Silent Witness

by Lindsay McKenna

  “The family dynamic among the Kanes?”

  “I reckon so. Robert Kane was ready to condemn Susan all over again for the sake of propriety. More than willing to indict her, even without hearing all the facts. And after hearing them, he softened his blame of her to a degree, but he has yet to surrender to his guilt and contribution to her death.”

  “Tommy and Brad knew their part in this once they pieced together the truth of the situation. And they accepted it.”

  Jim snorted softly. “It’s a good thing. There might be a dysfunctional sickness in the family, but at least the sons are healthy enough not to go along with that same pattern forever.”

  “Now who sounds like a shrink?” Ellen said.

  Cochrane gave her a pained, lopsided smile, then looked up as the waitress set the coffee they’d ordered in front of them. After taking a healthy swig of his, he said, “Nothing like thick black coffee on a bad day.”

  Ellen tentatively sipped her brew. “It does taste good. My stomach is tied in Gordian-size knots. I know it’s almost dinner time. If you want to eat, go ahead. I can’t.”

  “Yore setch a softy, Ellen. But that’s one of many things I like about you. You bring a human side to an investigation I didn’t have before.”

  She smiled at him. “With no apologies.”

  “I know.” Cochrane nodded. “So was Susan, you know. She was a big softy underneath that jet jock veneer.”

  “No doubt.”

  “I wonder what she could have done with her life if it hadn’t been brought to an end so soon. Gone on and become an astronaut? Discovered a new design for a plane? What?”

  “What about personal things, like meeting the right guy and having some wonderful kids?”

  “We’ll never know, will we? What a waste of a good life. She was a special soul. Very special.” Cochrane drank some more of the coffee. “What we have are jerks like Hodges, Michelson and Bassett, garbage from pre-Tailhook days. Tell me the world’s better off with them here instead of Susan Kane?”

  “I can’t. Those three have to live with what they did, though.”

  “Reckon so…” Jim said slowly. “I hope it eats like acid through their craw.”

  “I don’t think it will,” Ellen muttered. “They’ll wall it off, go into denial about their roles in this, and over time, make it less important in their lives. Susan ensured that her last ‘mistake’ would go to the grave with her, that it wouldn’t be found out. Her brothers’ careers would be safe and on track.” She sighed. “How unfair.”

  “Reckon life ain’t ever fair, but it does go on,” Cochrane said. “Shakespeare has a quote to fit Susan’s life.”

  Ellen lifted her head. “You know Shakespeare?”

  He grinned. “I’m a country boy, but we had plenty of what Ma called ‘good books,’ in our cabin. She had most of Shakespeare’s works. She especially loved his sonnets. Ma used to read them to us every night before we went to bed.”

  “I’ll be darned. I’m impressed, Jim. What would Shakespeare say about Susan?”

  Placing his hands around the warm mug, Cochrane said, “It’s from Julius Caesar. ‘The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones.’” He held her gaze. “So, unfortunately, it will be with Susan Kane.”

  Sniffing, Ellen produced Jim’s handkerchief again and blotted her eyes. “I’m going to send Susan’s teddy bear and their mother’s picture to Tommy tomorrow.”

  With a nod, Cochrane said, “I think he’d like that.”

  “Do you think those photos can be buried so that no one ever finds out about them?”

  “I believe so. Hodges sure as hell isn’t going to peep about them, and neither is Michelson or Bassett. I’ll contact Hodges tomorrow and ask that they all be passed to me. I’m sure he’ll hand them over, under the circumstances.”

  “I just wish there was a way to bring those men to justice, Jim.”

  “There’s one possible way to get those bastards. I didn’t say it in front of the Kanes, but there’s a back door….”

  “Oh?”

  “I could tell that captain who works for the CNO the true story of Susan’s suicide, off-the-record. The one who approached me twice. Remember?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I honestly don’t think he’ll ask to see the evidence, but if he’s the man I think he is, restitution will be brought to bear on Hodges, Bassett and Michelson in another way. You might rail against the Navy system of taking care of its own, but in this case, Ellen, the CNO will be their judge and jury. He’ll jettison those three pecker heads out of the Navy like torpedoes launched out of a sub tube.”

