by Laura Scott
Mason lunged from the car, wearing running shorts and a gray Army T-shirt damp with sweat. Eyes wide, he glanced at Everett, then turned his focus to his quarters.
“It’s Tammy, isn’t it? What happened? Is she hurt?” Breathless, he raced to the back door.
“A neighbor heard screams.” Everett hated being the bearer of bad news.
“She called me, distraught. I heard a voice in the background.” Mason pushed open the door and charged into the kitchen.
Everett followed. Unwashed dishes sat in the sink.
“Tammy, where are you?” Mason ran through the living room, then rounded the corner into the foyer. Stopping short, he staggered to brace himself against the wall.
“No!”
Everett’s gut tightened. A woman lay sprawled at the foot of the stairs, her face contorted in death. Blood pooled under her head.
He felt her neck, knowing instinctively he wouldn’t find a pulse.
Mason fell to the floor and reached for his wife, a scream keening from deep within him.
“Don’t touch—” Everett couldn’t warn Mason fast enough.
The husband’s broken sobs echoed in the quarters.
Everett had been at too many crime scenes, but none as wrenching as Mason holding his wife’s lifeless body.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and opened the front door. Frank stepped inside, face tight and eyes brimming with the same emotion Everett felt as they shook their heads with regret. Both special agents were aware of the significance of Mason’s arrival on-site. If he hadn’t been home, then someone else had argued with his wife. Someone who may have pushed or shoved or thrown Tammy Yates down the stairs to her death.
Everett raised his cell and called CID Headquarters. “Notify the military police. We’ll need a crime-scene investigation team, ambulance and the medical examiner.”
Frank patted Mason’s shoulder. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you into the other room. The MPs are on the way along with the ME.”
Mason shook off the attempt to comfort him. “Tammy,” he moaned, pulling his wife even closer into his arms.
“You need to step away from your wife. Remember, we have to preserve evidence if we’re going to catch this guy. Come on, buddy. Let’s head into the other room.”
Mason shrugged out of Frank’s hold and glanced at the open doorway. His face twisted in rage.
“What’s she doing here?”
Everett turned to see the neighbor cover her mouth and muffle a cry of disbelief. Fear flared from her eyes.
“Ma’am, I asked you to remain in your quarters.”
She pointed a finger at Mason, the distraught husband holding his wife’s bloodied body, and screamed.
Copyright © 2015 by Deborah W. Giusti
ISBN-13: 9781460389065
Forgotten Memories
Copyright © 2015 by Laura Iding
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