Chapter 35
Colonel Jefferies, the new commander of the
Grasping his hand firmly, she made direct eye
contact, “Good morning to you, sir.”
He indicated that she should sit and he returned
to his chair as well. For a moment he
glanced down at the folder in front of him before closing it.
The colonel looked to be in his fifties, his
grey hair was cut in a high and tight military crew cut and the brown eyes that
regarded her were hard.
Since graduating from her school over two years
before,
“Well, your resume is quite remarkable,
lieutenant,” he began, tapping the folder.
“My predecessor, Colonel Brinkman, was quite taken with you. Your work ethic appears to be higher than
average, with signs of innovative thinking that led to your previous
assignment.” He opened the folder again,
as if to confirm something before he continued.
“I must say that it’s not often that a unit has
the good fortune to have a Silver Star recipient as the officer in charge. Not in the intelligence
field, anyway.” As she listened,
“…now that you’ve returned to work full time,
I’m sure you’d agree that our offices are a bit more businesslike.”
“I’m sorry, sir, what was that?”
“Your attire. I was saying that I’m sure you’d agree that
since you are no longer in a field assignment, more appropriate attire would be
your class A uniform. You are my officer in charge,
and as such, I believe you should set a proper example for others to follow,
particularly the women.”
Particularly the women? What the hell is
that about?
“Actually, sir I believe that any issued uniform
is appropriate work attire, as long as it is clean and pressed, regardless of
the gender of the wearer.”
“Your opinion is noted, lieutenant, but under my
command, daytime uniforms will be class A.”
“Just one more thing.”
He tapped his finger on the desk as if considering his next words.
Standing now,
“I hear you play softball on the women’s team,
is that right?”
“I plan to play this year, yes sir, now that my
leg is healed.”
“See that it doesn’t interfere with your work
obligations, lieutenant.” His expression
was cold.
“Thank you for coming in. Carry on.”
Inside the office, the colonel again opened the
folder on his desk. He paged through the
awards and commendations until he came to the section he was looking for. He reread the summary of the CID report from
1982 which had concluded that not enough evidence existed to charge the
lieutenant with engaging in homosexual conduct.
He then extracted several pictures of three
women walking together in civilian clothes.
He recognized two of the women, James and Petty Officer Baxter. The accompanying notes identified the photos
as having been taken as they stepped out of a known lesbian bar in
“Did you get the information I sent over?” Honeycutt inquired.
“Yes. I
just met with her. She is every bit as cocky as you said she would be.”
“Well, this time, I’m running the show,” Honeycutt sneered, “she got away from me
once, and I don’t like losing.”
Jefferies nodded, “Agreed, and this time I’m her commander. A few fancy ideas aren’t going to cloud my
judgment like her last boss. Any man
would have done what she did over there in the Middle East. Makes me sick how they’re gushing over her
every day.”
“If she continues to be careless by going to
these places, she’s going to make my job much easier,” Honeycutt said with
satisfaction. “I’ll let you know when we get something else.”
With that the connection was severed. Jefferies replaced the phone in the cradle
and looked down at the picture of Devon James attached to the left side of the
folder. Below it, he saw the recommendation from Colonel Brinkman for promotion
to captain as soon as possible. “That is never going to happen.” He said flatly as he closed the folder.
#
Crack. The ball hit sharply between second and third
base. Devon lay out, extending fully to
her right, snatching the line drive shot out of the air for the third and final
out of the game, sealing the win.
Great job, ladies! Outstanding hustle.” Mac walked from the dugout across the third
base line, clapping loudly, expressing her appreciation at the team’s
effort. The Army and Navy women’s
softball teams formed up and shook hands down the line. Mac stepped up at the end of the line to
congratulate the Navy women on the game they had just completed. As Ann passed, she grasped her hand and then
risked a pat on her rear as she passed.
“Great game,” she grinned.
Ann smiled back, “Thanks, coach.”
Devon trotted to the dugout to retrieve her gear
and Mac came up behind her as she was packing the last of her stuff in the
bag. “Great catch there at the end,
buddy.”
Grinning up at her friend, Devon said, “thanks.
I do what I can.”
“How about I buy you a beer and a sandwich or
something?”
