Blood On The Bridge

by Zack Klika

  “A seedy bar sounds nice after the case I just had,” said Conn, taking a drink of her beer.

  Riley didn’t want to push. This was obviously Conn’s way of finding out if she could trust her or not.

  “Wanna talk about it?” Riley asked.

  Conn rolled her tongue in her cheek and sighed.

  “I do. First I want to know your intentions. What do you get out of finding out what really happened to Jennifer?”

  Riley set her water down and looked around the room. A photo of Conn in Army dress blues along the fireplace mantel caught her eye.

  “You were in the Army?” asked Riley.

  “Did my time with military police.”

  “Why’d you get out?”

  “There wasn’t any freedom to help people in need,” Conn said, looking Riley in the eyes. “Sexual assault and domestic violence run rampant in the military. Being a journalist, you probably already know that. You probably know it’s dealt with differently in the military too. Complaints disappear. Beatings are chalked up to PTSD. If someone grabs your tits, it’s easier to keep it to yourself. The people who complain don’t last long.”

  Riley agreed with everything this woman was saying.

  “I realized I could do more good out of the military,” Conn finished.

  Conn could be trusted. Riley was sure of it.

  “I’m going to write a story once the facts are sorted out. Jennifer deserves justice and it’s the only way I know how to give it her. What happened to her was a disgusting act against a woman and fellow soldier. I believe someone orchestrated a cover-up at Fort Campbell. I want to know why Jennifer had to die the way she did. And I want to expose the people responsible behind it.”

  There were another few seconds of charged silence.

  “Cover-up of what?”

  “Stolen weapons and ammunition from the base.”

  “Count me in,” said Conn.

  Riley set her drink down and told her everything she knew about Andrew and Jennifer.

  “And you’re positive Agent Sanchez was in charge of the Andrew Brown investigation as well?” asked Conn when Riley had finished.

  “Yes,” said Riley. “Everything points to a cover-up. I’m still trying to piece together why she would join the Army and go through all the trouble of the schools she went to, though.”

  “You said Andrew went through Air Assault and Pathfinder?”

  Riley nodded.

  “What about the SFAS course?”

  “No,” Riley said. “Nothing in his file mentions SFAS.”

  “It sounds like she was retracing his steps,” said Conn. “But that wouldn’t guarantee she’d find the killer. She must have known who it was. So why join the Army? She could have gotten revenge without enlisting.”

  Riley shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Firewood crackled as they both absorbed the situation.

  “How did Lee fit in?” Riley asked.

  “He was an informant of mine. I got a tip that Buck was running underground fights and arms deals. Lee was helping me catch him.”

  “What kind of arms?”

  “Military-grade,” Conn said.

  “So Jennifer, Andrew, and Buck were all connected,” Riley said. “I talked to Andrew Brown’s company commander and he looked worried when I asked him about weapons stolen the night of Andrew’s training accident. He said he didn’t know anything about that, but I know he was lying.”

  “How? Do you have proof weapons were stolen that night?”

  Riley shook her head. “No. I can just usually tell when someone’s lying to me.”

  She expected Conn to test her, but she only nodded as if it was some forgotten fact she had just remembered. After that, Riley let Conn work out the rest of the theory on her own. It was the only way she could make sure Conn was all in, if she could see it as clearly as Riley had.

  “So any weapons stolen the night of Andrew’s death could be the same ones Buck was selling?” Conn finally asked.

  “Exactly,” Riley said.

  “Hmm,” Conn said. “That makes perfect sense. Agent Sanchez and myself found Buck’s body next to some crates in a warehouse behind the speedway. I saw Sanchez peek into one of the crates when he thought no one was looking. Which means he somehow knew who Buck and Danny were all along. He’s probably been looking for the stolen weapons since the night Andrew died.”

  Riley considered the possibility.

  “Sanchez said Buck killed himself,” Riley said. “Is that true?”

