by Ross, JoAnn
She’d known that CDO Warren Wright had been with Ramsey for a decade. But the other names were a surprise.
“Okay, I may hate geometry, but this is interesting. And it’s more than a little suspicious that Lieutenant Commander Walsh didn’t mention having a connection with Ramsey when he knew we were going out to the carrier,” she said.
“Even more so when you figure he ate his gun right after we left.” Dallas pointed to another circle. “And check this out.”
The name was instantly familiar. “It’s that NCIS guy who visited us at the MCBH. The one with the red face, thinning hair, and growing middle.”
“Yep. Now, it’s possible that he didn’t want to mention the connection to the other guys because they had their own investigation going and wanted to beat us to the punch.”
“Or he could be involved. He wasn’t happy when his partner mentioned that the LT’s death might not be a suicide,” she remembered.
“Definitely not happy.”
He skimmed a hand down her arm, took her hand in his, and, still studying the monitor, rubbed his thumb across the center of her palm, which Julianne was suddenly discovering was an erogenous zone. Then again, so far she hadn’t found a place on her body that didn’t react to him.
“Adding the cover-up theory into our conspiracy equation, we could deduce that there was an initial crime committed—”
“Which wasn’t Lieutenant Murphy’s murder,” she followed his drift. “But the pregnancy.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Because we’re talking court-martial, right?”
“Absolutely, if it’s adultery.” Julianne thought about that for a moment. “But a conspiracy involves others and I still have a difficult time believing a military bond would be close enough to cause anyone to kill just to cover for a fellow sailor who’d gotten another sailor pregnant.”
She shook her head. “Would you kill for Tremayne, Garrett, or McKade?”
“I have,” he reminded her. “And I would again. Under the same circumstances.”
“That’s not my point.”
After three days of interrogation, she knew he’d never view his behavior that day as anything but absolutely correct. What he’d had no way of knowing at the time, and what she couldn’t have told him, was that she dearly hoped she would have behaved the exact same way.
“Let’s say that one of them had committed adultery.”
“None of them was married.”
She huffed out a frustrated sigh. “And I’m supposed to be the one who takes things too literally,” she muttered. “Let’s try this. Suppose one of them had been married and had an affair.”
“Never happen. They’re honorable. Loyal as German shepherds. And each of them is totally in love with his wife.”
“Hypothetically.” She pressed her case. “And to make things easier, let’s make up a battle buddy. We’ll call him Airman A. You’ve been on a lot of missions together. Drunk a lot of beer afterward. Maybe even spent leave at one or the other’s home, getting fed lots of cakes and cookies by Airman A’s mom.”
“I can go along with that.”
“Good. Now, let’s suppose that while you’re on shore leave—”
“I was in the Air Force. We don’t call it that.”
“You realize you’re driving me crazy.”
“I don’t recall you complaining an hour ago.”
“That was a good crazy. This is a grind-my-teeth-to-dust crazy. So, you’re on R and R. . . .”
She paused.
He nodded.
“Thank God,” she muttered. “So, on R and R you’re out with a bunch of fellow flyboys and flygirls.... What?” she asked when he grinned.
“Sorry. I was just thinking that it was funny how that expression changed over time. It was first used for the WASPs who test-piloted planes during World War Two, which is a long way from Jennifer Lopez shaking her booty on In Living Color.”
“You know, I do admire your ability for instant and permanent recall. But do you think you could possibly just think of one thing at a time?”
He stopped. The dark brows furrowed as he considered that idea.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted finally. “I think it’s my ability to think of lots of stuff at the same time that lets me do my job.”
Julianne thought about what the pilot had said about Tech Sergeant O’Halloran directing all that air traffic during the rapid invasion of Iraq and decided he might just be right.
“Okay. Like Oprah says, there’s no changing a man—”
“You watch Oprah?”
“Merry does.”
“Did you know her show’s the most popular one in Iraq?”
Okay. Although she’d been trying to stay on topic, that threw her offtrack. “At the bases?”
“No. With the civilian population. They might not have power twenty-four/seven, but they do have satellite dishes, so when the TVs work, the entire country is tuned to Oprah.”
Julianne found it amazing that an American talk-show host—albeit one with a massive audience—might be the one thing that could unite such a disparate, war-torn population.
“Getting back to my point, and I did have one: If Airman A and one of the flygirls—a woman pilot, not a TV dancer—go off, get a room for a few hours—”
“Which has been known to happen.” His grin, meant to bring up their past few hours, was quick and sexy as sin, which was the only reason she didn’t hit him.
“And said female pilot gets knocked up,” she deter minedly plowed on, grateful she’d never had to get him up on a witness stand, “and Airman A asked you to kill her to cover it up, would you?”
“Hell, no.”
Finally! Julianne was so grateful for the straight-to-the-point response, she nearly wept.
“Exactly. I can’t imagine anyone doing such a thing.”
