Yellow Ribbons

by Caitlyn Willows

  “Rested?” Greg asked.

  “Yes. Thanks.” He squatted down next to them. “What are we doing? Flowers or vegetables.”

  “A little of both,” Lani replied.

  “Okay.” He picked up a trowel and dug in with them.

  “Lani and I talked about your theory, and we don’t necessarily disagree.” Greg gave him their breakdown of possibilities.

  Jordan relaxed a little more with every word. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s plausible. Considering the inconsistencies between the scenes, it makes sense the murders aren’t related.”

  “We have to be careful with how we proceed.” Lani stabbed her shovel into a fresh section of dirt. “I don’t want accusations to fly without solid evidence to support them. I also don’t want Pattison and Juarez snooping around. This is Marine Corps business.”

  “I agree one hundred percent on that one.” Jordan’s cell phone rang the instant the words came out. He plucked the device from its belt pouch and glanced at caller ID. “Speak of the devil.” He punched a button. “Hey, Ron… We’ve processed the scene on base… Not related… It’s a different killer… Yeah, very odd… No… No… We already have a suspect. No, not in custody.”

  Greg watched Jordan’s scowl deepen. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what Pattison had to say either. Personal and professional relationships had taken a hit these last few days. He tried to eavesdrop—as did Lani, who’d kept her movements to a bare minimum and crept a little closer. But Pattison’s voice didn’t carry over the phone. They had to depend on Jordan to brief them, trust he’d give the details. Greg wasn’t sure they’d ever fully trust him again.

  He and Lani jumped when his own cell rang. Dread seeped in. First Pattison’s long-winded, one-sided conversation. Then Jordan’s glower. Was this call to report another murder?

  He glanced at caller ID and breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s Corporal Shepard’s husband,” he told Lani. “I left a message about Mita once I knew he’d been notified.” He turned his attention to his phone and answered the call. “Master Gunnery Sergeant Landess…”

  “This is Sergeant Shepard.” The voice on the other end quivered. “I understand you have my Mita.”

  By those words alone—my Mita, not my dog—Greg knew the man wanted her back. “I do, and she’s doing very well. Although I think we may have spoiled her a little.”

  “Easy to do, since she’s so sweet. I hated like hell to leave her with Jeanette, but it wasn’t negotiable. Now…” He drew a shaky breath.

  Greg couldn’t offer platitudes of it wasn’t your fault when he felt that Sergeant Shepard’s actions had led to his wife’s death. “When would you like to come get her?”

  “Tomorrow? I have to come up and take care of things.”

  “She’ll be at the office with me. See you there.”

  Greg let his head droop when he ended the call. Emotion threatened to clog his throat. He’d gotten too attached, too quickly. Lani brushed her hand over his back, her chin resting on his shoulder. He’d never heard her move.

  “I know,” she said. “It’s hard. She captured my heart too.”

  “Well, so much for…” Jordan’s hand stopped shy of reseating his phone. “Something wrong?”

  “Sergeant Shepard is coming to get Mita tomorrow. We’re going to miss her is all. The two of us are suckers for animals.” Lani gave Greg a wink. “Some of us more than others.” She kissed his cheek and returned to her plot of garden.

  Greg picked up his shovel. “So what was that all about?”

  Jordan shoved his phone in place. “Pattison’s releasing the crime scenes. They went over everything again and found no other evidence to refute the witness statement or evidence they currently have. Since our case isn’t related, end of story.”

  “Apparently so.” His shovel hit yet another rock, the remnants of what appeared to be a wall someone had created a long time ago. Greg had a stack of them he planned to reuse.

  “Thanks for taking me in this morning.” Jordan plucked errant weeds from around the foundation. “For helping cook my half-baked theory. I’m sorry for the trouble I caused between the two of you yesterday. I feel especially bad, now that I see you’re in love with each other. Can I claim lack of sleep as my defense?”

  “You can claim anything you want.” Greg rolled a watermelon-size rock from the sand. They wouldn’t be forgetting or forgiving anytime soon. “Doesn’t make it right.”