“Sounds good, you know me, always hungry,” Devon
laughed. “Is Ann coming?”
“No, she’s got something going on tonight,” Mac
looked a bit distracted.
“’Kay, I guess it’ll be just like old times
then,” Devon threw her bag over her right shoulder as they walked.
A short time later, they settled onto stools at
a local pub. Mac ordered a pitcher of
beer and a dozen wings. Devon ordered a
cheese steak sandwich and fries. When
Mac raised an eyebrow, she assured her, “We’ll share.”
After the beer came and they both enjoyed the
first taste, Devon looked seriously at Mac.
“I got called in to meet the new colonel yesterday.”
Mac could read the unease in her friend’s
posture and tone. She watched a muscle
twitch under Devon’s left eye, a sure sign that she was troubled. “What’s up?”
Devon heaved a long sigh and took another drink
from her beer, before shaking her head, “I don’t know, maybe nothing, but I
just feel uneasy around him.”
Mac nodded, “What’d he say?”
Devon laughed bitterly, “He said that we
couldn’t wear our fatigues during the dayshift anymore, because, you know….it’s
not ladylike.” Devon rolled her eyes.
“He didn’t say that.” Mac stared wide-eyed.
“No, but that was his meaning,” Devon said, “He
said I should be a good example, especially for the women.”
Mac laughed out loud now, “No! What a
jackass.”
“Yes, then he asked if I play softball.”
“God! Am
I ever glad I’m getting out of this bullshit,” Mac sighed, “You know that
softball is their code word for lesbian, right?”
“Yeah, I got that,” Devon smiled sadly. “I just
can’t believe that this fucking shit never goes away.”
“That’s why I’m getting out.” Mac agreed.
“So, how’s that job offer going, did you hear
anything yet?”
“Actually, I did, this morning,” Mac was smiling
broadly now.
“You did! Tell me,” Devon’s excitement for her
friend was evident.
“I have been offered a job in Tampa. All I have
to do is go through their field training program
and a couple of years on the street. After that, I’ll pretty much be given one of
the pilot’s positions. Apparently, they
don’t have too many female combat helicopter pilots applying.”
Devon raised her glass to Mac, “Well, that is
outstanding! Good for you.” She stood
and moved around the table to give Mac a warm hug. “That’s awesome, but I’m sure gonna miss you.”
“Hey, I’m not gone yet, and I’m going to be a
slave driving coach until I leave,” Mac’s eyes twinkled. They sat in comfortable silence enjoying
their food for a few minutes before Mac spoke again. “You think this dickhead Jefferies is going
to be a problem for you?”
Devon shrugged, “I really don’t know what his
deal is,” she took a generous bite of her sandwich and swallowed it down with a
gulp of beer. “I just want to do my job
and be left alone, but I’m not going to cower to him or anybody.”
“Living through the things we have has a way of
putting priorities in rigid order, huh?”
Mac offered.
“That it does.” Devon agreed.
Chapter 36
Mac awoke unsettled after a restless night. Actually, it was more like giving up
believing that sleep would come when she got out of bed just before sunup. She pulled on the faded green Notre Dame
t-shirt, the gold lettering across the chest cracked and worn, along with a
pair of grey cotton shorts that lay on the floor next to the bed. Padding barefoot down the stairs from the
loft bedroom, she turned on the tap, letting it run a few seconds to get cold
and bent to gulp water until she needed air.
Then she splashed cold water onto her face and wiped it roughly dry with
a towel that hung on the handle of the stove.
She moved to the coffee pot and began filling
the basket with coffee grounds. The
digital clock on the front of the machine glowed 0510. “I’ve got to start
getting more than three hours of sleep,” She said aloud.
Sighing,
she added two extra scoops of coffee, poured the water in to the reservoir and
snapped on the power switch. Finding a
banana and toasting an English muffin, she removed the carafe from the coffee
maker just as it finished enough for her first cup, grateful for the pause
feature; she filled a large mug to the top.
With her breakfast in hand, she settled onto a stool at the kitchen
counter, her thoughts swirling through her mind like a funnel cloud.
