by Carsen Taite
“They came home and found him already dead. Arrangements have been made for them to give full statements, but not here, not now.” Rook pointed down the hall. “Come with me.”
She took off, and Zoey watched her go, torn between protocol and practicality. Fact was she didn’t know what to do in this situation. For all she knew someone well above her pay grade was already involved. Should she trust that they knew what they were doing, or was not calling Sharp a dereliction of her duty? Either way, it appeared that if she wanted to get to the bottom of why Mitchell was dead, her only hope was to go with Rook and find out what she could.
Rook, face grim, stopped her at the door and shoved a pair of paper booties at her. “Put these on and don’t touch anything. Prepare yourself. It’s not pretty.”
Zoey leaned down to slip the booties over her shoes and nearly slipped. Rook grabbed her hand, gently this time. “Here,” she said, motioning to her shoulder. “It’s easier if you hold on.”
“Thanks.” Zoey held on tight to Rook’s shoulder and managed to get both booties on her shoes. With no further reason to hold on, she let go and immediately felt a sense of loss at the broken connection from Rook’s grounding force. Rook was so in control and in charge, like she visited scenes of violence every day. Zoey pointed into the room. “Is this where he…?”
“Yes. Step carefully and stay right next to me.”
Zoey followed Rook into the room, sweeping her gaze slowly and carefully from side to side to take everything in. The space looked like a study with a large roll top desk against the far wall and bookcases lining the rest of the room. As she looked around, the sour, metallic smell of blood hit her nostrils, but it didn’t entirely prepare her for the gruesome scene that served as the focal point.
The man on the floor lay on his side, a macabre sight. The profile of his face was recognizable as Colonel Mitchell, but the back of his head was a large, gaping mass. Gray matter and blood were splattered to the rear of the chair situated in the exact middle of the room. If she hadn’t met him, she might be able to hold back a reaction, but this man had been in her office only yesterday, pleading with her not to involve him in her investigation. Guilt gripped her, but she’d had no reason to think his entreaty was a matter of life and death. “Did he leave a note?”
“We’re not sure yet.” Rook’s dark eyes bored into her own. “We’re not ruling anything out at this point. We don’t have to stay in here, but I thought it might be helpful if you were present when we went through his desk, you know, in case we find something that you might have special knowledge about.”
“You mean top secret military stuff?”
“Something like that.”
Zoey nodded, but Rook’s words about not ruling anything out played on a reel in her head. Was there some reason to think Mitchell’s death wasn’t a suicide? She wanted to ask, but the presence of the other people in the room gave her pause. “I can look, but I don’t think I’d know if anything he has is important. Where should I start?”
Rook waved at a woman on the other side of the room. “Major Granger, this is Blake Wyatt. She’ll stay with you and process anything you find that might be helpful.”
Zoey assessed the stranger. Tall, blond, and model-thin, Blake wore a skin-hugging midnight blue dress that hit mid-thigh and she looked like she’d come straight from a party. General instinct told Zoey not to trust a civilian, but despite the way she was dressed, this woman’s rigid posture and economical movements screamed some kind of law enforcement and maybe even a military bearing. With no specific reason not to trust her, Zoey decided to play along for now. “Show me what you’ve found.”
Blake led her over to the desk. The roll top was pulled back, and Zoey asked if it had been like that when they arrived.
“Yes. Everything is exactly how we found it. The paperwork I’d like you to look at is there and there.” She pointed at two desk drawers and then proceeded to tug them open with her gloved hands. “I’ll hold the paper while you read. Okay?”
Zoey nodded and resisted the urge to hurry her along as Blake slowly opened the drawers and extracted an envelope from each drawer. She meticulously opened them and pulled out a few sheets from each. Zoey recognized the first one immediately as it bore the seal of the Department of Defense, denoting orders. She motioned for Blake to hold it closer and she skimmed the page and then read it again more carefully. Colonel Mitchell was being reassigned to the base in Kobani, Syria, effective the following day.