“Now, this wouldn’t be a motive for me,” Dallas insisted. “But, since we’re talking hypothetically, if Airman A was higher up on the food chain, and looking at a promotion that would get him a super gig in the Pentagon or even maybe the White House—”
“And you were in a position to ride his coattails.” This time it was Julianne who interrupted him.
“I’ve always thought the power behind the throne actually wields the most power. But, like I said, even if we’d pricked our fingers and done the pinkie blood-brothers swearing thing, I’d have to tell Airman A it was his duty to clean up his own mess.”
“And if the pregnant flygirl turned up dead? Under suspicious circumstances?”
He winced at that. Knowing that MAs and JAG officers were not the most beloved members of the military, Julianne understood the moral dilemma going through that complex mind.
“I’d have no choice but to report what I knew.”
When she’d met him, he’d been an uncooperative witness. But that one statement proved that it wasn’t merely loyalty that had had him stonewalling her at every turn, but honor. Something that, unfortunately, seemed to be lacking in the world these days.
Her father possessed it.
As did her brothers.
And Tom Draper, who’d go out in the middle of the night to bring her sister Mexican food.
Dallas O’Halloran had it in spades.
“You’ve put Captain Ramsey at the center,” she noted.
“That’s because he’s got the most power. Especially since you told me that after finishing up this carrier duty he’s going to be promoted to flag rank.”
“And be able to choose his staff. Which could include all those other men.” She sighed heavily. “He could be the father.”
“He’s the one I’d put my money on.”
“And you believe they were protecting him?”
“I believe it’s possible. And the best scenario we’ve come up with so far.”
“What a waste, if it’s true. If you factor the commander at Pearl into the equation, that makes three people dead—”
“Three that we know
of, so far,” he pointed out.
“True. But if we’re right about motive, they all died for ambition.”
“That’s usually the case, unfortunately,” Dallas said. “Sometimes religious twists are put on wars, like with a jihad, or the Crusades, but the fact is that wars are fought because people in power want more power. And what the other guy has. Whatever excuse you want to make, it always boils down to greed. Hell, even our own country ended up being established because some crazy, greedy king couldn’t keep from raiding his colony.”
His take on the subject, while admittedly simplistic—and surprisingly succinct for him—was, unfortunately, something Julianne could agree with.
“So,” he said, “you’re the lawyer. How much power do we have to nail these guys?”
Julianne was about to respond when her phone rang.
Afraid it was Merry, she raced into the other room and dug it out of her bag.
“Decatur,” she answered when the caller ID read, UNDISCLOSED CALLER.
“It’s Captain Roberts,” the voice on the other end announced.
“Yes, Captain?”
Dallas had put on a pair of gray knit briefs and come into the living room of the suite.
“I stayed on board,” the doctor was saying, “to get ready for the onslaught of civilians, and had allowed myself a brief nap when I had a dream.”
Momentarily distracted by her partner’s mouthwatering male glory, she responded, “I see. I’m assuming it’s about the LT’s death?”
“No.” His usually calm tone vibrated with nerves. “It was about your sister.”
“My sister?”
Dallas frowned even as Julianne tried to remember if she’d even mentioned a sister. Yet as she’d discovered during this investigation, no one’s personal information was safe. If you knew where to look.
“I see smoke. And flames.”
It was just a dream. Julianne wasn’t even certain she believed in them.
“You said you have prophetic dreams during full moons,” she reminded him.
“That’s when they’re strongest,” he allowed. “But there are times when emotions are strong enough to get through. As they were in this case. I also saw men wearing camouflage.”
Again, not unusual for someone who’d spent ten months aboard an aircraft carrier.
“She was calling out for you. Said she was in terrible danger.”
“Is that so?” Julianne grabbed a pad and pen and scribbled a note to Dallas, asking him to get on the computer and see if Roberts and the captain had a past connection. Possibly this was just a ploy to get her off the ship and send her back to the States.
“She’s concerned about herself,” the man Dallas had insisted on calling the witch doctor said. “But, although this might not make any sense, she’s even more worried about the tadpoles.”
59
Christ, she was good. Dallas had known the news was bad when she’d gone pale as one of the soft-as-silk sheets on the bed and swayed.
But only for a second.
Then, as she shared what the doctor had claimed, she went into full-steam-ahead mode, speed-dialing her sister’s number.
“It dumped me into voice mail.”
“Maybe she’s on the phone.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced. Oddly, although he wasn’t a big believer in woo-woo thinking, Dallas hadn’t fully believed that when he’d suggested it.
“Wait a couple minutes and try again.”
The clock he’d always had in his head told her that she’d waited exactly two minutes.
“Still voice mail,” she said.
Another three minutes, four seconds.
“Dammit!” She, who, from what he’d been able to see, lost her cool only in bed, looked about ready to throw the phone across the room.
“Try her landline.”
“She doesn’t have one. Military families aren’t exactly rolling in dough, so she and Tom only have cell phones to save money.”
“Maybe she’s turned hers off.” He’d urged her down onto a rattan chair with a red-and-yellow sunburst upholstery when she’d first gotten dizzy. Now, standing beside her, he smoothed his hands over her shoulders in an attempt to ease out the knots of stress.
