Silent Witness

by Lindsay McKenna

  Cochrane held his credentials in front of the officer. “I’m Lieutenant Cochrane and this is Agent Tanner. May we come in?”

  Kane stepped aside only after he’d raked them with a glare. “You’re coming in whether I want you to or not.”

  “We could do this at another time, if this isn’t convenient,” Cochrane offered.

  “No. Let’s get this the hell over with.”

  Cochrane heard the tension and bitterness in Brad’s voice as he checked out the hotel room. A small duffel bag sat on the neatly made bed. An acrid odor permeated the room, and he saw a smoking cigar balanced across a drinking glass on the table. Brad Kane didn’t seem to care that this was a non-smoking room.

  Kane stood stiffly by the door after he closed it, surveying them as if they were enemies. Cochrane supposed they were, in one sense. The officer was about six feet tall, physically fit, and Cochrane guessed that most women would find him heart-stoppingly handsome, with those frosty blue eyes, strong nose and imperious mouth—the picture-poster image of the Naval aviator ideal.

  “Let’s make this short, Lieutenant. I’ve got a hop to catch.”

  “I know,” Cochrane said, pulling out a set of papers. He’d seen Kane’s fingers tremble briefly on the cigar, but that wasn’t unusual. Landing a multimillion dollar machine on a carrier deck made a lot of pilots’ hands shake.

  Jim sat down at the table and spread the papers out before him. When he put the small tape recorder between them and glanced up, he saw Kane’s icy look change to a laserlike glare.

  “Is that necessary?” Kane demanded.

  “I’m afraid it is, Commander. We don’t pretend to rely on our memories.”

  “Let’s just get this over with then.”

  Cochrane remained unruffled as the aviator spun around and stalked toward the door. For a man who had just lost his sister, Brad wasn’t exactly the epitome of grief-stricken. Ellen sat down to take notes and observe his questioning technique of Kane.

  “When was the last time you were in contact with your sister, Commander?”

  “Telephone, letter or in person?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Any or all of the above.” Cochrane held the officer’s pointed, angry look.

  With an exasperated sound, Brad jammed the cigar into the corner of his mouth and settled his hands tensely on his hips. “It was a long time ago, Lieutenant Cochrane. I don’t remember exactly when.”

  Cochrane held on to his anger. The aviator was purposefully being vague, but Jim had experienced this tactic during many investigations. “Commander, can you be more specific as to what type of contact you had most recently with Susan?”

  Puffing strongly on the cigar, so more clouds of smoke drifted around his head, Kane snarled, “A letter from her, I guess. Maybe six months ago.”

  “Do you still have the letter?” Cochrane inquired smoothly.

  “Hell no! I live out on a carrier, mister. Even you shore huggers know there’s no room on board for many personal effects.”

  Cochrane remained impervious to the man’s agitation. “Do you remember the contents of the letter?”

  “Of course not! Six months is a damn long time in my business.”

  Ellen coughed, stood up and went to stand next to the window. With her fingers against her throat, she said, “Commander, do you remember the tone of Susan’s letter?”

  His thin lips clamped the cigar. “No. Just what the hell does this have to do with her dying?”

  “We’re trying to find out the circumstances of your sister’s death,” Ellen said more firmly, then coughed again. “And we’re not sure it’s suicide yet.”

  Kane sucked heavily on the cigar and turned on his heel. “Susan and I weren’t in touch with each other very much at all. I saw her in person two years ago, but that’s the last time.”

  “Commander,” Ellen said gently, breaking the tension, “do you know if Susan had a significant other?”

  “If she did, I wasn’t privy to that information.”

  “Was she a lesbian?” Cochrane asked.

  “Just what the hell kind of question is that?” Kane’s face went black with fury.

  Cochrane held the officer’s angry stare. “Just answer the question, sir.”

  “I don’t know.” The words came out like ice shattering.

  “Aren’t you interested in how your sister died?” Cochrane asked.

  Brad jammed the cigar back into his mouth and bit down on it, his teeth barred. “Not particularly. The Red Cross contacted me and said she’d died. It wasn’t until I arrived stateside that I heard it could have been a suicide or a murder.”

