Every Secret Thing

by Rebecca Hartt

  He thought a moment. “The FBI has to realize Fitz was targeted for his investigation. Someone in the Bureau will take over.”

  “Possibly,” she agreed. “But Fitz was going to help Jaguar, and now he can’t.” The finality of Fitz’s death hit her suddenly, causing her to drop abruptly onto her couch.

  “You good?” Lucas asked, perhaps overhearing her movements.

  “Don’t worry about me. What are we going to do about Jaguar?”

  “The only thing we can do,” he replied on a grim note. “Convince the panel he’s innocent.”

  Charlotte considered the evidence they’d been allowed and their witnesses. “Do you really think he has a shot? Maybe we should bring up Dwyer’s connection to The Entity after all,” she suggested.

  “With what evidence?” Lucas countered. “We don’t have any.”

  “Right.” Plus, it was too late at this juncture to present evidence that hadn’t been approved.

  Charlotte’s shoulders fell. “There has to be something we can do.”

  “We can still pray.”

  He sounded so certain prayer would make a difference that Charlotte figured she’d give it a shot.

  “All right. I’ll pray, then,” she agreed. She drew in a breath and let it out again. “Lucas, you don’t think The Entity is going to target us next, do you?”

  Thoughtful silence followed her question. “I don’t see what it would gain them.”

  “We know about the warehouse.”

  “And we’ve told other people. The only way to contain that leak is to move the weapons elsewhere, which they’ve probably done by now.”

  “True,” she agreed. “Unless the police chief didn’t want to alarm his brother-in-law.”

  “I’m sure he told him. And I’m sure they’ve figured out I was one of the men who broke in.”

  In the background, she heard Monica vying for Lucas’s attention with words that weren’t quite audible over the phone.

  “I should let you go,” Charlotte offered, annoyed by the intrusion.

  “I’ll see you at the trial, though, right?”

  Lucas had asked the question as casually as possible, but Charlotte still heard his eagerness to see her, and her heart immediately warmed.

  “Of course,” she said. “Thursday at one o’clock in the courtroom down the hall from where I used to work.”

  “You mean they really let you go?” His tone let her know he thought NCIS was crazy.

  “Sure did. But that’s all right,” she added. “I’ve got other plans.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Besides, someone in NCIS works for The Entity, it would seem, so I wouldn’t go back there anyway.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  She wanted to reach through the phone for one of Lucas’s all-encompassing hugs. She missed everything about him—the low timbre of his voice, his clean scent, his faith that everything would work out.

  With an ache in her throat, she added, “See you soon, Lucas.”

  “See you,” he repeated, hanging up.

  Charlotte closed her eyes and held the cell phone against her empty heart. Am I doing the right thing, God? Lucas was a one-in-a-million kind of man. Walking away from him felt so wrong. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t be a field operative for the CIA while dating a Navy SEAL who lived in the USA. The only time they’d ever see each other was…never.

  That wasn’t what Lucas wanted or deserved. He’d said his wife could work, but he and any children needed to come first. That was never going to happen as long as Charlotte was a spy.

  With a long sigh, she put her cell phone away. At least she knew Lucas’s number now. Perhaps they could talk from time to time, remaining friends.

  I’ll see him on Thursday, she cheered herself. In the next instant, she thought of the stressful conditions under which they would meet. With Fitz dead, Jaguar could be sentenced to three years in prison and fined, all on top of being dishonorably discharged.

  “Not going to happen,” she muttered, remembering to pray. God’s mercy was Jaguar’s only hope at this juncture. Clasping her hands, she sent a silent but heartfelt prayer upward.

  The urge to expend some pent-up energy had her jumping up from the couch in search of her running shoes. Recalling the possibility that The Entity might be gunning anyone who knew about their facility in Sabena, she decided to run in the workout facility of her apartment and not on the boardwalk as she usually did.

  If only she could run from all of her present uncertainties.

