Julia Spencer-Fleming - One Was a Soldier

“That’s a problem, all right.” The chief frowned. “Tell you what, let me run it by Judge Ryswick. If he says it’s okay, we’re covered. I wouldn’t have an answer for you until at least tomorrow, though. Are you staying in the area?”

Colonel Seelye unbuttoned her jacket and slipped her hand into an inside pocket. “Let me give you my cell number.” She retrieved a business card and a pen. She flipped the card over and scribbled on the back. “Just give me a call as soon as you know. Fort Drum isn’t nearby, but it’s not at the other end of the country.”

She handed her card to the chief, who took it, smiling. “I’ll do that.”

“Then we’re all set for now.” She looked at the private. “Let’s go.”

The younger man nodded. He headed for their car, the colonel two steps behind him.

“And let me just say, on behalf of my whole department”-the chief had the solemn sincerity of a six-dollar Hallmark card-“thank you for your service.”

Both the MPs paused. A twinge passed over Colonel Seelye’s face so fast Hadley would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching her closely. “Um. Thank you, Chief Van Alstyne.”

The chief stood there, a sticky-sweet smile on his face, as they got into the government car and as they drove away. When the MPs were out of sight, the smile dropped away. His face set in grim lines.

“What was that all about?”

“I’m not sure, but it wasn’t about Tally McNabb being AWOL.” He dug his phone out of his pants pocket. “When a soldier’s missing, the battalion’s military police post sends a couple low-level warrant officers out. Like you and Kevin hauling in someone who’s blown off a court date.” His eyes narrowed. “That colonel is an investigator. She doesn’t waste her time on fugitive specialists. She’s not attached to the 10th Soldier Support Battalion in Fort Drum, New York, either. She’s with the U.S. Army Finance Command. Which is based in Indianapolis.”

“How could you tell?”

He tapped his shoulder. “Her patches.” He flipped open the phone. Thumbed a number. “Hi, Lyle? Russ. I have a question about the paperwork you went through at McNabb’s house.” He paused. “You said she was pretty well organized, right? Did you see any documents related to her service? Could have been enlistment papers, evaluations-yeah? Okay, did you see anything indicating she had been discharged or separated?” He nodded to the phone. “Okay. Thanks.” Another pause. “I’ll catch you up at the five o’clock. ’Bye.” He flipped the phone shut. “Lyle says she had her whole service record in one folder. Including discharge papers from this past May.”

“Is it a bad time?” In the bright afternoon sunlight streaming through Will Ellis’s hospital window, Clare could see the white-coated outline of the man sitting next to the bed, but she couldn’t make out the details.

“No, it’s me.” Trip Stillman stood up. “I’m not officially here. I mean, I’m not here as Will’s doctor.”

Clare came into the room, half-closing the door behind her. “I’m not officially here, either.”

“Does that mean you’re not here as my priest or not here as my mom’s friend?” Will’s voice was weak but welcome. The fact that he had already been moved to a regular room was a testament to his physical strength.

“I guess I’m here as your brother in arms. Sister in arms?” She took Will’s hand. “How are you doing?”

“Better.” He gripped her hand. It felt like a small child squeezing a stuffed animal. “Really. Better. There’s this hospital counselor I’ve been talking to, and Sarah’s come to see me…” He took a breath, as if speaking two sentences in a row tired him out. “Mostly, I was finally honest with my parents about how freaking mad I’ve been.” He looked at Clare. “It was like you said, remember? Everybody wanted so much for me to feel better. It was like I was letting the team down if I felt pissed off or screwed over.”

“How do you feel now?” Clare asked.

“Like I want my damn legs back. Every minute of every day, I wish I was normal again. That’s not going to change.” He shook his head, a slow roll back and forth against the hospital pillow. “But, Jesus, I’m glad I’m not dead.”

Stillman leaned forward and awkwardly touched Will’s shoulder. “We’re all glad you’re not dead.”

Clare took a deep breath. “Listen. I’ve got something to tell you, and it’s not good news, but I think you should hear it first from me instead of stumbling over it in the paper or something.”

Stillman rose. “I’ll give you your privacy, then.”

“No, Trip, wait. This is for you, too.” The doctor sank back into his chair, frowning. Clare blanked for a moment. Then she remembered what Russ had said once about delivering bad news. Get to the worst of it fast. “Tally McNabb was found dead at her home yesterday afternoon.”

“What?” Both men spoke at once.

“She died from a single gunshot to the head. The police are investigating. They say it looks like suicide, but they can’t confirm it yet.”

“Oh, God.” Will shut his eyes. “Did I-do you think she got the idea from me?”

“No, I don’t. I was here the night they brought you in. I talked with her. There wasn’t anything in what she said or how she acted that made me think she wanted to do herself harm.”

Stillman had slid his PalmPilot from his coat and was tapping through screen after screen. “I don’t think she was suicidal,” he said. “I don’t see anything here suggesting that was an issue.”

Clare raised both eyebrows. “You keep notes on our therapy sessions?” Her voice was pointed.

“Yes. Not to show them to anyone.” He sat stiffly upright. “It’s an old habit instilled in medical school. Over the years, it’s been very useful. Lifesaving, at times.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little-” She cut herself off. One of their group was dead. Another hospitalized. Compared to that, a crack in the wall of confidentiality was nothing. “Never mind. I agree with you. About her frame of mind. I don’t think she killed herself.”

“You mean she was murdered?” Will’s shocked voice was a reminder of how young he really was.

“Do the police have a suspect?” Stillman asked.

“They’re looking for her husband. He hasn’t been seen since sometime before her body was found.”

Stillman nodded. “I’ve heard it’s usually the husband or boyfriend in situations like this.”

“In Tally’s case, you can take your pick. She had an affair with an MP when she was in-country. He came looking for her twice this past summer.” Clare’s shoulders twitched. “Maybe he finally caught up with her.”

They all sat with that thought for a while. Finally, Will said, “I feel like we let her down.”

Clare shook her head. “No. What could we have done? She didn’t show any signs that she was in an abusive relationship.” Even as she said it, she thought of Tally’s disappearance back in the summer. Moving from friend to friend, eating at the soup kitchen.

“She said she was tired of always being afraid. Remember?” Will looked to Stillman for confirmation.

The doctor bit the inside of his cheek. “That phrase suggests to me she was tired of the fear you bring back with you.” He spoke carefully, doling out his words one by one. “The stuff you know is foolish, but you just can’t put it behind you. Like trying to find a mortar shelter when the town fire alarm whistle goes off.”

“Or being afraid to fall asleep.” Clare didn’t realize she had spoken out loud until both men looked at her. She shrugged. “Nightmares.”