  “Maybe I can make up for it. I’d like to put this behind us and move on.”

  Greg leaned into his shovel and stared into the hole the rock created. “How do you propose to do that?”

  Lani sat on her heels, waiting for the response.

  “I-I have no idea.” He shrugged his palms. “Cover for you?”

  “Because you’re so damn trustworthy and everyone believes everything you say.” Greg stabbed his shovel into the bag of mulch.

  “I should go.” Jordan brushed the sand off his knees as he stood.

  “No.” Lani tugged the leg of his jeans. “Stay for dinner. Stay for the night. If anyone says anything about that, we can tell them we were discussing the case.” She pulled off her leather gloves and shoved them into her back pocket as she stood. “I’ve got a roast to put in the oven. Coming, Mita?”

  The dog beat her to the door.

  “How much longer do you think the two of you can keep this a secret?” Jordan asked after she left.

  “Forever.”

  “That’s a hell of a long time to live a lie.”

  A hell of a long time. Greg loved her. Lani deserved better than a life lived in secret. A life where they constantly had to look over their shoulders for fear of discovery. And he was going to try to see she got it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lani leaned against the back door. Forever was a long time to live a lie. It was also a long time to live without Greg. She’d rather have the lie than give him up. The hurdles of what the future held weighed her down. What happened when one of them got orders? The chances of them being stationed together were remote. There were only so many strings she and Greg could pull to be collocated before someone got suspicious. Long-distance relationships were hard to maintain. How many faltered during deployments? She and Greg were looking at years of secrecy. At least twelve until she could retire. It seemed an eternity.

  Mita danced between Lani and the kitchen, reminding Lani of her original goal.

  “You realize the chances of you getting a taste are zero.”

  The little dog sat, her stubby tail wiggling and her eyes ever hopeful. She’d never give up, no matter the obstacles.

  Lani smiled. “I could learn a lot from you, little girl.”

  Mita dashed to the kitchen and resumed her pose.

  “Well, maybe a little taste.”

  She focused on the facade of normalcy, of domesticity, working on the roast while her mind played with plans for their garden. “Too bad you’re not staying, Mita. We could use your defense support outside. Once the critters get a whiff of stuff growing, they’ll launch an attack. They wouldn’t dare with a fierce defender like you. Got any friends you can send our way?”

  “God, I love you.”

  Lani jumped at the sound of Greg’s voice. He stood braced against the doorjamb, watching.

  “How long have you been eavesdropping?”

  He grinned as he walked her way. “Long enough.” He slipped his arms around her waist and hugged her against him. “Marry me, Lani.”

  “What?” Her knife clattered into the sink. Carrots she’d cut scattered across the counter.

  He turned her around. “Marry me, Lani.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Her heart beat so hard, she could barely breathe.

  “I’m going to put in retirement papers first thing in the morning. We’ll get married.” He shoved the rest of the carrots to one side and lifted her effortlessly to the counter.

  “They’ll crucify me, Greg.�
�� So why was she holding on to his shoulders, spreading her knees to bring him as close as possible? “They’ve done it before in less volatile times than now. Remember that major and the staff sergeant?”

  “We’ve been doing this for six months. We can do another.”

  She frowned, shook her head. “I don’t follow.”

  “Jordan.” He jerked his head toward the backyard. “He said he’d do anything to make up for what he did. We wait six months, then we start dating openly. Jordan will tell everyone the two of you were together and it didn’t work out.”

  “Are you crazy? He was ready to screw us over, and now you want to trust him?” Was it any bigger risk than what they’d already faced?

  “I want you with me forever, Lani. Out of the shadows, so the whole world can see how crazy in love with you I am.” He pressed his crotch into hers, hard and hot. She damned the jeans that kept them apart. “I want dogs and cats, birds and babies.”

  “Babies?”

  “The two of us together would make very beautiful babies. We’re a team, sweetheart. We’re meant to be. Marry me.” One hand splayed her ass, the other her head. “Marry me.” The words whispered over her lips. Lani gasped and closed the distance, gliding her tongue over his, clutching his blue flannel shirt in a tight-fisted grip.