“I doubt that. Since she promised Tom—that’s her Marine husband, who just happens to conveniently be away on maneuvers—that she’d leave it on.”
“Maybe the battery ran down.”
“Maybe. But whenever she’s home, she plugs it into the charger. Because Tom worries.”
Again she sounded highly skeptical. Again he didn’t blame her.
“What kind of phone does she have?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It’s pink.”
“The phone? Or the skin?”
She shook her head. “I’ve no idea. Why?”
“Because, just in case something’s happened to her, we might be able to use GPS tracking to find her.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“It’s not exactly your realm of expertise.”
“But it’s yours.”
“Absolutely. Not all wireless network carriers provide updated location tracking, but most of the big ones have agreements with LBSs—location-based services—which are able to tell you the approximate last-known location of the person you’re tracking. But a lot depends on the type of phone Merry’s using. And the capabilities of her service provider. And whether she’s turned the tracking on.”
“I can’t see her thinking of doing that,” Julianne said. “But I wouldn’t put it past Tom. Not because he’s one of those possessive stalker husbands—”
“But because she’s pregnant. And, like you said, he cares about her.”
“He believes she hung the moon.”
“If she’s anything at all like her big sister, I can totally buy that.”
She almost smiled at that. Not quite, but close enough that he knew he’d made her feel, even for a second, a little bit better.
“But if her phone’s turned off, won’t the GPS be, too?”
“Not if it’s set up for passive tracking. That still works when the phone’s off. It’s a popular tool among government spook types.” He held out his hand. “Give me the phone. Let me talk to her service provider.”
After stating his credentials, telling the security rep what he wanted, and giving the name of a government contact person in Washington, he waited another fifteen minutes for the phone company to call him back.
Minutes Julianne spent pacing a path into the teak flooring that had been polished to a mirror shine.
She jumped when the theme song from JAG—what else, Dallas thought with a burst of fondness he’d never expected to feel for anyone—began playing.
The conversation was brief and to the point.
“Any reason she’d be at some place called Big Bear?” he asked with forced casualness. It sounded too rural. Somewhere a woman eight months pregnant with twins wouldn’t willingly go.
“No.” Although he wouldn’t have thought it possible, her face turned even whiter. “That’s a lake up in the mountains, which is, allowing for traffic, about two hours from Oceanside. She’s always loved it. But she’s hugely protective of her babies. She’d never risk going into labor that far from home.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and as close to being terrified as he ever hoped to see them.
“Oh, God. She’s in trouble.”
“I’ll call the local authorities,” he said. “Have them check on her.”
He did not try to reassure her. Because she was right: It didn’t look good.
This time the conversation was nearly as short as the one with the phone lady. The sheriff was sympathetic. But without any reason to believe Merry Draper was in danger, he couldn’t take any deputies off their more important duties to go look for her.
“What could be more important than a missing pregnant woman?” Julianne asked.
“They’re all on fire duty.” He
hated being the one to tell her. “Apparently, while we’ve been isolated aboard the boat, the Santa Anas have begun blowing. At the moment, they’ve got a thousand acres burning.”
“The doctor said he dreamed about smoke. And fire.”
“Yeah. Now, he might have seen the fires on the news. But there may also be something to that psychic stuff.”
“He wouldn’t have seen that Merry calls her babies tadpoles on any newscast,” she insisted. “But it doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone kidnap my sister?”
“It could be unrelated. And maybe she’s not kidnapped. Maybe someone just stole her phone.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She dragged her hands through her hair. Then she scrolled down through her phone numbers. “I made her give me her neighbor’s number,” she said. “I also made sure he and his wife had mine. Just in case.”
Again, this call proved no help.
“The husband’s on maneuvers with Tom. But his wife just checked. Merry’s car’s in the parking space. But she’s not there.” Her eyes were wide and Dallas hoped he’d never again see them that terrified.” She also found a bag of Mexican food lying on the sidewalk. On the way to the door.”
Which meant there was a good chance her sister actually was up at Big Bear.
Fortunately, Juls was one tough cookie. Dallas figured she could handle the unvarnished truth.
“Like I said, there are a lot of fires in the area. The sheriff told me Big Bear Lake is in danger of being surrounded.”
This time Julianne did not pale. Instead, she stood up, squared her shoulders, marched back into the bedroom, and returned with the suitcase she’d brought from the ship.
“Let’s get going,” she said.
“I’m already on it.” A moment later, he snapped the phone shut. “There’s a military jet waiting for us on the runway at Pearl.”
60
Worry and, worse yet, fear, which she was definitely not accustomed to feeling, permeated every atom in Julianne’s body. Making things worse was that even with the tailwinds, which the Navy pilot had told them they would be getting, it was still a four-and-a-half-hour flight to San Diego.
And another two hours to Big Bear. Probably longer if the authorities had begun blocking off roads, which she remembered them doing another time she’d lived in San Diego during fire season.