  “Officially, yes. But I don’t believe it, and that means whoever killed him is still out there.”

  They both sat quietly for what felt like minutes.

  “Why do you think Jennifer was connected to Buck?” Conn asked.

  “Because she was beaten to the brink of death. And you saw her autopsy report. She had old bruising and scars. Multiple fights’ worth. Something a person would get from fights like the ones Buck ran.”

  Conn just nodded and said, “Of course. Other soldiers may have participated in the fights too.”

  “It’s possible. Now that Buck is dead, there’s really no way to know.”

  Conn let out a sigh. Riley continued on.

  “Whoever tried to beat Jennifer to death would have been hurt. Even if Jennifer didn’t hit the person in the face, their hands would be beat to hell after what they did to her.”

  “It’s not Buck or Danny then,” Conn said.

  “We need to figure out what happened the night Andrew Brown died. I’ve gone as far as I can into his background with his personnel files. But I have no way of getting my hands on military police records. Do you have any friends on base who can get Andrew’s case file from the night of the rollover?”

  “Maybe,” Conn said, “but if there’s a cover-up of stolen weapons going on, there won’t be anything in the records.”

  “How can something like that be written off without anyone taking notice?”

  “If someone high enough ranking is involved, then anything is possible. Most military bases rely on manual asset management, a few people or a group within a unit keeping track of all of the unit’s assets in a spreadsheet, the asset lists never updated in real time, the unit never really knowing exactly where their assets are. If someone altered an inventory list of weapons, the only real way to find out would be during an outside audit, and even then someone could be paid off to look the other way. There’s also no way to know who altered the spreadsheet. Not for certain anyway.”

  “Couldn’t someone like Sanchez just pinpoint who checked the weapons out and go after that person?”

  “That’s usually how an investigation starts. I’d bet anything Andrew had weapons and ammunition checked out in his name the night he died.”

  Riley was starting to see how tangled her investigation actually was.

  “Which means Agent Sanchez’s investigation stalled out from the get-go. He’s still looking for the stolen weapons.”

  “Bingo,” Conn said. “I’ll try to get the police report from Andrew’s accident. In the meantime, I have something that might help.”

  She walked down the hall and came back a minute later with a laptop.

  “This was Jennifer’s,” Conn said, setting the laptop down on a coffee table in front of Riley.

  “How did you get this?” asked Riley, thrown off.

  “Someone at an inn near base called the station after the press conference. Jennifer had a room there. I checked it, but it had already been cleaned. There were some clothes and a camera with the laptop. The camera’s SD card is blank, though. And the laptop is password-protected.”

  “Why give this to me? Can’t someone in your tech department open it up for you?”

  “I’m in the same boat as you,” Conn said, walking over to the fireplace and grabbing an iron poker. “Jennifer’s murder has been solved as far as anyone on base and the police station is concerned. If I take it to tech, Sanchez will find out about it. If Sanch
ez gets it, I’ll never see it again. As you know, I’m breaking just about every rule by giving this to you, but I can tell you care and this should be more than enough for you to believe that I care as well.”

  “Thanks,” Riley said. “But I don’t know anyone that can break into it.”

  “I do,” Conn said, stoking the fire.

  Chapter 36

  Sunday, 10/15/17

  Lee was passed out upright on the couch, his head tilted back and his mouth wide-open. His phone rang and he jerked forward, grabbing the gun off the coffee table and pointing it in three different directions before he noticed the noise was coming from his phone. While he licked his dry lips, his head cleared a bit as he remembered picking up a new phone.

  His old phone was in pieces in a ziplock baggie tucked away in some evidence box. Three months of savings had gone down the drain in a split second. He wondered if he would ever forget the look of fear in Danny’s eyes before he killed him. No. Never.

  He set the gun down and swallowed hard. A half-empty bottle of water sat at the edge of the coffee table. He opened it and drained it in one swig. His phone went off again.

  “What?” Lee said, no idea who it could be.

