Duty and Dishonor

by Merline Lovelace

  “What happened then?”

  “Then we played out a cheap, tawdry parlor farce. I wasn’t about to walk along the perimeter alone at that hour of the night. Hunter made some acid observation about women who ask for it and don’t know how to handle it when they get it. Eventually, he drove me back to my quarters.”

  “Why didn’t you report his assault?”

  “I should have. I intended to. But by the time I got back to my room, I felt so damned stupid!”

  For a moment, Julia was back in her eight-by-ten room, pacing the cramped floor, feeling not just stupid, but dirty and violated and angry and scared.

  “That was before anyone had coined either the phrase or the concept of date rape,” she got out, her throat tight. “I saw what happened to a girl in my dorm at college who brought a rape charge against the football player she’d been dating. He beat the charge and strutted around campus. She carried the label of cock-teaser until she transferred to another school.”

  Marsh didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. In his line of business, he had to know as well as Julia that the accuser all too often became the accused in rape cases.

  “I left the party voluntarily with Hunter,” she said bitterly, condemning herself every bit as harshly than she knew others would have. “You said yourself everyone thought I was having an affair with Gabe. No one would have believed me if I charged him with rape, and I wasn’t ready to put myself through that.”

  “What did you do?” he asked quietly.

  Her mouth turned down in disgust. “I went to the clinic. The corpsman on duty issued me some spermicidal jelly and penicillin tablets. I had no idea how many women Gabe had slept with besides Claire and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  He didn’t speak for several moments, weighing all she’d told him.

  “Let’s talk about Claire. I understand why you didn’t go to the authorities. But I’m not sure I understand why you didn’t you tell your best friend that the man she loved assaulted you.”

  “I tried. When I got out of the shower that morning, Claire was... She was there, in the latrine.”

  “Is that when she told you she was pregnant?”

  Julia’s hands dropped to her side. A sense of futility stole over her. She’d tried to protect Davey and Claire. She’d tried.

  “How did you know?”

  “We checked her son’s birth date. Mrs. Hunter confirmed it when I spoke with her.”

  “When did you talk to her?”

  “Last week. The day before her husband’s remains were interred.”

  “You badgered Claire about her son’s birth date the day before she buried her husband for the second time?” Her lip curled. “Nice line of work you’re in, Marsh.”

  The sarcastic comment shattered their almost-truce.

  “Someone’s got to do it, Colonel,” he replied softly, dangerously.

  The skin across Julia’s cheeks tightened. Without another word, she returned to her seat. Marsh chose to remain standing. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he fingered his keys.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this incident when I asked you if you’d had sex with Captain Hunter?”

  “I didn’t have sex with Captain Hunter. He raped me, or tried to.”

  “Don’t play word games with me again, Colonel.”

  Marsh hadn’t meant for the warning to come out so sharply. He cursed under his breath as he saw Barbara’s head lift in surprise and a militant light come into Julia’s eyes.

  The young lawyer also took exception. “I object to both your tone and this line of questioning.”

  “This isn’t a trial. I’m not required to observe the rules of court-martial etiquette.”

  “Nor is my client required to submit to intimidation.”

  The agent swung his gaze to Julia. “Are you intimidated, Colonel?”

  “No, Mr. Marsh,” she shot back, “I’m not.”

  He felt a tug of admiration for her flinty courage. Despite the weight of the evidence against her, Julia Endicott refused to bend.

  “Let’s get back to the original question. Why didn’t you tell me about the rape?”

  “Why? Because I knew when I did, I’d hand you the motive you’ve been looking for.”

  “So you shot Captain Hunter to avenge what he did to you on the night of May thirteenth?”

  “I didn’t shoot Captain Hunter.”

  “Some people wouldn’t blame you. Some people might say the bastard deserved shooting.”

  “He did, Mr. Marsh. I didn’t shoot him, however.”

  “Then who did?”

  Her lids fluttered down, then lifted. He caught a glimpse of fear, quickly hidden.

