by Vicki Hinze
Madison eased her hand in her pocket and rubbed her medal. It clacked against Grant’s pink rubbing stone. “Commander, why don’t you just share what’s wrong? Obviously, whatever we can do, we’ll do.”
Grant nodded, affirming his stance.
“Thank you. Under the circumstances, that’s gracious of you both.”
Gracious? Grant was active duty. He was compelled. Madison wasn’t, but citizens, too, had a duty to assist and a compelling interest in national security. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She didn’t know exactly why.
“This is a special case because so much either initiated at the Nest or occurred here. Crawford having access, and now both Dayton and Lieutenant Blake being insiders and indisputably involved in the Crane and David Pace murders...I can’t just haul them into a military court.”
“Dayton knows too much,” Madison said. A vice had to know everything. If anything happened to the commander, the vice had to be prepared to step in and not miss a beat.
“That’s part of it.” Talbot rocked forward, half leaned on his desk. “I’ve had doubts about him, so I’ve withheld everything I could withhold and still remain functional.”
“What brought about those doubts?” Madison asked.
“Actually, you did.” He almost smiled. “Your persistence about the satellite images on the David Pace matter. I thought if you were pushing that hard, it wasn’t to see what was in those images—it was to confirm what you already knew was in those images.”
“You’d be right,” Madison said. “Pace wasn’t burned, was he? He was put in the car after it exploded, and it didn’t explode where it was found.”
“Right on all counts.”
“The physical evidence didn’t hold up with the public story, so the cases were sealed.”
“That’s correct. The forensics told a very different story.”
“So where did David Pace die?”
“In the woods on the Nest’s perimeter, about ten meters from your favorite observation point.”
She had the grace to blush. “I see.”
His eyes sparkled, but he refrained from saying more and shifted back to his original topic. “Because I could no longer trust Dayton, I had to lean more heavily on Renée. She has access to a continuity log and a disclosure letter for my replacement, in case of an emergency.”
“Mrs. Renault?” Grant stiffened in his seat. “But she’s a civilian outside the chain of command.”
Talbot leveled his gaze. “She was a commander’s wife for two decades, she has the necessary clearances, and after her husband’s death I’ve made sure those clearances remained intact and current.”
That was news to Madison, but not wholly surprising. Mrs. Renault had always been very devoted to the troops. “Why did you do that?”
Talbot’s voice softened. “There are things that occur at an installation that a spouse knows and more one intuits. Though we’d prefer to insulate them entirely, that’s not practical or even possible. This was recognized some time ago, and leadership determined that ignorance endangered them most, so a limited amount of information is disclosed to best protect them and give spouses what they need to protect themselves. There are considerable security considerations that factor in.”
Madison knew this to be true. More often than the public realized, attempts to influence commanders were attempted through threats on their families.
Talbot thumbed the edge of his cup. “When my wife died, with John Renault’s permission, I asked Renée if she’d be a surrogate and do for me and my troops what she did for her husband’s—the professional duties of a commander’s spouse. It was asking a lot, yet she graciously agreed.”
“But you weren’t even stationed here then.” Madison worked to wrap her mind around this.
“No, I wasn’t. But commanders are a close-knit group,” he said. “Who better understands us or our challenges than each other? And who else can we talk to about them? No one.”
Madison certainly saw the truth in that. “I see your point.”
He craned back his head, lifting his chin. “Renée did a wonderful job, even long-distance. Do you know she flew to my headquarters every three months to meet with the spouses and encourage the troops?”
“No, sir. I didn’t know that.” Madison knew back then that Mrs. Renault took frequent trips, because she wouldn’t be at church. But when she asked about her, everyone said she’d gone to visit family. And in a sense, Madison supposed she had—her military family.
Talbot’s voice softened. “She seemed to know everything about everyone—their children, their troubles, what was most on their minds. Everyone adored Renée...including me.” He paused, as if reliving fond memories, and then added, “After John died and I took over the command here, I offered to find someone else, but Renée said there was no need. She’d be happy to continue. I think it made her feel still connected to her military family and to John, and of course it was extremely beneficial to me. Grant can tell you. She’s revered by the troops here.”
“She is in a league of her own with all of them.”
Talbot lowered his voice. “Frankly, I was relieved that she was willing to carry on. Renée is a remarkable asset, and I trust her.”
He didn’t come across as being in love with her, though until now, Madison and everyone else in North Bay believed he was. It was more like deep admiration and respect—almost hero worship.
Madison didn’t know quite what to make of that, but it struck her as odd. Not the admiration and respect. That she totally understood. But hero worship?
Something was off there. She filed a mental note to revisit the matter when she could focus fully on it. “So what is the problem, sir?”
“Dayton and Blake.” Talbot lifted a hand. “Regardless which one of them we’re discussing, many of the crimes committed, including the murders of Beth Crane and David Pace, were committed in civilian communities and not on military installations. That gives civilian authorities jurisdiction. Yet it’s vital to national security that we not release either Dayton or Blake to civilians.”