  Cochrane reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo. He stood and walked over to the pilot. “Here, take a look.” He thrust out the color picture of Susan dead, on her bed, holding the teddy bear.

  Kane blanched visibly as he stared at it. He refused to take it, even though Cochrane continued to hold it out to him. His eyes widened momentarily, flaring with surprise. “Jesus H. Christ!” he snarled, and turned away. “That’s enough, Lieutenant!”

  Jim heard the strain in the aviator’s baritone voice. So, Kane was affected.

  Jim placed the photo back in his shirt pocket. “What does the teddy bear mean?”

  His face taut, Kane swung around as if stung. “Get out of here,” he rasped. “Get the hell out.”

  Cochrane held his ground. “Not until you tell us what that stuffed bear means, Commander.”

  Kane looked over at Tanner, and then back at Cochrane. He took the cigar out of his mouth, and his broad, proud shoulders slumped. “The bear was a gift from our birth mother to Susan. She bought the damn thing before Susan was born. She said every child should have a stuffed toy, a friend, something to be close to. When things went wrong, Susan would always hold the bear and cry.”

  “I find it odd she’d die with the bear in her arms, don’t you?” Cochrane asked.

  Small beads of sweat covered Kane’s furrowed brow, and he was breathing erratically. His blue eyes were stormy and filled with an emotion Cochrane couldn’t fathom. He waited patiently as Kane wrestled with what were obviously violent feelings.

  “Susan dragged that damn thing around with her everywhere.” With a muffled curse, Kane moved around him and went over to the bed where his travel bag sat. “I’m concluding this interview, Lieutenant Cochrane.” Glancing at his watch, he snapped, “And I’ve got a plane to catch.” He doused the cigar in the water glass and threw the strap of his bag across his left shoulder. “First,” he said frostily, “I’m going to say goodbye to my father. If you have anything else to ask, you can contact me on the carrier. Is that clear?”

  Cochrane walked to the table and put his pen down on the papers. “Perfectly, Commander. Thank you for your time. Tell your father we’ll be up shortly to interview him.” Jim shut off the tape recorder.

  Kane walked to the door, jerked it open and left.

  After the officer departed, Ellen ventured, “Wow! One hell of a interview! I never expected that kind of reaction. Did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. But Ann Hawkins warned us, you know.”

  “Yes, she did.” Frowning, Ellen said, “Don’t you find it odd that Brad hadn’t been in touch with Susan recently? Doesn’t it make sense that if she was suicidal, she’d automatically reach out to her family?”

  “Normally, I’d say yes. But if the family didn’t love her, as Hawkins claimed…”

  Ellen snorted.

  “Most families aren’t fairy-tale perfect, you know,” he added.

  “I find it impossible to believe that one of these three men didn’t know what was happening with Susan. Don’t you?”

  Cochrane looked at his watch. “I don’t know yet. I’m going to give Robert Kane another ten minutes before we walk up to the fifth floor. It’s my guess that retired Captain Kane doesn’t like meeting people earlier than scheduled.” Jim studied Ellen. “Judging from what Hawkins told us about the Kane family yesterday, I don’t t
hink we should automatically assume Susan contacted them.”

  With a fierce shake of her head, Ellen muttered, “I find it impossible to believe she didn’t contact at least one of them.”

  Rising, Cochrane said, “Well, let’s find out, shall we?”

  They found Robert Kane’s room on the fifth floor, and Jim knocked. When the door finally opened, he saw a man in his early sixties, his steel-gray hair military short. He had a long, narrow face, with a pronounced scar on the left side of his brow. Like his son, he was about six feet tall, his expensive suit made him look taller. Lines of age—from the crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes to the slash marks that bracketed his mouth—suggested that this man had weathered a lot of life. Kane’s flesh had a decided pallor and his nose was slightly red. Cochrane wondered if he’d been drinking before the funeral, though he smelled nothing on his breath.

  “Yes?” The man’s voice was low and brittle.

  “I’m Lieutenant Cochrane and this is Agent Tanner. We’re here to interview you about your daughter’s death. May we come in?”

