Geri Krotow - Navy Justice

She wished she could spill it all to Shelly. More than a receptionist, she’d been another woman in service and a strong ally while Joy worked here.

You can’t tell anyone. For their sake .

“Hi, Shelly. Nope, not bored. I’m getting ready to start my new job and wanted to stop by and see Dennis. Is he in?” She knew he was; he’d just texted her. It was paramount that her presence back on base look like nothing more than a friendly drop-in.

“Sure is. Let me tell him you’re here.”

Thirty seconds later, Joy sat across from Navy Commander Dennis Leighton, the JAG who’d relieved her.

“Are you in trouble, Joy?” he asked abruptly. They’d spent too many hours working together for Dennis to believe she’d stop in for a coffee chat.

“Not exactly. But someone close to me may be. I have to tell you up front that I can’t give you any information, and that I’m taking advantage of the two days remaining before my ID has to be turned in.” Joy had resigned her commission, and since she didn’t have enough years, she wouldn’t be retiring and getting a new retiree’s ID. Once her terminal leave was over, she’d be a total civilian. No more shopping at the base commissary, no more cosmetic purchases at the Navy Exchange, no more gym workouts on base. Certainly no showing up at her former command, looking for what might be classified information that she no longer had clearance for.

“I trust you implicitly, Joy. You wouldn’t be here unless you believed in what you were doing.” Dennis leaned back in his chair, his desk filled with files and stacks of paper.

“I know you have a heavy caseload,” she said. NCIS had infiltrated a drug ring in the enlisted barracks, and the resulting arrests had given the legal department a year’s worth of defense work. Now with the offshore explosion, the JAG office could be inundated with testimony and the legalities created by a possible terrorist act.

“That’s also why I know you’re here for a very good reason. What do you need, Joy?” Dennis looked relaxed, his head tilted slightly, his hands clasped behind his head as he tipped his chair back. Joy knew his calm demeanor was deceptive. Dennis was a gifted lawyer who would go far, whether he stayed in the Navy or got out to make his mark in the civilian courts. He was observing her closely, looking for every nuance in her expression. She’d expect no less.

“I need access to the cases I worked on almost two years ago.” Three tours ago, by Navy standards. After Norfolk she’d gone on to a quick tour on the USS Abraham Lincoln based in Everett, Washington, and then did her last tour here on Whidbey.

Dennis blinked. He clearly hadn’t expected this. “You want me to go into the Navy JAG database and retrieve them?”

She shook her head. “No. I want the original paperwork. The archived hard copies.” She needed to see for herself whether she’d missed something important that had put Brad’s life, or that of General Grimes, at risk today.

Dennis lowered his arms onto the desk and leaned toward her.

“They’re in a basement in DC, Joy. If they haven’t been destroyed by now. Which, most likely, they have.”

“You know as well as I do that those files won’t be destroyed for another decade.” The backlog of paperwork in the legal field was staggering. Even more so when it involved something as high-profile as terrorism.

Once she’d agreed to defend Farid based on Brad’s testimony, she’d had to wrestle with the possibility that Brad had been brainwashed by the same Taliban group his SEAL team and General Grimes’s command had infiltrated and taken out. She’d had to make certain that his testimony, intended to free Farid from a possible death sentence, wasn’t based on a sense of guilt at having sold out Farid’s village leaders. It would’ve been so much easier to let Brad’s almost zealous drive to free his friend convince her that he was an unreliable witness and that she had no business trying to help Farid.

But she’d never been one for taking the easy road or the convenient one. She had to be able to look herself in the mirror every day, knowing she’d done her best. Brad wasn’t a war-damaged SEAL—he was a good man who refused to let an innocent man take the rap for something he hadn’t done. Brad’s intensity had sparked the most intense legal work of her career. He demanded nothing less than her utmost ability as an attorney and as a Naval officer.

“I have to see those files, Dennis.”

“I can request them, Joy, but I need to show cause.”

“Tell them one of the defendants in the barracks drug ring that NCIS is investigating is former special ops, that he’s claiming PTSD, and inhumane treatment during his time downrange made him snap and get involved in drugs here.”

Dennis shot her a rueful grin. “You always managed to get what we needed, Joy.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“I can try, but no promises. Even if they’ve got them, you could be talking boxes and boxes of paper. How will you know which one has what you need?”

“I’ll know. Can you have them FedEx the boxes to my house?”

“Hell, no. I can get them sent here if I’m lucky.”

“My ID runs out—”

“In two days. I remember.” His comment stoked her guilt. She’d been unable to make things work with Dennis except at work. He’d often hinted that he’d like their relationship to become more after she got out, but there’d never been any chemistry between them. Not for her, at least. She hadn’t offered him the slightest encouragement. Yet he still knew her last day of active duty.

He was handsome, excellent at his job and would never think of asking her to break the law.

Dennis glanced at his watch. “I’ll send a system request and follow it up with a phone call to a buddy of mine who’s working at headquarters. If we’re lucky we’ll get the boxes by tomorrow. That’ll give you a day to look at them. You’ll have to come in to base to do it. I can’t let you have access to anything after your terminal leave expires, Joy. You’ve already been read out.”

Unspoken was the fact that Dennis was breaking the law by allowing her access to classified material after she’d been read out of her clearance.

“I’ll sign a temporary clearance waiver.”

Dennis nodded. “Yes, you will. I trust you, Joy, but the system could end my career over this.”

“I understand. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Thank me when the boxes get here and you figure out who the bad guy is.”

* * *

FRUSTRATION SEETHED THROUGH BRAD. As powerful as Joy’s binoculars were and as advantageous as the view from her sunroom was, he couldn’t make out the US platforms—boats and aircraft—at the explosion site. Had anyone realized it was a SAM that had exploded? Did the Navy think it’d been a less hostile explosion, meant as a warning to the aircraft training from the base?

Won’t your boss be worried that you were killed in the explosion?

Unlikely, as Mike didn’t know he was anywhere near the boat that had blown up. Plus, they’d been through the same SEAL indoctrination in San Diego years ago. Mike knew his capabilities as well as he did himself.

He thanked his handy-dandy SEAL training for having a car trunk full of survival gear that had ultimately saved his life.

The scent of Joy’s laundry detergent wafted up with each step he took toward the kitchen. At least his clothes were clean, and he’d had a long, hot shower.

His stomach grumbled, and he checked the time. He’d told Joy not to call him on her house phone, not to have any communication unless they were face-to-face. She’d pick up a burner phone at Walmart sometime today, and then he could start making calls of his own.