was instantly sorry she’d delivered the harsh words when she saw Zoey’s shocked expression. She sincerely doubted Zoey had anything to do with the colonel’s death, but she had to be suspicious about everyone until they were eliminated, whether she’d kissed them or not.

  She’d planned to head to Mitchell’s house on her own, but with Zoey’s revelation that she’d spoken with Mitchell the day before, she had second thoughts. Before she could change her mind, she said, “Come with me, but know this: I don’t care about your rank. I’m in command on this particular operation. Get it?” She didn’t wait for an answer before heading to the door, hoping she wouldn’t regret any of her decisions this evening.

  * * *

  Zoey sat in the back of the car with Rook, steaming. She needed to call Sharp, but she didn’t dare make the call when Rook or George, for that matter, could overhear her every word. Damn Rook for trying to shut her out, especially after their kiss. She felt like a fool for letting her guard down.

  Rook was on the phone the entire ride to Mitchell’s residence, talking to everyone but her. From the sound of it, she was rounding up an enormous team to deal with any contingency. Zoey started to rethink her decision not to call Sharp, but before she could act on it, the car stopped and George announced they’d arrived at their destination.

  Rook started to open her door, but she turned back to face Zoey. “Follow my lead and don’t say anything to anyone without running it by me first. Understood?”

  The harsh tone, the bossy words—everything about Rook’s changed demeanor—put Zoey on the defensive, which was exactly the opposite of where she needed to be. She was here as an officer of the Army, a direct report to the Joint Chiefs, and she wasn’t taking orders from a civilian, no matter who she thought she was. She assumed a sharp tone of her own. “No. I’m not here to follow your lead. I’m in charge of this investigation. My bosses might report to the White House, but none of us report to you. If Colonel Mitchell’s death is related to this case, then we can talk about how we’ll work together, but if it isn’t, then the local police can investigate and we can move to the next name on our witness list. Understood?”

  For a second, Rook looked surprised at her blowback, but then shook her head. “Okay, Major. Come on in. I think you’re going to be in for a big surprise.”

  Zoey scrambled to follow Rook up the walk. The house was a modest two-story with a wraparound porch decorated for spring with newly planted flowers in bright ceramic pots. Zoey was indeed surprised not to see any signs of police activity on the street. Maybe they’d parked in back? The front door had a gatekeeper, a tall, thin man in a dark suit with an earpiece. His lips were moving, and Zoey wondered if he was telling someone they were coming in. Rook flashed her ID
and leaned in close to whisper something, after which the man propped open the door and motioned for them to go inside.

  The place was swarming with activity. A few men in suits were busy searching every nook and cranny while a huddled group consisting of a woman and two children that Zoey pegged as Mitchell’s family stood in the corner. Rook walked over to one of the men. They spoke in low, whispered voices, and then Rook strode toward Mitchell’s family and took the woman’s hand. “Mrs. Mitchell, I’m so sorry for your loss. President Garrett asked me to give you his condolences. You can be assured your husband will receive a service befitting his command, but right now we need to deal with some housekeeping items. Do you have someone, a family member maybe, that you could stay with for a few days?” At Mrs. Mitchell’s nod, Rook turned to one of the men in suits and signaled for him to come over. “This gentleman is going to take you and your children wherever you would like to go.”

  Zoey watched their frightened faces, clearly hesitant to follow the stranger from their house. Deciding it was time to contact Sharp and involve the Pentagon, she pulled out her phone and scrolled to find his number. Before she could connect the call, Rook grabbed the phone from her hand and pulled her into the hall.

  Zoey struggled from her grasp. “We have protocols when an officer dies. I need to make some calls.”

  “Don’t even think about it. No calls, no texts, no emails.”

  “Not your decision to make,” Zoey said, reaching for her phone. “Either you give me back my phone or I’m out of here.”

  “What do you plan to do when you leave? This death didn’t occur on a base and it’s not your jurisdiction. It’s being handled.”

  “By whom? I don’t see any DC Police.” Zoey pointed to one of the suited men searching the house. “I don’t know who these people are.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to.”

  “What about the family? Should we have spoken to them about what happened?”