  “I don’t know.”

  He was silent for several moments, absorbing all she’d told him. There was more to the story, he knew, a final confrontation between Julia Endicott and Gabe Hunter. When had it come? What had happened?

  “How did you convince Captain Hunter to marry Lieutenant Simmons?”

  The swift change in the direction threw her off balance. “What makes you think I did?”

  “She said you talked to Hunter that morning, told him she was pregnant. Did he take much convincing, Colonel?”

  For the first time, the fight seemed to go out of her. Propping her elbows on the table, she put her face in her hands. Her breath soughed in, then out, the rasping sound magnified by the hollow of her palms.

  “I’m sorry, Claire. I’m so sorry.”

  Marsh hardened himself against the low, agonized whisper. “Would you speak up, please?”

  Slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes went to the tape recorder in the center of the table. “Does this have to be part of the official record?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “No. Turn the tape recorder off.”

  His partner gaped at him.

  “Turn it off.”

  Barbara Lyles reached out a long, tapered nail and flicked off the recorder.

  Julia gave a sigh of relief. “I want to talk to you privately.”

  Her lawyer protested. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Colonel Endicott. As your attorney, I advise you not to speak off the record or continue this discussion without legal counsel.”

  “I understand, Captain. What I want to say has nothing to do with me or Captain Hunter’s death.”

  "Very well." The captain slipped his glasses off and folded them into his pocket. “I’ll wait outside with Special Agent Lyles.”

  Barbara took her dismissal with less grace than the attorney. Shooting Marsh a look that promised a long, heated discussion later, she shut the door behind her.

  The others’ departure made the small conference room seem at once larger and more intimate. It also freed Marsh to study Julia Endicott with unrestrained male appreciation as she walked to the end of the table to pour herself more water from the silver carafe. Not many women could carry off that bulky sweater and pleated slacks the way the colonel did, he thought. The dark color contrasted with the silvery gilt of her hair, while the pants displayed the slim line of her hips and trim behind.

  Slightly disconcerted to find himself contemplating a colonel’s behind, Marsh shoved his hands in his pockets.

  Julia sent him a frowning glance over one shoulder. “That’s an annoying habit. Do you do it on purpose, to distract your suspects?”

  Marsh pulled his hands out of his pockets, smiling ruefully. “No. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. My ex-wife had it close to the top of her list of my least desirable traits, though.”

  Surprise tingled through Julia as she returned to her chair. As far as she could recall, that was the first time she’d ever seen Special Agent Ted Marsh smile. He looked almost human.

  Careful, she warned herself. She couldn’t afford to think of him as anything other than investigator.

  “I meant what I said about this conversation, Mr. Marsh. It’s strictly off the record. I don’t want this to appear in a transcript. Anywhere. Claire’s been hurt en
ough. She doesn’t need a record turning up that says her husband had to be forced to marry her.”

  “Did you force him?”

  “More or less. He might have offered to marry Claire, eventually on his own. I doubt it, but we didn’t have time to wait for him to get around to it.”

  “Because Claire was going home in a month?”

  “Because she could barely get into her fatigues by the time she told me she was pregnant. In those days, pregnancy meant an automatic discharge whether you were married or not. Pregnancy in a war zone meant you were on the next plane out of Dodge. She couldn’t face her family without a job or a husband or her pride. I couldn’t let her.”

  “So you talked to Hunter.”

  “No, I didn’t talk to him. I gave him an ultimatum. He’d marry Claire, or I’d bring charges against him for rape.”

  Marsh sat back and stretched out his legs. His hands went for his pockets, but he caught himself just in time and hooked his thumbs in the seams instead.

  “I don’t see Gabriel Hunter as a man who’d respond well to ultimatums.”

  “The results speak for themselves, Mr. Marsh.”

  Julia saw no reason to tell him, on or off the record, that she’d threatened to put a SuperVel 110 grain hollow-point bullet into Gabe Hunter’s balls if he balked at marrying the mother of his child.