Munching on the muffin, she wondered why she had
chosen this place as her exit base, with all the other choices she had. She had thought that it would finally give
her closure. Yeah, right. Did she really think it would be easy to be
back here? How could she think that
returning to the scene of the crime would make it alright? She squeezed her eyes tightly to force back the
memories that sprang to life with ever more frequency and clarity each day that
she was back. Images of Megan’s face
skittered across her closed lids followed immediately by the two of them
sharing a passionate kiss, Mac running her fingers through the silky strands of
red hair, dragging her mouth down to her soft creamy breasts toward a perky
tight nip—she snapped her eyes back open to escape back to the present.
Her body was jittery, her insides humming with
nerves. She felt the familiar aching pressure
in her chest that always accompanied the memory of the only woman she had ever
loved. Mac cupped her palm to her
forehead as if to push the images away from her eyes, she drew a deep breath to
clear her thoughts. Instead, a crystal
clear vision of standing in the doorway and seeing Megan making love with
another officer assaulted her. Fuck me.
Taking the stairs two at a time, she yanked open
a dresser drawer, removing a sport bra.
After putting it on and replacing her t-shirt, she laced up her running
shoes and headed out into the humid July morning. The first hints of pink were beginning to
seep in to the horizon as Mac began her run.
Yes, this is what she needed; she would run the anxiety and pain from
her heart and clear her mind. Even as she
began, she wondered how she was ever going to drive the memories of that woman
and that betrayal from her soul.
#
The following Friday, Devon parked outside Mac’s
apartment building in Laurel, MD, just outside of Ft. Meade. She couldn’t stop thinking about the odd
sound to Mac’s voice when she called to ask Devon to come by. Something was wrong, Devon just hoped that
whatever it was, she would be able to help her friend sort things out.
She climbed out of the jeep in front of the
townhouse and knocked on the screen door.
Mac pulled the door open seconds later and Devon followed her
inside. Mac was wearing an old faded cut
off Army t-shirt, equally faded jeans and she was barefoot. She led Devon through the living room to the
kitchen, where she pulled a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses down from
the cabinet.
“I remember where I know that woman from,” she
said without preamble as she poured them each a shot.
Devon was lost, “I’m sorry, what woman?”
“The
woman from the bar.”
Devon searched her memory, recalling the
brunette who watched them at the club. “Oh, yeah. Susan, right?”
“Right.
Only that’s probably not her name.
She works for CID as an informant.
She was involved in the investigation of some of my friends before I went
overseas. Some of them got arrested
because of that bitch.” Mac’s bitterness
was evident. Devon recalled once when
they had discussed the past, Mac was upset, but she never explained.
Devon blew out a breath. “Christ, and I let her
just sit right down at our table, I’m sorry.”
“You couldn’t know. I’m sure she recognized me though. That had to be why she was watching us.”
“So, we are under investigation again?” Devon’s
stomach churned with anger.
“I’m not worried, I’m leaving. It’s you and Ann that I’m concerned
about. That’s why I called you
tonight.”
“Do you think this has anything to do with my
meeting with the colonel last week?” Devon asked.
“I’m not a believer in coincidences.” Mac said.
“I have a friend who gave me a tip.
Do you know a guy named Honeycutt?”
Devon thought hard. The name seemed familiar, but she couldn’t
place it. She shook her head, “I don’t know.
Who is he?”
“Well, he knows you because he’s been asking
around. He is the new guy in charge of
the CID investigations in the Baltimore/D.C. area.”
The awareness hit Devon like a slap in the face.
“I do know him.” She rubbed her hands roughly over her face and slumped back
against the counter in frustration. It
felt like the demons from her past were closing in on her again. “He was investigating my ex-lover up in
Boston. She actually laid her hands on
him.”
Mac studied Devon’s distant pained look,
wondering not for the first time how many lives CID had fucked with in the name
of moral integrity and unit cohesion.
“She must have been pretty gutsy,” the
admiration in her voice was clear. “So
what happened to you two?” The two women
had grown very close during their time in Lebanon, the fast friendship growing
out of their many similarities. Now, Mac
understood with even more clarity how they were most alike. Neither one of them ever spoke of the women
who had broken their hearts.