  “What if he won’t act without proof?”

  Jim forced a smile. “That captain is a first-rate human being. He saw between the lines. With those kinds of people on the CNO’s staff, with all the evidence we’ve gathered, and I’ll bet my bottom dollar that he’ll act swiftly on this situation.” He finished his coffee and set the cup aside. “Well, gal, are you up to getting back in the saddle?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Cochrane looked at his watch. “We’ve got three other cases sitting in our in-basket just begging for our attention. Plus we have a five-day forensics seminar over in Oahu, Hawaii, coming up next month that we’ll have to attend. That’s part of the ongoing education for JAG personnel.”

  “Hawaii? Hey, I like that,” Ellen said, brightening. “That’s almost like a minivacation.”

  Grinning, Cochrane nodded. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to the seminar. I have a lot of good friends over at the Navy station on Ford Island in Pearl Harbor. I intend to drop by and say hello.” He also thought it would be an excellent time to explore his relationship with Ellen. Out of sight, out of mind of his JAG office and Commander Dornier. The time over in Hawaii could be healing and hopeful for both of them, he realized.

  “Sounds like just what we need.”

  “Because the Kane case is wrapped up doesn’t mean we don’t have a pile of work running after us, begging for our attention. Are you up for it? Or do you want to take the rest of the day off and I’ll go back to the office?”

  “Hey, I may be a softy at heart, but I’m no quitter, okay? I’m going back to the office with you.”

  “Butterflies always look so fragile.” He saw the amusement sparkling in her eyes, some of the pain and shadows dissolving.

  “Butterflies? What do I have in common with butterflies?” Ellen liked the idea that Jim saw her like that.

  Toying with his cup, he studied her. “Have a late dinner with me tonight and find out?” He watched as surprise filled her eyes.

  Ellen sat back. “A real date?” Her heart thudded to underscore her joy over his request.

  “Reckon so.”

  She studied him critically in the silence. “Dinner date as in…?”

  “I don’t want to spend this evening alone. Just dinner…between us? To discuss our growing relationship?” He wanted more than that, but he’d be grateful for that much.

  Ellen averted her gaze. “Dinner,” she repeated, more to herself than him.

  “How about it? You’ve always been the wild woman of our team. Here I thought you would like another challenge, Ellen—a real, live, honest-to-goodness dinner with all the trimmings. Or maybe it’s bad timing?” Cochrane needed her softness and understanding after this gut-wrenching day.

  Her lips curved into a smile. “Wild woman. Butterflies. Who knows what else lurks in that facile mind of yours, Mr. Cochrane?”

  He chuckled. “From the first moment I laid eyes on you and that wild red hair of yours, I figured you were a wild hill woman at heart.” Her face turned red with a blush. “Are we on for dinner?”

  “I’d love to have dinner with you.” And more. But she didn’t say that. Ellen was smart enough and old enough to let the dinner invitation lead to wherever it would go.

  Her smile was gossamer, her eyes shining with such—love? Cochrane wasn’t sure what he was see
ing. Although he was afraid to utter the L word—it was much too soon—he decided not to try and figure this one out. “Fair enough, gal. Fair enough.”

  WHEN THEY RETURNED to their interview room at the Top Gun facility, it was nearly 1645. A cloak of sadness still embraced Cochrane, and he allowed himself to feel badly for Susan and her family.

  He was about to speak to Ellen, who had just picked up her briefcase, when a tall and brawny sailor rushed in. His features were tense.

  “Lieutenant Cochrane, you’d better come with me. All hell’s broken loose over at the O Club.”

  Instantly, Cochrane was on his feet. “What happened?”

  The Shore Patrol petty officer stood in the doorway, his hands on his white web belt. “We just got a call from the manager of the club, sir. An unidentified officer went into the bar and started firing a pistol. We’ve got three men down.”

  Ellen gasped and turned to Jim.

  “Do you know who?” he demanded, grabbing his cap.

  “No, sir, I don’t. You’re the closest JAG officer we could find. I knew you were over here interviewing personnel. Captain Allison from JAG said to come and get you. It’s a bloody mess over there, sir. We’ve got the shooter.”