  Chapter 16

  With one eye trained on the courtroom door, Lucas spotted Charlotte the second she entered, with less than a minute to spare before the trial was due to start. Pleasure flooded him at the sight of her out of her disguise. Wearing a lemon-yellow pantsuit, with her red hair recently trimmed into a sassy-short cut, she reminded him of a luminous flame.

  “Here she is,” he murmured to Saul.

  Rising partially, he caught her eye and waved her over. Her face lit up, and she started in his direction, only to slow her steps as she caught sight of Monica. With a sardonic tilt to her lips, she slipped into the space Lucas had saved for her. Monica stiffened on his other side. The two women exchanged looks while he sat between them, uncomfortable with the fact that Monica was still sporting his engagement ring.

  The latter hissed into his ear, “You have a new girlfriend already?”

  Wishing very much that he could answer, “Why, yes,” Lucas sent her an impassive look and said, “She’s a colleague.”

  As Monica drew a sharp breath and averted her face, Lucas turned his attention back to Charlotte.

  “How’s it going?” he asked, squelching the impulse to hug her.

  Her gaze caught and held his. “Good,” she said breezily, but the quick glance at his mouth betrayed the desire to kiss him. The telltale sign that she had missed him, too, made his heart skip.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” he said. In the past two days, he’d fretted something would happen to her, making him regret letting her take off with just the Gallstones for protection.

  “Are you safe, though?” she asked, widening her eyes and glancing pointedly at Monica’s left hand.

  Lucas had to laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my armor on,” he assured her under his breath.

  “Shield,” Charlotte corrected. “Captain America has a shield.”

  “Ah,” he said, grinning.

  His smile abruptly faded as Jaguar, looking sharp in his dress whites and, thankfully, free of handcuffs, stepped into the courtroom accompanied by Counselor Carew, whose big blue eyes made her look terrified in Lucas’s opinion. Jaguar, taking in the great number of SEALs present, drew to a halt as he realized his entire former troop was there to support him. Sending them all a nod of gratitude, he then went to greet his family, seated in the front row. He had only just torn himself away from them when the prosecutor stepped out from the opposite door, papers tucked under his arm and a confident smirk on his face.

  “That’s O’Rourke,” Lucas murmured into Charlotte’s ear. Tall and angular, with a large beaked nose, the military lawyer had a reputation for being ruthless and thorough.

  Charlotte assessed him a moment, then whispered into Lucas’s ear, “O’Rourke the Stork.”

  A snort of amusement escaped Lucas, causing Monica to glance at him sharply.

  “All rise,” intoned the naval ensign who was serving as the bailiff.

  Lucas and everyone else in the room stood as panel members filed out from the deliberations chamber. Lucas recognized the five men from the printout Counselor Carew had shown them at the pretrial hearing. He reminded himself that Rivera had vetted all of them as best he could, but any one of them could still have ties to The Entity.

  Captain Englert, the military judge, followed right behind them. Short and balding, he took his raised seat, prompting the panel members to sit, as well.

  “You may be seated,” he intoned, and in one
accord, everyone in the courtroom sat, including the two lawyers. An expectant hush fell over the white-walled chamber.

  The judge’s dour expression worried Lucas. He wondered whether Holland, the current base commander, might have prejudiced Englert to get this unpleasantness over with. Holland abhorred the fact that Jaguar’s charges reflected poorly on his naval annex.

  Addressing the panel members, Englert introduced the accused as Navy SEAL Lt. Jonah Michael Mills and his counsel, Lt. Commander Claudine Carew. He then instructed the court reporter to begin recording the events of the hearing.

  Englert addressed Jaguar next, asking if he wished to challenge any members of the panel.

  “No, sir,” Jaguar said, seemingly content with the lineup.

  Englert then gave his attention to swearing in the panel members.

  “Do you affirm that you will well and truly try and determine, according to the evidence to be disclosed between the United States of America and the person to be tried, that you will duly administer justice, without partiality, favor….” Lucas tuned out the remainder of the lengthy oath until it concluded. “So help you God.”

  “I do.” The courtroom echoed with the panel members’ affirmation.