“Blue Shoes’s crimes take in the breadth of the country,” Madison said. He’d launched multiple attacks on Maggie Mason from multiple states, and on Della Jackson also.
“Yes, they do.”
“But you can’t take them to military court, either?” Grant asked. “Courts-martial?”
“If I do, both will spill their guts about the Nest.” Talbot frowned.
“Problematic either way.” Grant looked at Madison.
No way would the powers that be over the Nest and above Talbot allow either of those two options to happen. Madison had no doubt about that. “So you’re at odds on what to do with them.”
“Actually, that part of this has been resolved. Both men will remain in custody here.” He rubbed at his temple. “The problem is that they’re citizens as well as soldiers. I can’t hold them without a trial.”
They were entitled to due process, and nothing in Madison could ignore their rights and be at peace about it.
“What about a military tribunal?” Grant asked. “A case could be made for one based on the special circumstances. Enemy combatants?”
“A case has been made, but because of the nature of the special circumstances, leadership decided against a tribunal. The bean counters put the odds of a leak on the Nest at ninety percent.”
In Madison’s mind, the bean counters had been conservative. The case would leak. The accused or its counsel would see to it. “So what has leadership decided to do?” Clearly, the decision already had been made. This discussion with her and Grant wasn’t to reach a decision; it was to inform them of one. Why that was necessary Madison hadn’t yet concluded.
“Leadership wants a pretrial consensus. They’ll review determinations and find
ings and, if they agree that sufficient protections are afforded the men, they’ll hold a closed trial at their level and render a verdict for us to enforce.”
“A pretrial consensus.” Madison had been exposed to a lot in the legal world, but nothing like this. “What exactly is that?”
Talbot nodded. “Vetted individuals familiar with the case review the evidence, hear from the defendants and render conclusions based on the merits.”
“Merits of the charges?” Madison asked.
“Conclusions on all of it—charges, evidence, testimony of the defendants—everything—in the form of a report on determinations and findings. That’s where we run into a substantial challenge.” Talbot’s eyes clouded. “Dayton claims Blake is Blue Shoes. Blake says Dayton is Blue Shoes. Frankly, I don’t think Blake is sharp enough. Dayton is plenty sharp, but I don’t think he’s crazy enough to do the things Blue Shoes has done, going all the way back to Della Jackson’s case.”
Blue Shoes had made several attempts to kill Della and set up her ex-husband, Jeff Jackson, to take the fall. Subsequently, the serial killer, Gary Crawford, had confessed to those crimes. “Blue Shoes wasn’t exactly sane on Maggie Mason’s case, either.” He’d blown up an outdoor Christmas tree, put dud bomb collars on her dog and her uncle and set bombs inside a church to blow up on Christmas Eve. And all those things Crawford also had claimed credit for doing, but over time the facts had proven to Madison that, while Crawford had committed some crimes against Maggie, Blue Shoes had committed more. That, too, had been by Blue Shoes’s design, and Crawford had confessed to everything, including killing Beth Crane and David Pace, to up his legendary status.
Talbot took a long drink of water from a bottle on his desk. “Since we can’t disclose a thing to outsiders, leadership is retaining jurisdiction and has ordered both men be detained at the Nest.”
“No hearings at all will occur,” Grant concluded. When Talbot nodded, Grant grimaced. “Can we do that legally?”
“The joint chiefs and attorney general agree that we can and must. They’ve conferred with the president and he’s signed off on it. I agreed with the stipulation that directives and specific orders based on our determinations and findings are issued and endorsed by all three.”
It was an effective cover-your-back stipulation to protect Talbot. “Does that stipulation extend to those working with you to develop the determinations and findings?” Surely he wouldn’t cover himself and hang his men out to dry.
He nodded. “Specifically stated. Everyone here is covered.”
“By what authority is leadership doing this? Executive privilege?” Madison guessed.
“Probably an executive order,” Grant said. “Or would he take a different venue, signing as Commander-in-Chief?”
“I wasn’t told, and honestly I don’t care,” Talbot said. “If all three agree it’s legal, I’m going to take it as legal.”
Fair in Madison’s view, since getting those three entities to agree on much of anything was always a steep mountain to climb and the Military Code of Justice no doubt didn’t cite situations that fit these highly unusual circumstances. “What about Congress and the Supreme Court? Were they consulted?”
Talbot looked her right in the eye. “I have no idea. But I’d be shocked if all three signed off without consults. In their positions, I wouldn’t.”
“Are you allowed to consult with the JAG?” Grant asked.
“I’m expressly limited to the need-to-know loop.”
Madison hadn’t foreseen the special challenges in a trial, but she had wondered where Dayton and Blake would be held long term. The Nest was the logical choice. Leavenworth likely had been considered, but transfers there would require long-term isolation in solitary confinement, and even then the leaks were a rational fear. There were always leaks. The need-to-know loop would never deliberately risk that. Not with the Nest in the middle of all this.