“What is it?”
Zoey looked back at Rook who was reading over her shoulder. “I’m not sure.” She had a theory, but she didn’t want to say it in front of the woman. Like a mind reader, Rook jerked her chin at the woman. “I’d trust her with my life. You can speak freely.”
“Let me think about it.” Zoey wasn’t going to be pushed. “Let’s just say this is important and it should be collected. Let me look at the other one, please.”
The second piece of paper didn’t bear an official seal, but was on Colonel Mitchell’s official letterhead and it shocked her from the very first line. The rest of the words were a blurry mess, and she shook her head as if by doing so she could clear the words on the page like shaking a Magic 8 Ball. It didn’t work.
* * *
“It’s okay.” Rook focused on keeping her voice gentle and soothing, which was difficult considering what she’d managed to glean from a skim of the page. “You don’t need to read it now. Blake, make sure you pack this one up with the other. I’ll meet you at the office.” She started to steer Zoey away, but she stayed firmly in place.
“No, I need to know what it says.”
Rook caught sight of Blake shaking her head, but she knew a simple denial wasn’t going to be enough for Zoey. “Let me have it,” she told Blake who handed her a pair of latex gloves and waited for her to put them on before giving her the letter. Rook read the contents, taking her time to digest each word. Mitchell’s message from beyond was a sucker punch of near revelations. When she finished reading, Rook moved the paper into Zoey’s sightline. “I don’t understand all of this, but maybe you will.” Rook held the single sheet of paper steady, reading the words along with her.
Major Granger,
I don’t know if you realize the Pandora’s box you’ve opened, but now that it’s done, you will have to face the consequences. There really isn’t anything I can say to help except to warn you to trust no one. Anyone who professes to be on your side or offers to be of assistance to you is very possibly an enemy of the state and will likely view you as a threat once you begin to discover the truth.
I’m telling you all of this because despite your current position as inquisitor and the way I reacted in your office yesterday, I admired the fact you took a stand and chose to reveal the dishonesty going on in front of you. But know this: the fraud perpetrated behind the scenes is a thousand times worse than anything the public sees, and the consequences of standing up to the forces that drive it are dire. I did not have what it takes. Maybe you will, but no matter what, you will not escape unscathed.
Rangers lead the way,
Colonel Nicholas Mitchell
Rook watched Zoey’s face for signs she’d finished reading, and when her eyes shuttered, Rook handed the paper to Blake and mouthed for her to keep searching. The agents were still conducting their search, and Rook guided Zoey past them until they were at the front door where Harry stood waiting, his eyebrows arched in question. Behind Zoey’s back, Rook shook her head, willing him not to ask any questions. “Major, this is one of my associates, Harry Etheridge. Wait here with him. I’ll be right back.”
Rook strode back to Mitchell’s study and pulled Blake aside. “I’m going to go. I need to get a statement prepared and figure out who’s going to give it.” She gestured at the desk. “You think there’s anything else in there?”
“If there is, we’ll find it.”
“You have access to whatever resources you need. The suits are doing their thing an
d eventually they’re going to want in here, but I don’t want that letter to leave your sight. Understood?”
“Got it. Are they NSA?”
Rook flashed back to her conversation with Julia in the car. NSA had picked up chatter about the shooting when Mitchell’s wife placed a call to 911, bawling that she’d come home to find her husband lying dead in his study. Because Mitchell’s name was on the list of potential witnesses to be interviewed in the McNair case, whoever was monitoring the chatter ran the information up the line, all the way to Julia who’d sent in the troops, but instructed them Rook’s team would have carte blanche at the scene. She had no idea how they’d circumvented the local cops and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter though. We’re in charge. Consider yourself deputized by the president.”
“Deputized is a strong word,” Blake said. “It’s a suicide, not a crime scene.”