  At long last, it was time for the trial to get underway. Captain Englert gaveled in, calling the court to order. Then he eyed the two lawyers. “You have five minutes each in which to give your opening arguments.”

  The prosecutor rose and addressed the panel. “Gentlemen, during the course of this trial, I will demonstrate that the defendant, Lieutenant Jonah Mills, is guilty of violating Article 128 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice for the reason that he was goaded by his Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder to willfully assault his commanding officer by firing a shotgun at him with the intent to injure him. Both men were off-duty at the time. This will be proven by his medical records, by forensic evidence gathered at the scene of the crime, and by the testimony of said commander and a firsthand witness. Prosecution will show this evidence is substantial enough to support a conviction of Lieutenant Mills and will call upon witnesses, Commander Daniel Dwyer and retired Navy SEAL Robert Fripp. If it please the court, I will reserve the remainder of my time for rebuttal.”

  Englert nodded. “Let the record show the prosecution reserves one minute for rebuttal.” He turned an expectant eye on Jaguar’s lawyer.

  Carew rose and gave her own opening argument, her voice ringing out with confidence Lucas suspected was counterfeit.

  “Your Honor, the defense will show that Lieutenant Jonah Mills is innocent of the offense of which he is charged. We will prove that the accusations brought against my client are all falsehoods meant to cover up his accuser’s blackmailing tactics. We will show my client fired only one shot and that it was in self-defense, that he was of sound mind, and that he acted in the best interest of the nation and the world at large.”

  Englert’s eyebrows rose as if Carew’s opening remarks struck him as over-the-top.

  “Indeed,” he said, looking back at the prosecutor. “The court will now hear from the prosecution’s first witnesses, Commander Schmidt, doctor of traumatology at the Portsmouth Medical Center.”

  Lucas elbowed Charlotte in order to convey, “Here we go.”

  Shooting him a quick smile, she promptly leaned against him so that their arms continued to touch. That simple contact, layered with her warmth and her familiar scent, rendered him utterly content. If only their present circumstances, including this gut-wrenching trial, would miraculously resolve, allowing him and Charlotte to remain together always.

  At long last, a full hour into the proceedings, it was Dwyer’s turn to take the stand. Charlotte had to admit the man looked every inch a Navy SEAL commander as he approached the witness box. At well over six feet, Dwyer cut a fine figure in his dress white uniform. Colorful service medals vied for space over his left front pocket. If he’d worn cowboy clothes, she mused, he would look very much like John Wayne, apart from the bushy mustache he sported, dyed several shades too dark to match his graying hair.

  The prosecution’s first two witnesses had just finished testifying. Dr. Schmidt, who was the first doctor to treat Jaguar following his reappearance, had summarized his medical reports stating that Jaguar had been diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder following a year-long captivity. Carew, in cross-examining, had asked him how long he had treated Lieutenant Mills.

  “Three days,” he’d said.

  Carew had just looked at him. “No more questions, Your Honor,” she’d said and sat down. Charlotte already knew Jonah’s psychologist, Dr. Branson, would refute Dr. Schmidt’s diagnosis, and Branson had worked with Jaguar for weeks.

  The next witness had been Bob Fripp, a former SEAL who worked at the skeet-and-trap range where the altercation between Jaguar and Dwyer took place. Fripp claimed he had opened the range for Dwyer on Labor Day, as a favor to his former leader. After identifying Lieutenant Mills as the accused, he’d explained how he’d kept score and triggered the remote while Mills and Dwyer shot a round of five stand. And then he’d testified that Dwyer had offered Lieutenant Mills the opportunity to return to active duty, a circumstance that prompted the lieutenant to go suddenly berserk, firing on the CO without provocation.

  All lies, Charlotte had thought, fuming inwardly.

  Carew had cross-examined Fripp by holding up a poster with a huge hole in it. “This is what skeet shot does when it’s fired at a distance of twenty feet,” she stated. “Mr. Fripp, how is it that Lieutenant Mills went ‘berserk,’ as you said, and fired at his CO without killing him?”

