Chapter 42

When Susan entered the office at 0755, she was surprised to see a note on her desk instructing her to report to Chief Honeycutt’s office as soon as she arrived. Assuming that he wanted another update on the investigation, she dug her notebook out of her briefcase and took a minute to review them. Her partner ambled in and dropped into his chair at the adjoining desk, mumbling good morning as he sat. He appeared to be in no hurry to prepare for the meeting.

“Jerry, aren’t you coming?”

He looked up blankly, “Coming where?”

“I got a note to see the chief right away, didn’t you?” He shook his head slowly before again turning his attention to his desk. She frowned and collected her notes before making the trip down the hall to Honeycutt’s office.

Susan knocked on the open door, pausing at the doorway until the stout man behind the desk acknowledged her. “Come in,” he said in a clipped tone. She took a seat in front of his desk, clasping her hands in her lap on top of the folder containing her notes. After a few moments, he looked up from the open file he had been scrutinizing.

“Agent Miller, do you have a report regarding your work over the weekend?”

Susan was momentarily at a loss for a response. She tried to read anything in his face indicating what he was after. The chief’s usual cold stare revealed nothing. “Uh, sir, I was off this weekend, if you recall,” she offered, “Jones was on duty. If you’d like I can get him, he just came in.”

“That will not be necessary,” Honeycutt leaned back in the large leather chair, folding his hands on his large belly. He rocked back in forth staring at the female agent in front of him, apparently pleased to see her uncertainty growing with each moment that passed. Finally, he sat forward to pick up the file in front of him on the desk. “No report to file from this weekend,” he said absently as he shuffled through the contents of the folder. Susan’s anxiety mounted waiting for the chief reveal what he really wanted.

The chief pulled several photos from the file and flipped them across the desk at his subordinate. “I suppose then, you will have some plausible explanation for these?”

Susan could not stop the gasp that escaped her throat as she looked at the eight by ten glossies of her and Lieutenant James sitting inches apart at a table for two at the club. Someone else was in the club watching her watch James. The angle of the photos made their meeting appear much more intimate than it really was.

“I figured I would skip the question of whether you were at the Club Mitchell this weekend and save you the lie that you would have told.” He looked at the female investigator with unmasked contempt. “It’s enough to know that you were there with James, and that you obviously were not intending to file any kind of report about the contact with your target. I have to wonder why that would be.”

“Sir, I am not denying that I was at the club. I don’t know why I went. I thought maybe I might get some additional information, I guess. This meeting was entirely coincidental…” her voice trailed off as she looked at one picture of the lieutenant leaning towards her. She remembered that was when Devon was setting her drink on the table and getting ready to sit, but again, the angle of the picture and the grainy exposure gave the appearance of a more personal exchange. She had no doubt that was the precise intent of whoever took the picture.

“Who took these pictures?” She asked.

“That is irrelevant.” He snapped at her.

“Sir, as the lead investigator, I think I should know—” Honeycutt threw a large hand up to silence her.

“No, Miller, you are the former lead investigator. I am having you removed from the investigation, starting now.”

Susan jumped up, “Sir! You can’t do that. I’m in the middle of a case.”

“You are in the middle of compromising this whole investigation by becoming personally involved with the subject!” He shouted at her. “How dare you try to defend your actions? Your objectivity and your loyalties are completely in question. You can no longer function in this assignment. Maybe not in any investigative assignment.”

Susan stood with her mouth gaping, unable to believe what was happening.

“Sit down, Sergeant Miller.”

“Yes sir.” She sat stiffly in the wooden chair waiting for whatever was coming next.

The big man sat back again in his chair, appearing more relaxed and confident. He gazed past her out the window, stroking his chin as if in deep thought. When he leveled his gaze upon her again, his eyes were like shards of black glass.

“Here’s what is going to happen,” he began in a conversational tone, “you are going to write the report you should have written about this meeting you had.” He gestured at the photos on the desk. “And if you know what’s good for you, it had better support this photographic evidence. That is if you don’t want to end up being a codefendant in the indictment with your friend the lieutenant. Now, get out of my office.” He spat the last command at her.

Jones had made himself scarce when returned to her office. She tossed the folder onto her desk and sank heavily she was carrying onto her own and sank heavily into the vinyl desk chair. Susan leaned her head back and closed her eyes, replaying the meeting with Honeycutt in her mind. She sat up and removed a report form from the desk organizer. The blank page mocked her. Susan knew exactly what Honeycutt expected her to write. The only way to save her career was to write a report detailing how Lieutenant James approached her at a known lesbian bar and proceeded to make sexual advances towards her. And then there was the chief’s threat to prosecute her as well, something would have seemed impossible to her before the McKinley investigation.