“Maybe not, but treat it like it is. Eric’s on his way over to copy all the hard drives. Have him search for any reference to Zoey on any of the computers here at the residence.”
“Zoey?”
Rook silently cursed the misstep. “Major Granger. She’s a key to whatever’s going on.” She pressed on. “Bonus points if Eric can bust the Pentagon’s firewall and connect to Mitchell’s account there. If we assume no one there knows he’s dead yet, we should have a little time to gather what we can.”
“On it.” She waved Rook toward the door. “Go on, we got this.”
Rook walked back through the house toward the front door where Zoey was waiting. She had full confidence in her team, but under normal circumstances she would stay here with them, triaging information as it was gathered. But the circumstances weren’t normal and one of the key pieces of information was Zoey Granger. Whether she knew it or not, Zoey held some piece to the puzzle and it was up to Rook to coax it forward.
Zoey was standing straight and tall, but her hooded eyelids and mussed hair gave away her worry and exhaustion. Rook took her arm again and guided her out of the house and into the waiting car. Zoey didn’t protest when she pulled a blanket from behind the seat and tucked it around her. It wasn’t until Rook told George to take them back to her place that Zoey came alive.
“I need to go to the office,” she said, her eyes wide and darting.
Rook put a hand on her leg. Zoey might be used to seeing the carnage of battle, but this death, so out of context, seemed to have taken her completely off guard. “You’ve suffered a bit of a shock. Let me take you back to my place and get you warmed up and then we can sort out the best plan.”
“There is no best plan. I need to prepare a report.” She gripped Rook’s hand. “Did you get a copy of the letter? They’re going to want to see it.”
Rook stared into Zoey’s eyes. She detected fear, but she also saw a strong sense of determination. Zoey was driven by duty, but if she let a blind allegiance to authority guide her, there was a strong likelihood she would place herself in danger. The backseat of the car was no place for this conversation, so she needed to stall. “The…uh, police need to catalog everything. I asked them to hurry. They should be finished soon so why don’t you wait with me? I need to check in with Julia and she’s probably going to want to talk to you too. We can make the call from my place and then do whatever we need to do after together. Okay?”
Zoey seemed relieved at the suggestion she didn’t have to face whoever with whatever the letter meant on her own. She nodded and sank back against the seat, pulling the blanket tight around her. In that moment, Rook was filled with a strong desire to protect Zoey from whatever came next, whether it was threats from Mitchell or repercussions for not reporting Mitchell’s death to her commanders. Rook only hoped Zoey would forgive her when she learned their investigation had turned in a whole new direction and Zoey was no longer in charge.
Chapter Fourteen
“Would you like me to park the car and help you in?”
Rook looked out the window at the sound of George’s soft-pitched question, surprised to see they were already in front of her townhouse. She glanced over at Zoey. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting against her shoulder. She hated to bother her, but they couldn’t just sit out in the car. “If you don’t mind getting the front door, I think I can handle the rest.”
She kept an arm around Zoey until they were inside where she eased her onto the couch, the blanket still wrapped around her. Rook smoothed out the blanket and murmured softly to ease her back to rest. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Zoey’s eyes were closed again, and Rook dropped a quick kiss on her forehead before she strode off toward her study.
She should make this call from the office where she knew the phones were secure, but she wasn’t about to leave Zoey alone so she decided to risk it. Julia answered on the first ring.
“What the hell, Rook? I thought one of your signatures was discretion. What did you say to this guy that had him eating his own gun hours later? This isn’t going to stay quiet for long.”
Rook took a deep breath. Julia was right. No matter what steps they took, the human element meant someone was going to talk about what had happened tonight at the Mitchells’ house. The wife, the kids, possibly a neighbor who’d overheard the sound of the shot that tore through Mitchell’s brain. Who would blab wasn’t the issue, but it was only a matter of time before someone burst from the strain of keeping a juicy secret. “You’re right. The story will break soon, so we need to work fast. He didn’t leave a suicide note per se, but he did leave a letter. It’s vague, but loaded with clues, and I’m working on it.”