  Kane stepped aside. “Why not?” he said with a note of sarcasm. As they entered the room, Kane walked over to the window and looked out toward the bright California sun. “This is a disaster. A disaster.” He watched Cochrane turn on the tape recorder.

  “In what way, Mr. Kane?” Ellen asked in a gentle, searching tone. She was gun-shy after Brad’s interview. Was his father just like him? In any case, she figured a soft approach might be better.

  He glanced across his shoulder briefly. “My daughter has shamed our good family name. My two sons, now serving, may suffer from her failure.”

  Cochrane looked at Ellen, whose mouth had dropped open. She quickly snapped it shut, disbelief etched in her expression. “We’re sorry that it happened, Mr. Kane,” he said. “From all appearances, your daughter was an exemplary naval officer.”

  “Yes,” Ellen added, through gritted teeth, “she accomplished more than most men.”

  Kane’s steel-gray brows knit and he turned toward them, his hands clasped in front of him. “Susan could never do anything right. Ever. This is just another example of her botched performance.”

  Jim held the pen steady in his hand. A swell of anger rose, but he quickly tamped it down. “Did she have any enemies?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “How long since you’ve been in contact with her?” Ellen asked.

  “Years. Susan was an interloper to our Navy family. When my second wife, Georgia, died five years ago, Susan made it clear she wanted nothing to do with any of us after her funeral.” He glared at them. “I acknowledged her wish to divorce herself from our family. I haven’t seen her, spoken to her or received any kind of communication from her since that embarrassing day. Now she’s committed suicide. A coward’s path.”

  “What I meant to say, sir…” Jim hesitated in an effort to control his mounting rage. “We’re trying to determine what might have driven Susan to take her life. Or if she had an enemy who wanted her murdered.”

  “Susan killed my first wife. That was the worst sin she committed—the worst of many. I don’t care how many diplomas she had, or her standing in the Navy, Lieutenant. In our family, she caused all of us nothing but pain.” His mouth flattened. “Now, she’s not only created more pain, but embarrassment, as well. If she’d been a man, she wouldn’t have committed suicide. She couldn’t even die with honor.”

  “Perhaps that’s the point,” Ellen whispered tightly. “That you wished Susan were a son instead of a daughter?”

  Kane stared at her through slitted eyes. “Susan was always a problem. As a child, she was underfoot. She was always sick. She caused my second wife more problems than my two sons combined.” Kane looked at his watch and then headed to the phone. “Susan always did what she thought was right. She was headstrong and independent. Too damn independent, if you ask me, but that’s a moot point now, isn’t it?” He picked up the phone. “This trip back through family history has nothing to do with the Navy’s investigation of her death. So unless you have anything more pertinent to ask, this interview is concluded.”

  “I’m afraid we have a few more questions before you make your calls, sir.” Frustration surged through Jim, overshadowing his better judgment. He couldn’t believe Kane’s callous attitude. Rising to his feet, Jim took the photo from his breast pocket and thrust it forward. “Is this how you expected your daughter to die?”

  Kane took the photo and gazed at it, his eyes narrowed speculatively. His mouth worked momentarily, as if to bite back something. “How dare you,” he barked, throwing the photo on the carpet. The man’s breath seemed to come in gulps, as if someone had hit him with a two-by-four.

  “How dare I?” Cochrane rasped, standing within inches of the taller, older man. “Something isn’t right here, sir. I know enough about your daughter at this point to realize she was a damn fine woman—and a superior Navy officer. You don’t get better evaluations than Susan Kane earned and we both know it. So why all this coldness? First, your son Brad acted like he couldn’t care less if Susan was alive or dead. Now you. What the hell is going on here?”

  Cochrane couldn’t steady his breathing or get a handle on his emotions. But he didn’t care. Susan Kane deserved better than this. She deserved understanding from her family, not this bitter, cold treatment. Were all the Kane men heartless?

  Red-faced, Robert Kane took a step backward. “I shall report this unprofessional conduct to your commanding officer. You disgrace the uniform you represent.”