Devon was at a loss of how to begin. She still had no answers to her
questions. Did Jillian really care about
her the way that she had thought? Or was
she another conquest, soon discarded after the chase was over? If she cared,
she certainly didn’t make any attempt to let Devon know it. Devon always believed that you could tell a
lot about someone’s true makeup by the way they act under adversity. Their truth comes to the surface. Jillian’s truth was that she didn’t stand by
their love, she ran when it got tough.
She pulled herself back from the painful
thoughts to regard her friend again.
“Sorry,” Devon downed another shot.
“Jillian. My first love,” she smiled sadly and shook her head. “What a
fool I was. I fell hard. I thought that
love would conquer all.” She laughed bitterly, “When the investigation heated
up, she hauled ass. At least she didn’t
pimp me out.”
“That is something redeeming.” Mac offered.
“I guess,” Devon shrugged. Devon looked out the window to the past, the
pain radiating from her as she spoke. “Anyway, she did tell me about Honeycutt. She said he was a real prick.”
“Well,” Mac said, “at least this time around,
you’re not involved with anyone, so there shouldn’t be much for him to
investigate.”
“Yeah, he might die of boredom watching me this
time around.”
“Maybe it’s nothing. I’m getting out, so there’s
no way he can touch me. Just be careful
around your new Colonel, Dev, I hear he and Honeycutt go way back.”
“Yeah,” Devon replied bitterly, “but so do
Honeycutt and I.”
Chapter 37
Even in the predawn darkness the air was thick
with humidity on the last day of July as Mac carried the last box of her
belongings to the pickup truck. She and
Devon had loaded up everything except the last essentials the night before so
that she could get on the road early today.
Her footsteps echoed off the empty walls as she made one last check to
make sure that she wasn’t forgetting anything.
As she passed the kitchen doorway, she caught sight of a yellow envelope
in the middle of the brown butcher-block counter top. Her name was written on
it in a large bold script and as she raised it in her hand, Mac caught the
scent of Ann’s perfume. Smiling, she
held it in front of her face and breathed in the fragrance.
The front of the card depicted a beautiful
sunset over the ocean as a sailboat drifted in the forefront, closer in to the
beach. Inside, Ann wrote, whenever I see the beauty of a sunset over
the water or a sailboat gliding gracefully through the waves, I will remember
our special time together. Be
happy. Always, Ann. With a heavy
sigh, Mac replaced the card in the envelope and looked around one last
time. Satisfied that she had everything
and was ready to go, she flipped the light switch, tossed the key onto a stand
by the window for the landlord and stepped out the front door.
“Hey.”
Mac heard the familiar voice as she strode toward the driver’s door of
the truck. She turned in the direction
of the greeting, surprised to see Devon leaning against the side of her jeep,
arms crossed over her chest and legs crossed at the ankles, a very serious
expression on her face.
“Whatcha doin’?” Mac was pleasantly surprised to
see her friend.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Devon shrugged, “so, you all
set?” her voice broke a little and she looked away quickly.
She hadn’t intended to get emotional in front of
Mac. It seemed so simple when she thought about coming to see her friend off,
now that she was here the thought of actually saying goodbye seemed
impossible. Mac was the only real friend
Devon had ever made, except Alex, and after all they had been through together,
she was pretty sure that Mac now knew her better than anyone on this
earth. Devon wasn’t sure what she wanted
to say, but she wanted Mac to know how grateful she was. In the distance, a flock of birds chirped
noisily heralding the coming dawn.
Yep, just threw in the last bag and locked up.”
Mac raised a dark questioning eyebrow at Devon.
“Forget something last night?”
Devon stuffed her hands in the front pockets of
her shorts and shifted her feet, moving some pebbles around with the toe of her
sneaker, then raised her eyes to look at her.
“Yeah, I did,” she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around
Mac’s mid section, burying her face in the other woman’s shoulder. Mac responded by firmly squeezing her in a
fierce bear hug and letting out a loud growl as she did. When they stepped back, both sets of eyes
were watery and the large lump in Devon’s throat hurt as she spoke, making her
voice sound oddly thick.