  “Uhm…guys…”

  Greg lifted his mouth far enough to say, “Go home, Jordan.”

  Not exactly the right attitude to have when you were about to ask a big favor of someone. Lani punched Greg’s shoulder, reminding him of his manners. He conceded the point with a disgruntled grimace.

  “None of us are going anywhere right now.” Jordan pointed toward the front of the house. “I spotted a car coming down the road. A dark green SUV.”

  “Can’t be for here.” Greg helped Lani down. “No one comes out here without calling first.”

  Jordan lifted his eyebrow. “Like me?”

  They darted to the window, squinting at the dust trail in the afternoon sunlight. The SUV topped a small rise. There was a familiarity about it Lani couldn’t place.

  “It’s Nerine Kenyon,” she realized aloud. “Why is she coming here? Do you suppose something’s wrong?”

  “Something’s not right, otherwise why come all the way out here?”

  “Call me paranoid,” Jordan said, “but I’d feel more comfortable if I were armed.”

  “I agree.” Greg let the curtain drop. “Let’s arm. I’ll get my weapons from the gun safe for me and Lani. Since we’re all here under the presumption of talking shop, I’m hoping she won’t think anything of the holsters.”

  “Or that I’m cooking dinner?” Lani followed Greg into the bedroom. “You two are being ridiculous. This is Nerine we’re talking about. Soccer mom, PTA, spouses’ club, super mom. Maybe she’s come here for comfort or information. Her husband was our boss. We were colleagues.”

  He passed her a holster for her lower back and a revolver. “She came out here in the middle of nowhere where I live alone. She didn’t call. She’s not supposed to be in town until tomorrow, and she’s supposed to be staying with the Seabergs. It’s off. I don’t like off right now.” Greg walked by her, strapping on his weapon as he returned to Jordan.

  “Let’s not alarm her or tip our hand. Keep the holsters covered, and don’t turn your back on her. This could be something, or it could be nothing. We take no chances. As for dinner… People gotta eat. Right, Mita?”

  She barked and ran back to the kitchen. Lani stood watch at the window while the men armed. By now Nerine would see the other vehicles at Greg’s house. Maybe she’d drive on and come back when she was certain Greg was alone.

  Paranoia grew. Maybe Nerine had killed her husband and come here to confess to Greg. Everyone told Greg everything. No judgments, only solutions. Greg’s claim to fame. Nerine did have motive. Her husband’s affair.

  Maybe it wasn’t her. Other people lived in this area.

  Then the SUV slowed to make the final turn into Greg’s driveway. Lani tensed, grappling for the holster at her back, her gaze never leaving the approaching vehicle.

  Greg tucked his flannel shirt over his weapon and strode to the door. He was outside before Nerine could pull to a stop next to Jordan’s car. The woman looked like shit.

  Sunglasses covered half her face; her long brown hair had been swept into a ponytail. Her chin quivered when she looked at Greg. A nod acknowledged him, then Lani saw the utter relief on her face when Greg opened her door. She tossed her arms around him, clutching him tight. She looked like she’d never let go. Guilt nipped at Lani, and both men were going to get an earful when they were alone. Nerine was grief stricken and had come here for solace. They’d greeted her with weapons. Hidden weapons, but armed nonetheless.

  Nerine nodded again at something Greg said and glanced toward the house. More quivers shook her chin as she draped her purse strap over her shoulder and started for the door. Lani dashed out the door and met her halfway, wrapping her arms around her. Nerine slumped into the embrace.

  “Let’s get you inside.” Lani led her toward the house. “No one was expecting you until tomorrow.”

  “It was a long drive. I knew there’d be a lot to do, and I wanted to start bright and early. The drive from San Diego was a killer.”

  “Did you call the Seabergs?”

  Nerine shook her head. “I won’t be staying with them. It’s too awkward. I need to be alone.”

  “Come sit. Would you like something to drink? Eat? We’ll get you some iced tea, fresh brewed. Chocolate chip cookies.”