  “Jim!” Ellen made a grab for his arm before he could lunge at Kane. Her fingers sank into tense flesh.

  Cochrane blinked. He felt Ellen’s cool, firm fingers wrap tightly around his arm. She guided him away from Kane. Breathing hard, he steadied himself and felt Ellen’s grip loosen. Turning, he picked up the photo that Kane had thrown down. “This, isn’t right,” he growled. “You treat your daughter like she was an alien from another planet, or some maggot you can squash under your foot, Captain Kane.”

  “You’re way out of line, mister,” Kane snarled. “Now get the hell out of my suite! I don’t have to put up with little shits like you throwing your weight around. This case is closed! Susan is dead. Leave, dammit.”

  “Jim?” Ellen tugged on his arm. “Come on, please?”

  “You’re right.” Cochrane was trembling with rage. After placing the photo, tape recorder, and papers into his briefcase, he snapped it shut with authority. Time to leave, drive over to the other hotel and talk to Tommy Kane.

  AS THEY WALKED TOWARD the next hotel entrance. Jim watched how the wind lifted strands of Ellen’s curly hair around her slim shoulders. How he wanted to pull her into his arms. Instead he put his hand briefly on her shoulder. “Thank you for being there.”

  Surprised, Ellen looked up at him. “No problem. I’m glad I could help.” Her skin tingled beneath his firm touch. They had stopped walking and stood face-to-face. Unconsciously, she leaned forward enough to see the look in his eyes slowly change. Did he want to kiss her? No. Impossible. Ellen was startled by what she thought she saw in his gaze. His fingers briefly tightened on her skin.

  “I’m glad you pulled me off Robert Kane. I came so close to hitting him. My good sense just about went out the window.”

  She gave him an understanding look. Ellen bemoaned the loss as he lifted his hand. It had been two years since a man had touched her. She never thought she’d want the caress of another man since Mark’s death, but she ached for Jim to do exactly that: make sweet contact with her again. Instead, they turned and walked toward the entrance.

  Jim opened the glass door for her. “Don’t start giving me that starry-eyed look, Ellen. You just happened to hit on one of my sore spots. It burns my craw that her family would think so little of her, of who she was.”

  “Well,” Ellen said gently, “in my heart, I think you’re right. I’m glad to see your human side, Jim.” She wanted him to touch her again…and
kiss her. Her whole world had turned upside down in those seconds when he’d reached out for her. Now, a keening ache was beginning deep in her body. Ellen felt she was awakening from the long sleep of grief.

  They walked up to the brass elevator doors. “Oh, I’m human as hell.”

  “There’s a real person under that Navy uniform?” Ellen kidded. She saw the tender regard in his gaze, and smiled at him.

  “Maybe I’m just getting used to being around you, and I’m letting my hair down.”

  She stepped into the elevator with him. “It’s okay.” She realized he trusted her. Heady stuff on top of her attraction to him.

  Cochrane watched as the doors slid shut. “For whatever reason, I’m glad you understood my moodiness. I want you to conduct the interview with Tommy. I’m not in a good space. Are you up to it?” The elevator doors opened and they walked down the wine-colored carpet.

  “Of course I will,” Ellen said, surprised and pleased.

  “Good, because I don’t think I can handle three cold bastards in a row.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TAKING A DEEP BREATH, Ellen halted at room 301 and knocked. She quelled the butterflies in her stomach, gearing up for the unexpected opportunity Jim just gave her. There was no answer. She glanced at Cochrane, who stood behind her. Again she knocked, this time more authoritatively. With her ear to the door, Ellen could hear a TV blaring inside the room. She was beginning to suspect that Tommy Kane wasn’t going to answer. Maybe Brad or Robert had phoned ahead to warn him.

  Before she could decide her next move, the door opened. Ellen wasn’t prepared for what she saw. Dressed in gray military sweats, Lieutenant Tommy Kane, stood before them, a nearly empty shot glass in his hand. The Kane family resemblance was striking, especially the pale blue eyes. And yet Tommy Kane’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying. His light brown hair was uncombed, as if neglected for days. Ellen’s heart lurched in sympathy.