  “I’m going, too!” Ellen said, racing around the table after grabbing her purse.

  “No,” Cochrane growled, holding up his hand. “Stay here, Ellen.”

  “Why?” she demanded breathlessly. She wasn’t about to be left behind.

  “This isn’t like a cold crime scene,” he warned her in a low voice. “There’s blood—”

  “Count on it,” the petty officer said. Moving into the passageway, he called urgently, “Let’s mount up, sir. You’re needed right now.”

  Ellen dashed around Cochrane and ran after him. “I’m going!”

  After Cochrane locked the room behind them, he caught up to Ellen. They raced to the awaiting Shore Patrol vehicle, its light bar flashing.

  “Ellen,” Cochrane rasped as he leaped into the rear seat, “when we get to the scene, don’t come in until I tell you to.” He knew she’d reel from seeing fresh blood spilled. Not that he enjoyed it either, but he’d seen enough to protect himself emotionally from such a crime scene. Ellen didn’t have the experience, and it wasn’t something she needed right now on top of today’s stressful events.

  “Okay…”

  Cochrane pulled her in so that she sat close to him. The door was slammed shut and the vehicle lurched forward, the siren wailing.

  Biting down on his lower lip, Cochrane listened intently to the numerous radio calls flooding the vehicle.

  Ellen looked anxious. “Seems like life as a legal officer is never dull. First Susan’s death and now this.”

  “Reckon so,” he said grimly. “We could all do with a little less excitement in our lives….”

  “No kidding.” Ellen held on as the vehicle screeched down another street.

  “It’s just the way the cards have been dealt.” Cochrane shook his head and stared out the window. He was unsure why Ellen insisted upon coming, and rationalized that it was because she wanted to prove herself as part of their team. Cochrane saw four ambulances in front of the Officers Club. Shore Patrol was there in force, directing traffic. A number of officers, both men and women, were standing back while gurneys were hurriedly wheeled into the building.

  The instant the vehicle braked to a halt, Cochrane flew out of it, jogging toward the entrance. Ellen hurried after him, dodging and ducking between the tight knots of people staring disbelievingly toward the doors to the O Club.

  Gasping, Ellen halted just inside the establishment. She had already decided to go in, but now fear rose in her throat, almost choking off her air. She saw Jim’s face go pale as he stepped into the bar area. The deck was littered with debris. Slivers of wood and shattered glass from the mirrors crunched underfoot. Eyes widening, Ellen scanned the place. Bullet holes riddled the mirrors and bulkheads. There were broken bottles everywhere.

  The odor of alcohol mingled with a sweetish stench made her stomach lurch threateningly. It was the smell of blood.

  A number of paramedics and ambulance attendants worked frantically at one end of the bar. Shouts and orders filled the air. Ellen grabbed hold of Jim’s arm as he headed in that direction. The air reeked with the smell of gunfire, adding to the blood and alcohol. Holding her hand across her nose and mouth, Ellen kept up with difficulty. As they grew closer to the knot of paramedics who were working over a victim, she gave a cry.

  “Hodges!”

  Cochrane halted abruptly. He threw out his hand and stumbled to a stop.

  Ellen gave a strangled sound of surprise. Hodges lay on the floor, his summer white uniform splattered with blood, especially across his chest. Ellen turned away, gagging. She pressed her hand to her mouth as she moved drunkenly back toward the entrance. Her senses spun. Shock coursed through her. He had just returned from TDY. Why was Hodges here? Had he stopped in for a bite to eat before going home? Or maybe he’d already been home, checked on the photos and come back to the station? Ellen didn’t know. Staggering, she threw out her hand to try and find something to brace herself against.

  “Come on,” Cochrane said, sliding his arm around her waist and hauling her up against him. “I told you to stay the hell out of here.”

  Fresh air flowing through the open doors had never smelled so good to Ellen as Jim guided her to a chair just inside the lobby. He forced her to sit down.

  “Stay here!” he ordered.

  Choking, Ellen nodded. Jim’s features were hard and expressionless. She watched him as he quickly left to investigate the crime scene. The lonely wails of sirens mingled with the voices of ambulance staff and frantic paramedics. Bile stung her mouth, and Ellen pressed both hands against her throat as a gurney bearing Hodges’s lifeless form was wheeled out of the building. Her mind spun with questions. Who had shot him? Had it been Brad or Tommy Kane?