  “What’s up, dude? You good?” Chris asked.

  “Shit, man. Yeah, I’m good.”

  “I talked to Jarvis. He said you’re out.”

  “They kicked me to the curb last night.” Lee laughed. But they had. Literally.

  “Damn. You gonna be able to come work tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, they got me on some painkillers. I should be good.”

  “A’ight. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Lee wanted some company, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask for it.

  “Will do. I appreciate it,” said Lee and hung up.

  He went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. While that brewed, he made some breakfast, three eggs over easy, bacon, and a piece of whole wheat toast. He sat back down at the couch and flipped his laptop open and found an article about the police press conference.

  If Buck had not died the way he did, Lee wouldn’t feel so restless. As it stood, Lee knew there was someone else out there who knew he was with Buck and Danny that night. If the police and military were declaring it a closed case, whoever killed Buck shouldn’t be worried anymore.

  Wishful thinking on his part. Someone had been in his apartment looking for something, and Lee had no way of knowing if that person would ever be back. As much as he tried, he couldn’t help but want to call Conn. Was he a bad person because he felt worse about threatening Conn than he did about killing Danny?

  “I killed someone,” he said aloud.

  The words sounded unfamiliar. Lee needed to get his mind off of everything. Some people read to get away from everything. Others painted. Some people lived their entire lives without finding a way to ease their mind. Tinkering with electronics helped Lee clear his. He pulled out a box from under the coffee table and pulled out a miniature drone that had a surveillance camera built into it.

  A slender remote disappeared in Lee’s right hand. The left toggle on the remote controlled the drone’s movements. The right toggle controlled the camera’s. He could zoom in and out, swivel the lens left, right, around in a circle. The drone itself was no bigger than the palm of his hand. But it was fast. Four motors propelled it to sixty miles per hour in 1.7 seconds. Lee also had a virtual reality headset for it, which made him feel like he was in the drone.

  He was about to boot up the drone and let it loose out of the kitchen window, but his surveillance camera’s motion detector was triggered just before takeoff. Lee watched his television as a woman with her hair pulled back in a bun stopped at the door and knocked twice. Lee didn’t recognize her, but he considered it unlikely a woman had come to kill him. Maybe she was a reporter. Lee covered the length of the living room in four steps and looked at her through the peep hole. She was attractive.

  “Who is it?” Lee asked. The door still closed.

  The woman leaned close to the peep hole.

  “Riley. Detective Conn sent me.”

  Lee thought about it. The last time they spoke, Conn had made it pretty clear she didn’t want anything to do with him. Ever again.

  “What for?” Lee said.

  “If you open the door, I’ll tell you.” Riley looked agitated.

  Lee felt uneasy. Paranoia did that to a person.

  Riley looked around. “She said she’s sorry. And if you help me, she’ll know you’re sorry too.”

  He opened the door after running a few exit strategies through his head.

  “Come on in,” he said.

  The kitchen window was still open when he went to grab Riley a cup of coffee. He looked down from the sill and determined he could stick the landing if need be. Back in the living room, he set the cup of coffee down in front of Riley and noticed she seemed fascinated with the drone he’d been tinkering with. It wasn’t something you bought at a store. It had that DIY look to it.

  “You built this?” she asked.

  Lee took a seat next to her on the couch.

  “Yeah, took me a few weeks, but it’s better than anything you can buy on the web and a lot cheaper too.”

  Riley was spinning one of the rotor wings.

  “What else ya got?” she asked.

  Lee clicked the television on. A view of his front door and stairs popped up.

  “I knew you were here before you knocked. Motions sensors activate the camera that’s linked to the TV.”

  Riley nodded with an impressed look. “Pretty cool.”

  Lee grinned. No one ever acknowledged the cool shit he built. Conn only smiled when he nerded out to her about some new technology developed in China.

  “So how do you know Conn?” Lee asked.

  “She’s working a case I’m writing about.”

  “Jennifer?”

  Riley nodded.