  Nerine managed a trembling smile. “Did you make them? You do make the best cookies.”

  “Not this time.” She squeezed a hug around Nerine’s shoulders and guided her toward the table. “How about a sandwich? We’ve got leftovers from a great ham we had last weekend.” She realized the implications too late but kept making her way to the refrigerator rather than try to cover her tracks.

  “It was great,” Jordan jumped in. “Most potlucks are salad and dessert. Lani brings ham.”

  “Gotta love a woman who brings her own meat to a party.” She heard the humor in Greg’s voice.

  “That’s what I’m sayin’,” Jordan shot back.

  She glanced around in time to see the two doing their fist bump. It was a nice save, a good distraction to make Nerine think things were the same as always. It might have worked if the action had transmitted to their expressions. Their smiles were forced, and tension radiated from their shoulders.

  “Well, she certainly does know how to make herself at home in someone else’s kitchen.” Hands pressed to her lumbar, Nerine arched her back. Bones and tendons popped. “I’ve never heard anyone complain, and we’ve all been here enough times to know where everything is. A ham sandwich would be lovely. Cute dog.” Nerine dropped her purse on the floor and sank into the chair.

  “Greg’s babysitting.” She didn’t need to know the details of Mita’s stay. It might only upset her more. “She loves attention.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Smiling, Nerine bent down to indulge the dog.

  Lani served the iced tea then busied herself making the sandwiches while Mita broke the tension with demands for petting. Trite phrases came to mind. The normal litany of how was your trip, sorry for your loss—words people threw out to cover awkward moments. Lani left them unsaid. The men weren’t talking either. They flanked Nerine, sitting on opposite sides of the table, on alert but not as tense as when they’d first seen her coming down the dirt road.

  Lani put the small platter of sandwiches in the center of the table and let them have at it. It was second nature for her to feed people. Cooking was in her blood. Anything leftover she’d take for lunch. Judging from the lack of enthusiasm—only Nerine ate—she’d be eating ham sandwiches for the rest of the week.

  Greg rattled the ice in his glass. “Long drive. Why didn’t you call? Big risk that I’d be here.”

  “I decided to take my chances.” Nerine set her sandwich dow
n and gripped her hands on her lap. Lani noticed they were shaking, and her posture was ramrod straight. Her gaze never left the open drapes and the view of the naked mulberry tree outside. “I wanted to talk to you. I didn’t realize anyone else would be here.”

  “We were discussing work,” they said together. The words came so fast, they had to have been seen for the lie they were.

  “It’s just as well.” Nerine pulled in a shaky breath and looked around, her gaze drifting from one to the other. “Please understand that this is a very private issue. I’d prefer Mick’s command not know about it. I trust your discretion. Yours too, Lani. Jordan, I don’t know you all that well, but…” She shrugged one shoulder.

  “I could have come to you.” Greg leaned his forearms on the table.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I wanted privacy. There’s no place more private than here.”

  Until their recent influx of visitors, Lani might have agreed.

  “Wes Seaberg has kept me apprised on the status of the investigation.” Nerine swallowed.

  Greg pulled half a sandwich from the platter. “Detectives Pattison and Juarez would be better able to give you a detailed report. I believe they’ve released the scene. Pending the autopsy and processing evidence—”

  A slash of her hand ordered him to stop. “I concede it might be possible that Mick committed suicide. What I find impossible to believe is that he killed two other people. He had no reason to see Regina Whittaker and Staff Sergeant Tipton dead. The child she was carrying didn’t belong to my husband.”

  “Vasectomy?” Jordan asked.

  Nerine lifted her chin. Tears filled her eyes. “No. My husband told me he was gay. It’s why I left. He fell in love with someone and wanted to be with him. Everything made horrid sense when he told me. I was devastated. I couldn’t face anyone, though I was finally able to use the excuse of his drinking as my reason for leaving. I don’t know how those bloody clothes got in our house. All I know is that Mick didn’t do this. I’d be more inclined to believe his lover left him and Mick went off the deep end emotionally.”