  “Did you see him again after the wedding?”

  “Are we still off the record?”

  His shoulders stiffed. They were broad shoulders, Julia noted as she waited for his response to her question. She knew as well as Marsh that any statements she made now couldn’t be used against her. There were no witnesses to verify what she said. No tape recorders to capture it.

  Had she been the one conducting this interview, she would’ve terminated it now and resumed in front of witnesses. She waited, her heart thumping erratically to see what Marsh would do.

  “We’re still off the record, colonel.”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “I never saw Gabe Hunter again.”

  “Not even when his wife left for the States?”

  “I said good-bye to Claire at the women’s quarters.”

  “You didn’t run into Hunter at the O’Club?”

  “I...I didn’t feel particularly sociable for a while.”

  A long while, she remembered.

  Julia didn’t speak for a moment, fighting the memory of the anger and disgust and sense of violation she’d carried with her for so many long months.

  And the fear.

  God, the fear! More than anything else, she hated Gabe Hunter for shattering her confidence in herself. Never again had she blithely assumed she could control the direction and intensity of her relationship with a man.

  “I didn’t go to the O’Club,” she said after a moment. “I didn’t go into Saigon. I did accept Dean’s invitation to dinner the night before he left for the States. It was the night before my birthday, too, and I was feeling down. But I found out he’d also invited Gabe, and I didn’t go.”

  “You’re birthday’s the eleventh of June,” he murmured.

  She looked at him in surprise, then flushed. Of course, he’d remembered her birthday. That was the day she’d spent at the orphanage. The day her father’s Smith & Wesson was stolen from her room at the women’s barracks.

  He picked up where her thoughts had left off. “The same day Gabriel Hunter failed to report for his mission planning brief.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Eighteen hours later, his Jeep was found on the road to Long Binh.”

  Julia leaned forward, the skin tight across her high cheekbones. “I didn’t kill him, Marsh. I didn’t get into a Jeep and drive to Long Binh with him. I didn’t ask him to stop by the side of the road, then pull out my weapon and put a bullet through his skull.”

  “If you didn’t, who did? And why?”

  “I don’t know!”

  A silence settled over the conference room, broken only by the tinkle of coins tumbling against each other.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The moment the door closed behind Colonel Endicott and the lawyer, Barbara Lyles rounded on Marsh.

  “What’s this off-the-record crap? Since when does the OSI operate like a gumshoe detective agency in some B-grade movie?”

  “The OSI doesn’t,” Marsh replied mildly, reaching for his overcoat. “I do occasionally, however. Let’s get back to Bolling.”

  The irate agent splayed her hands over hips covered by a flaring, fire-engine-red wool skirt. “You’re not walking out of here until you tell me what went on, Ted.”

  Since Barbara’s statuesque, six-foot-one frame blocked the door, Marsh conceded her point. Special Agent Lyles carried herself with the grace and the style of a supermodel. She’d also aced every one of the FBI academy’s martial arts courses before she decided to forsake the hopelessly chauvinistic Bureau for--in her words--the marginally more progressive military. Marsh wouldn’t get out of the conference room until he smoothed her ruffled feathers.

  “Why did you let up on her?” she demanded. “Telling us about that incident with Hunter had her strung wire tight. If you’d applied a little more torque, she might have snapped. I couldn’t believe you agreed to talk to her without a witness present.”

  “She wasn’t going to say anything incriminating. Even wire tight, Julia’s too smart for that.”

  “Julia?” Barbara arched a penciled brow. “The chief investigator and the prime suspect are now on a first name basis now? You two must have had some chat.”

  “Cut me some slack, Lyles.” Marsh tossed his overcoat back on a chair. “You know damn well I don’t call her Julia to her face. You also know that once the dike breaks and a witness spills her deep, dark secrets, there’s no plugging the leak again. If she’d told me anything off the record, eventually she would have repeated it for the record.”