  Lee got up and headed for the door to open it so she could leave. “I can’t help. You should go.”

  “Just give me a few minutes, okay? I’m not a cop or anything. I’m a journalist with the Fort Campbell Daily.”

  Lee sighed and shut the door.

  “I almost died because of this shit. And then someone breaks into my apartment Saturday morning while I was at the hospital. This shit is trippin’ me out. I didn’t sign up for this and she fucking knows it.”

  It felt good to get it all off his chest. He didn’t plan on giving the speech, but shit happens.

  “What’d they take?”

  “Nothing.”

  Riley looked confused, so Lee explained further: “I only know they broke in because I have cameras set up in here too.”

  Lee clicked a button on his remote control, and the television split into four quadrants, showing four different views. The first was the view he had already shown Riley. The second showed the living room. The third showed the kitchen. And the fourth showed his bedroom.

  Riley laughed. But caught herself.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing.”

  Lee waited for an answer.

  “You make your bed,” she said, doing a poor job of suppressing her smile.

  Lee felt offended. “I’m an adult.”

  “Okay,” Riley said, still smirking. “Can you show me the video?”

  Lee flipped open his laptop and pulled up the video footage. Riley watched in silence as the man did a sweep of the apartment and exited. The man in the video moved with purpose. Lee noticed Riley tense up a bit.

  “What is it?” Lee asked, sensing something was wrong.

  Riley shook her head.

  “Nothing,” Riley said. “What time was this?”

  Lee didn’t know her well enough to call her a liar.

  “Around four in the morning.”

  “Are you positive?”

  “Yes.” Lee started to put his drone away. “So what do you and Conn need?”
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  Riley pulled a laptop out of her bag.

  “I need to get past the password on this laptop.”

  All he could do was laugh at her.

  “So she thinks I’m a hacker too.”

  “No. But you know people who are, right?”

  Of course he knew hackers. You could find them on Craigslist these days. But he didn’t need to hire one to bypass a password.

  Riley stared blankly at him. “So can you help?”

  Lee nodded. If this got him back on good terms with Conn, then maybe it was worth it.

  Chapter 37

  As Riley drove home, she gripped the steering wheel to stop her hands from shaking.

  What she saw on the TV at Lee’s place didn’t make any sense. Why had Thomas broken into Lee’s apartment? And how did he do it? He was drunk off his ass when she got him home early Saturday morning. How could he do it without her knowing? The pills . . .

  She didn’t want to alarm Lee, so she hadn’t told him she recognized the man who had been in his apartment. But it was Thomas. No doubt about it. She didn’t need to see his eyes. She’d seen him wear that same New York Yankees hat a few times before. Past the bill of his hat, she could make out the bridge of his nose and his chiseled jaw.

  Thomas couldn’t be connected, though. He was just an infantry soldier who sold prescription pills in the barracks. The more Riley thought about it, the more the web of lies spread. The possibility that Thomas knew Jennifer might not be that absurd. Whenever someone found out you were in the military, they would invariably ask the same question: “Do you know my friend so-and-so at such-and-such base? He’s in the Army too.” Of course every soldier didn’t know every other soldier.

  But in the case of Thomas and Jennifer’s possible acquaintance, it was different. There were some 25,000-odd soldiers stationed at Fort Campbell at any given time. Thomas was an infantryman assigned to 1st Battalion, which fell under the 3rd Brigade Combat Team. There were close to 1,000 soldiers in his battalion. Jennifer had been assigned to a forward support company in 1st Battalion. They could have known each other. Even their barracks were right next to each other. Why hadn’t she questioned the connection before? What role did Thomas have in Jennifer’s murder?

  A cold front had settled into Clarksville. The temperature was creeping into the fifties and the sun was shining bright. It created that odd situation in a vehicle where you had to keep turning the A/C up and down to stay comfortable. Riley had just found the right mix of fan speed and temperature setting when she pulled into her apartment’s parking lot.