  Fripp had shrugged. “I never said he was tryin’ to kill him. I guess he just wanted to scare him.”

  The charge, Charlotte had recalled, was assault, not attempted murder. Carew had sputtered, “No more questions,” and sat down.

  Now Dwyer was beginning to spin the same yarn as his witness, while the prosecutor paced before him, feeding him well-rehearsed questions.

  “How would you describe the defendant’s demeanor that morning?” O’Rourke inquired.

  “Lieutenant Mills was jittery,” Dwyer said, shooting what might have passed for a look of apology at the very man he was accusing. “Not that I blame him, mind you. Can’t say I would have held up any better after a year of captivity and torture.”

  The Stork whirled to face his witness. “Then you were aware of Lieutenant Mills’s medical diagnosis regarding his PTSD?”

  “Of course.”

  “Yet, even in light of his diagnosis,” O’Rourke continued, “you offered Lieutenant Mills the chance to return to active duty. Is that right?”

  “Yes, I did. I informed him I was in need of a new executive officer, and I expressed my hope that he would take that position.”

  “Surely, he was grateful for such an offer.”

  “Objection,” Counselor Carew said again. “Prosecution is leading the witness.”

  “Sustained,” Englert decided.

  O’Rourke changed his comment into a question. “How did Lieutenant Mills react to your offer, Commander?”

  Dwyer shook his head, looking suddenly overwrought. “He started screaming nonsense about how he’d been abandoned and left for dead. And then he stalked off. When I called him back, seeking to placate him, he turned around and fired his weapon at me.”

  Dwyer lifted his bandaged right hand for everyone to see. “Nearly blew off my finger at that point.”

  Charlotte clicked her tongue in annoyance, prompting Lucas to lay a restraining hand over hers.

  “Did you then fire your own weapon to defend yourself?” O’Rourke prompted him.

  “Yes, of course, while taking cover to keep from being injured again. I knew he only had five shells in his shotgun. I figured if he used them all up, he’d pose less of a danger to himself, as well as to Bob and me.”

  Aware of Saul’s mounting tension, Charlotte glanced over and found him staring at Dwyer with such intensity, she half-expected Dwyer to detona
te.

  “Did Lieutenant Mills continue to fire, using every round at his disposal?” O’Rourke queried.

  “Yes,” Dwyer said, avoiding eye contact with Jaguar.

  “Liar,” Saul murmured under his breath.

  O’Rourke addressed the judge. “Your Honor, calling your attention to Exhibit A, you have a written statement from our forensic expert pairing spent shells with the shotgun that was fired by the accused.”

  Carew’s fraying bun popped up again. “Objection to the admissibility of evidence on the basis that it is unduly prejudicial, Your Honor. There are literally thousands of spent shells at a skeet-and-trap range and no fail-proof method of linking spent shells to my client’s weapon. Later, defense will show Exhibit B, a letter written by our own forensic expert stating as much.”

  “Objection noted,” Englert answered. “Is the prosecution finished?” Receiving a nod, he added, “The defense may cross-examine.”

  Carew stood up and opened her poster again with the gaping hole in it. “Commander, again, how could a Navy SEAL wielding a shotgun have managed not to put a hole this big in you?”

  Dwyer held up his bandaged thumb. “He nearly blew my hand off.”

  “Uh huh.” Carew put her poster down and changed tactics. “Commander, kindly express for the court your views on national defense.”

  With a puzzled glance at his lawyer, Dwyer supplied an answer anyone would expect of a squadron commander.

  Charlotte sighed inwardly. If only they could bring up Dwyer’s ties to The Entity. Even knowing of Fitz’s death, Carew still refused to bring it up. For one thing, they had no evidence. For another, the FBI wouldn’t thank her for disrupting an ongoing investigation should another agent pick it up.

  “Did you or did you not tell Lieutenant Mills on the day of the incident that what our nation needs are more operators like you and less politicians running the country?”

  Dwyer shrugged. “I may have said something along those lines.”