  Still miffed, Barbara didn’t abandon her militant stance. “So what did she tell you?”

  Marsh gave her a brief encapsulation of the conversation before scooping up his overcoat again.

  “Let’s go back to the office. I want to go through Julia’s...” He shot Barbara a dark look. “...Colonel Endicott’s medical records again. I shouldn’t have missed that visit to the clinic the night Hunter attacked her.”

  “If he attacked her.”

  Marsh cocked his head. “You think she’s fabricating the rape attempt?”

  “Possibly.”

  His partner draped the wool cloak that matched her blazing red suit around her shoulders. When Barbara went undercover, she somehow managed to blend into any setting she inserted herself into. When she worked out of the headquarters, she indulged her flamboyant tastes.

  “Colonel Endicott’s seen the physical evidence,” she pointed out. “She’s heard statements from several witness who were absolutely convinced she and Hunter had something hot going between them. Maybe she’s trying to lessen the charge against her by building a case against him.”

  “Maybe.”

  Marsh reached for the door, surprised at his own doubts. A few days ago, he’d stared at the blow-up of a young Julia Endicott and wondered if jealousy could drive her to murder a man. Just moments ago, she’d given him the answer. Not jealousy, but cold, deadly rage. Revenge for Hunter’s attack on her.

  For some reason, the answer didn’t afford Marsh the satisfaction he’d expected it to. Listening to Julia’s terse account of what happened on that deserted perimeter road, he hadn’t experienced the gut-tightening sense of anticipation he sometimes did when a suspect teetered on the edge. Nor did he quite understand why he’d held his breath and willed her not to fall.

  “We need to take another look at our timeline, as well,” he said curtly, ushering Barbara out of the conference room. “We’ve got a few more dates to add. The visit to the clinic the morning after Lassiter’s party. David Hunter’s birth date some five months after his father’s death. And I want to...”

  �
��Special Agent Marsh?”

  He wheeled around to face a tall, trim major.

  “I’m glad I caught you before you left. General Titus would like to see you.”

  A disgruntled Barbara waited in the outer office while Marsh entered the inner sanctum. The Vice Chief didn’t waste time on pleasantries or preliminaries. Waving the agent to one of the uncomfortable, Ethiopian chairs in front of his desk, he got right to the point.

  “What’s the status of your investigation into this Captain Hunter’s death?”

  Marsh didn’t hesitate. Given the high profile of the suspect, he’d been providing daily progress reports to his boss. Colonel Pfligerman in turn briefed his boss, the OSI commander, who kept the top Air Force leadership apprised. In this case, though, the front office interest went deeper than usual. In the past weeks, Marsh had learned a great deal about Colonel Julia Endicott, including the rumor that the Vice Chief had hand-selected her as the Deputy Chief of Public Affairs and had been grooming her for future promotion to general officer.

  Despite the rumors, General Titus hadn’t hesitated to take the painful step of removing his protégé from office. He’d also maintained a necessary distance from the investigation to ensure a lack of command influence. Something must have occurred to get him involved at this point, Marsh guessed.

  “My investigation is still in progress,” he replied succinctly. “We’ve assembled the evidence, collected statements from witnesses, and have just finished interviewing Colonel Endicott.”

  Frosty blue eyes pinned Marsh to the hard, hand-carved chair. “Did she do it?”

  He knew better than to remind the general that a court martial board would decide the answer to that question. The Vice Chief wanted his opinion as a trained investigator.

  “A few days ago, I would have said yes. Today...”

  “Today what?” Titus snapped.

  “Today, Colonel Endicott gave me additional information that I want to check out.”

  Briefly, he summarized Julia’s account of the night of May 13th, 1972. The assault had occurred more than twenty years ago on the other side of the world...if it had occurred at all. Yet the idea of a young Julia Endicott pinned to the seat of a Jeep, fighting off an attack by another Air Force officer, squared the Vice Chief’s jaw.