  She pressed her hand to her forehead as she watched a number of waitresses holding back tears of shock. The manager of the club stood beside them, a look of horror on his aging features.

  A second and third gurney eventually came out of the club. Ellen diverted her gaze, not wanting to see who else had been shot. She felt weak in the knees and didn’t want to move. And yet her attention was riveted by all the activity. Several light gray unmarked cars pulled up, and officers in tan uniforms hurried in, their faces sober and serious.

  Eventually, Ellen gathered her strength and forced herself up to her feet once again. She staggered unsteadily down the short passageway off the lobby, hoping to find a ladies’ room and splash some cold water on her face. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling suddenly chilled in the air-conditioned club. Nausea rolled through her. Senses spinning, she halted and leaned against a wall for a moment. Where was the restroom? She had to find one.

  Taking a shaky breath, she moved deeper into the club. There was an opening on her left. A young Shore Patrolman stepped into the doorway and held up a hand for Ellen to halt. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You can’t go any farther. This area is off-limits except for authorized investigation personnel.”

  Ellen stopped, glanced past the young man into the room, and gasped. Commander Brad Kane sat on a sofa, his head buried in his hands. He was flanked by a stern-faced Navy Shore Patrol chief who carried a sidearm on his hip. Brad slowly raised his chin and gazed toward where she stood.

  Ellen saw the wild look in his eyes. It wasn’t the gaze of a brave pilot who faced death from the cockpit of a high-speed death machine, but that of a person who had seen death’s ugly face up close and personal. Brad’s left trouser leg was stained dark red with congealing blood. Questions tunneled through Ellen’s mind. Had Brad killed Hodges? Was that why the chief was standing next to him with a pistol?

  Spinning away, Ellen started back down the passageway to look for Jim. The pleading look in Brad’s eyes tore at her. She couldn’t handle any more trauma. Where was Cochrane? As she wove un
steadily down the carpeted expanse, she saw him appear at the end of the hall. Relief showered through her.

  When Cochrane saw her, his masklike features thawed briefly. “Come away from there, gal,” he said, placing his hand on her elbow when he reached her.

  Ellen leaned against him, grateful to feel his arm go around her shoulders, steadying her. “I saw Brad Kane down there,” she said as she buried her face against Jim’s shirt. His arm tightened briefly.

  “I know,” he rasped. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

  She forced herself to straighten. “Who shot Commander Hodges? Was it Brad?”

  Cochrane wiped the sweat off his brow with his fingers. “Reckon it wasn’t.”

  “What?” Ellen jerked to a halt and stared up at him. “But I saw—”

  “It was Lieutenant Michelson.” Cochrane settled his cap firmly on his head and then gently coaxed her to begin walking again. “What a hog wallow of a mess.”

  “But—what about Brad Kane? What’s he doing here, Jim? My God, his uniform is splattered with blood. He looks like he just walked through a slaughterhouse.”

  “I know. It was all of matter of bad timing.”

  “What do you mean?” Ellen demanded, her voice thin with strain.

  “I just talked to an eyewitness that NCIS still has inside the club. He said that Hodges had just come off TDY. He’d gone straight from the flight to the O Club and looked up Bassett, who was having a beer there. Commander Brad Kane had just arrived in the bar area and had jerked Hodges around to face him, when Michelson suddenly appeared out of nowhere and pushed Kane aside.

  “Michelson growled something about Hodges being a snitch and that he wasn’t going to live to see his gold oak leaves. He accused Hodges of turning in the photo from Ares to us. Michelson pulled out a 9 mm Beretta and started pumping shots into Hodges. He took three shots to the chest and died instantly.

  “Bassett tried to get away, and took a slug to the chest as he threw himself across the bar to try and hide. Michelson then calmly placed a fresh magazine in the gun, held the barrel of it in his mouth and…” Cochrane stopped the story, but seeing she was all right, he continued. “Hodges fell dead at Brad Kane’s feet. Kane wasn’t wounded. He was just splattered with everyone else’s blood.”