“I…I just wanted to make sure you didn’t leave
without telling you—thanks for well, everything. Your friendship, understanding—hell, my
life. I will never forget you.” A tear
escaped from behind the blond lashes and Devon brushed it impatiently away.
“Sorry I’m being such a marshmallow.”
Mac laughed out loud at that, a tears
threatening at the edges of her own eyes.
She hugged Devon tightly again, “Listen, you and I are going to be
friends for the rest of our lives, so stop with this ‘I’ll never forget you’
stuff. Of course you won’t because we
are going to be in touch and see each other again before you know it. I expect you to take some leave time and
visit me in Florida, you know.” She felt Devon draw a deep breath and nod.
“Good, now that that’s settled, you have nothing to thank me for; we were there
for each other. Don’t ever think I
didn’t need you just as much over there.”
Mac gave her one last squeeze and stepped
back. She reached out and took the tip
of Devon’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, lifting her face so their
eyes met. “I love you too, buddy.” Then she swiftly stepped from the embrace and
hopped behind the wheel of her idling pickup.
With one last look and a grin, she pulled away from the curb leaving
Devon staring after the taillights until they faded from view.
Chapter 38
Honeycutt stared disbelievingly at his two lead
investigators who had just finished giving him the verbal summary of their
latest report. Apparently it must be
full of blank pages because they had just admitted to him that several hundred
man-hours of surveillance had given them nothing on their subject.
He fixed them with a hard stare, “I could have
gotten nothing all on my own. What the hell do I need you two for?”
He could almost understand that the male agent
had come up empty, but he had specifically requested the female for this
assignment to take advantage of her good looks.
“Miller,” he addressed the female agent, “You are supposed to be the
bait. And, I thought you already knew
about the pilot. McKinley, is it?” He couldn’t believe his luck when he had
learned that Captain McKinley was a previous subject of investigation. What he couldn’t understand is how that
investigation had just stopped without explanation.
“Sir, I told you I don’t know her. I was assigned to another case during the
McKinley investigation. My boss closed
the investigation and everyone involved was reassigned.”
“Yes, and now she shows up again. She’s a close friend of James, and the two of
you are too incompetent to make a case before McKinley out processes. She was the key to making a case and you blew
it.” He fumed. “Can somebody please explain to me why six
months into this case we are no closer to our goal?”
“Sir,” the male agent said, “if we just had a
little more time, I’m sure we can get something on her. After all, we do have the pictures from the
club in Baltimore, a known lesbian bar.”
Honeycutt looked disgustedly at the two agents.
“And James can just say she went there with her friend. We already know that McKinley is a dyke, but I can’t go after her, now can I?”
“We also have the softball team—” Honeycutt
slapped his beefy hand on the desk, causing the junior investigators to
jump.
“I need more than that, you idiot!” He turned to Miller, “I thought you were
supposed to get us something from inside the club?”
Susan Miller willed her voice not to shake,
“Sir, I did make contact, but she wasn’t interested.”
“What do you mean? Your job is to make her interested.” Honeycutt’s eyes bored into her.
“I tried.” She looked away from her boss’
glare.
“Well, sweetheart, you will just have to try
harder. Listen you idiots, McKinley left
yesterday, so that will leave James alone.
My guess is it won’t take her long to seek out some companionship away
from the softball team. Christ, she’s
been back in the states over six months!” his voice was booming.
“Chief, she did get shot and lost a friend over
there, maybe there’s nothing to find.” Susan suggested weakly. She was beginning to dislike what felt like a
personal vendetta on the part of her chief.
“Please don’t remind me that one more deviant
received military honors for service before we had the chance to expose them.”
Suddenly, Susan really detested the fat
man. He continued, ignoring the
distasteful look on her face, “You just get back to that bar when she goes and
get me something I can use. She’ll slip up. You just make sure your there to
capitalize on her mistake.”
After the two agents left his office, Honeycutt
opened the file on the desk before him.
He stared at the picture of the one subject who had eluded him in recent
years. He remembered how the other one—what was her name again? Gray. That’s right.
Gray, her girlfriend, had actually struck him, and that soft SOB Martin
had made a deal with her anyway and James had walked away. Well, this time, there will be no deals. This time he would get her. He smiled to
himself as he closed the folder.