Grant propped his ankle on his knee, then rested his hand on top. “So why are we here?” He motioned between Madison and himself. “What exactly do you want us to do?”
“It’s substantial,” Talbot warned them. “Informally depose everyone involved—Della, Maggie, Paul Mason and Ian Crane—and anyone else you need to, match out the evidence and build the case. I’ll do what I can, but my ability to move freely is hampered—”
“By your position.” It was. Not only was he military, but also the commander, and he’d be enforcing the decisions made by leadership based on the outcome. He needed distance from the report. “Basically,” Madison cut to the chase, “you want us to build the case without letting anyone involved know we’re building the case?”
Talbot nodded. “It’s a huge task and we need to move rapidly to avoid legitimate complaints.”
“Sir, I think speedy trials are the least of the worries here.”
“It’s a matter of what is right, Grant. Leadership is trying to be fair and protect the interests of the nation. It needs the truth so that someone isn’t parked in isolation who doesn’t belong there.”
Sacrificed. Madison blinked hard.
“Since both men are in the military and their rights aren’t as restrictive as those for civilians, we have more latitude, but that compels us to be more diligent. We need a compelling, decisive package.”
Grant looked at Madison. When she nodded her agreement, he told Talbot, “We’ll develop a strategy and run it past you before moving on it.”
Talbot stood up. “I know you two will do your best. In fact, I’m counting on it.”
He was, Madison realized. For himself and for Beecher. Leadership was holding him totally responsible for all that had happened. She frowned. “Sir, has this jeopardized your promotion?”
“That promotion is insignificant to me, Madison. My reputation rests on the outcome of your investigation.” He shrugged, and then smiled. “I’m confident I’m in competent hands.”
Madison clasped Talbot’s hand. “We’ll do our best.”
“That’s all anyone can ask.”
She and Grant left Talbot’s office, spoke briefly to Beecher and then, on the way downstairs, Madison checked behind her to make sure the stairwell was clear. Discovering that it was, she asked Grant, “Was he talking about our hands being competent?”
“Maybe, but he might have been reaching a little higher.”
“God?”
Grant shrugged. “That’s where I’d be reaching.” He paused on the landing. “If this investigation doesn’t go well, his career is history.”
Madison sobered and looked Grant in the eye, pausing on the stair above the landing. “I’m glad to hear that—not about his career, but that you’d be reaching to God. And it doesn’t hurt to know that Talbot isn’t just a seat-warmer in church. You know what I mean.”
Grant sent her a puzzled look. “Not really.”
“I’ve come to respect him. Mrs. Renault has feelings for him that run a lot deeper than she admits. His feelings for her trouble me a little, but it’s good to know he’s a godly man.”
“What’s your point?”
“Hero worship. It’s natural in some cases, but for a man in his position...I’ve never seen it.”
“He’s still human, Madison. He should respect and admire Mrs. Renault. She’s gone the extra mile for him for years.”
“I know.” What exactly was troubling her about that? She couldn’t peg it. “But something there isn’t...quite right.”
“He feels guilty for being in love with her.”
“I thought so, too,” she admitted, gripping the metal banister. No doubt, his relationship with John Renault factored into that. “Now, I’m not so sure that’s it.”
“It what?” Grant asked. “What are you saying, Madison?”
“I don’t know—yet. I’ve just got this feeling. Something doe
sn’t sit quite right. I’m not saying it’s bad or good, just that something there is not as it should be.”
“But you respect him. Does that mean you’ve forgiven him for detaining you?”
They stepped outside. A gush of crisp air slapped Madison in the face. She nodded, and brushed a hank of hair out of her eyes. “He was doing what he had to do, and I’ll tell you a secret I discovered during that exchange we just left.”
“What?”
“He didn’t detain me because he thought I was guilty. He detained me to protect me from Dayton.”
“You’re likely right about that, but what made you decide that in this meeting?”
Madison struggled to streamline her sinuous thoughts. “He knows Dayton and Blake are guilty, and yet he’s giving them the benefit of doubt. He doesn’t want to be wrong, or to see them sacrificed.”
Dawning lit in Grant’s eyes. “No one is to be lost.”
“Exactly.”
Grant unlocked the door to his Jeep and they climbed inside. “When he ordered me to infiltrate your agency, he didn’t say he was being protective, but his questions and orders took that slant. I wasn’t sure if that was true or just me wanting it to be true.”
Madison shut the door and then buckled her safety belt. “I think he’d sacrifice himself before he hurt Mrs. Renault. If he thought I was a danger to her, he’d have jerked her out of my reach so fast, her head would still be spinning.”
Grant paused, then grunted. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I agree.”
Madison lifted her hands. “So where do we start?”
“Background.” He buckled up. “Where else?”
“Then I need thinking fuel.”
“What kind?” Grant cranked the ignition.
“Key lime pie from Miss Addie’s—it’s the best. And coffee. If no one else can know what we’re doing and time is of the essence, then you realize we’re going to be pulling a lot of late nights.”