“Clues? Are you saying this wasn’t really a suicide?”
“Blake says there’s no question he fired the shot.”
“She should know,” Julia said, echoing Rook’s thoughts. Blake had seen enough brutal killings in her capacity as a CIA operative to know how to read a crime scene. “Okay,” Julia said. “So, this guy was on your witness list and he offed himself. Any chance he was depressed about something else? Wife? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
“Remember I mentioned the clues?” Rook started at the sound of a loud clatter from the other room and she rushed to get off the line. “I’ve said as much as I can say right now, but there’s more to all of this than we originally thought. I’ll keep you posted.” She hung up before Julia could respond and dashed back toward the living room, but Zoey wasn’t there. She tried the kitchen next after matching the sound of the clatter with the sound of dishes and found Zoey standing by the sink.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quiet and still. “I knocked over a plate when I was trying to get a glass out of the cabinet.” She held up a small blue melamine dish. “Luckily, not breakable.”
Her lopsided smile tore at Rook’s heart and she stepped closer until they were only inches apart. She placed her hand over Zoey’s, eased the dish from her hand, and placed it on the counter. “Why don’t you go sit back down and I’ll get you something to drink?”
“I got it.”
“Seriously. It’s been a crazy long day. Let me help you out.”
“I don’t need your help.”
The strain in her voice belied the words and Rook reached for her arm. “Come on. I got this.”
Zoey jerked away. “I can get my own damn drink.” She started pacing. “And I can make my own decisions about who to call and what to report. I don’t appreciate you managing me. Is it because you hate the Army or is it just me you don’t trust?”
Warning bells sounded in Rook’s brain, and she cast about for ways to deescalate the situation. “I trust you. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have brought you to Mitchell’s house tonight. For that matter, I wouldn’t have you here in my house.”
Zoey shook her head. “It’s not your call whether I get to go to the house of a fellow service member.” She ticked off her points. “He was on my witness list. I was one of the last people he talked to. He left a note to me. He is my responsibility.”
Rook wishe
d she could turn back time and give Julia a big fat no instead of agreeing to work on this case. What in the hell had she been thinking? She had other clients, from large corporations to well-heeled celebrities and politicians who provided a steady run of work. It could only be hubris that made her cast aside her disdain for the military on an ask from the president. Did she honestly think getting involved with a case from the White House was going to be the pinnacle of her career? All it was going to do was crater her practice and drive a wedge between her and Zoey.
That last realization left her a little stunned. Why did she care about distance between her and Zoey? Zoey epitomized everything she didn’t like about the military from blind allegiance to orders to absolute faith in a system designed to fail from the sheer weight of covering its own tracks. Sure, Zoey had bucked the system a bit and become a whistleblower, but even that had been done through military channels. She wasn’t set up to see the bigger picture or relate to civilians in any way.
“Nothing about this investigation is yours,” Rook said. She heard the growl of frustration in her voice but didn’t care to hide it. “The military is an arm of the government, not the government itself. You don’t get to pick and choose who you investigate and who you don’t.” She stepped closer until they were inches apart. “You say it’s not my call? Well, it’s not your call either.”
“Maybe you should drop this case. Surely you have better things to do like prop up cheating husbands and drunk drivers?”
The words stung. Rook balked at Zoey’s barb, but she couldn’t deny the truth in her words. A large part of what she did seemed frivolous to some. She’d rationalized her work was important because she was there to help people in the midst of crisis when they were most vulnerable, but was her role as a savior diminished if the crisis was of their own doing? If so this case was no different. No one had made Bloomfield’s son risk his father’s future by purchasing the services of a call girl, but she’d shown up to help just the same. If Zoey couldn’t see the similarities between the cases Rook usually handled and this one, then they would never bridge the differences between them.