Susan was a junior investigator and had only a brief contact with the captain, but she clearly remembered the suggestions that using whatever means necessary to expose McKinley was okay. She had never crossed that line but she knew others had.

She never wanted to believe the rumors surrounding that case, but when Captain McKinley returned and Honeycutt recruited her, Susan did some digging into the sudden closing of that investigation. It seemed that the case against McKinley depended upon the testimony of her lover, who had agreed to testify in exchange for an honorable discharge. Then, for an unknown reason, the case had simply been shelved.

Susan located a guy who worked in their records section for over twenty years and asked about the case. In a hushed tone he confided that rumor had it that the major in charge of the MP battalion, as well as CID, was screwing McKinley’s lover. When that came out, they dropped the investigation, quietly reassigned the major. Her lover was given her discharge and McKinley was granted a request for an overseas assignment. All the loose ends tied up, case closed. Of course, the sordid details are omitted from the report.

Pulling out the file on James, Susan paged through the familiar contents looking for whatever it was that had the chief obsessed with her. Scanning the pages of the official investigation, she saw nothing that she didn’t already know. The first notes were from 1982. Honeycutt was the case investigator of a woman with whom he believed James had been involved. The other woman eventually resigned her commission, but nothing ever came of the link to James. Is that why he can’t let it go, because he thinks she got away?

Refocusing on her own immediate concerns Susan again turned to the blank report page in hopes that a reasonable solution might suddenly appear before her on the page. Nothing. Glancing back over at the open folder, she stared at the picture of the blond lieutenant affixed inside the left cover. Flipping to the statistical information page, Susan scanned past the PT scores and training records to examine the awards section that described in black and white a real hero. Everything about her is exemplary, except that one thing that is making Honeycutt crazy.

That one thing. “You hypocritical bastard,” Susan snapped out loud. Moving the blank page in front of her, she picked up her pen and began to write the first of two reports. The reports she knew she had to write, regardless of the consequences.

#

Honeycutt picked up the receiver and dialed the phone on his desk. The call was answered on the first ring. “We have her.” His voice was triumphant.

“You’re sure this time?” Jefferies demanded. He was growing tired of the investigations chief jumping the gun, then calling back to say something went wrong.

“Yes, this time I am quite certain, colonel. I will have the report I need before lunch, one way or another.” He wasn’t sure what Miller was going to say in her report, but that didn’t matter. He had another more loyal investigator that had provided him with photographic evidence. That agent, if necessary would fill in the details that he needed to finally make this case stick. If Miller made the mistake of failing to expose James, then his new investigator would fine tune her report with the needed information.

“Excellent. When can I expect to hear from you again?” The colonel asked.

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll call when we are on the way. Just have James in the office by 0900, and we’ll take care of the rest.” He hung up the phone without further comment. He felt almost giddy imagining the possibilities of the next few days.

A sharp knock on his door pulled Honeycutt from his reverie. “Come.” The door opened and a small woman with short cropped blond hair entered the office. “Good morning, Karynn,” the chief smiled, “You did excellent work on Saturday night.”

She smiled back, “Thank you, chief. It was actually much easier than I thought it would be.”

“How so?”

“I was a bit surprised about Miller, but James has always been cocky, never making an attempt to hide her preference. It is sort of poetic justice that Miller became the bait without realizing it, though.”

His mouth twisted upward evilly. Holding his hand out to her, he asked, “Is that your report?”

“Yes sir,” she handed the paperwork across the desk, “I think you will find it to be quite complete.”

“I’m sure,” he accepted the pages, “but I need you to stick around a bit, just in case Miller’s report needs some—um—shall we say adjustment?”

Karynn assured him, “I’ll take care of whatever you need, chief.”

Chapter 43

A few minutes after nine Devon was manning the quick draw antenna, furiously scanning the known Hamas and Hezbollah frequencies and getting bearing readings on every signal she could capture. She had linked the computer terminal she was working on to the map printer and each time she fixed a target, a small image churned out of the laser printer on the wall behind her. The young airman that had recently joined the unit pulled the newest maps from the tray and moved to sit next to his boss, watching intently as she worked.

“Lieutenant,” he said quietly, “is it true that you were shot in the Middle East?”

Without looking away from the monitor, she answered, “Yes, why?” Her right index finger mashed the button sending the signal to the remote antennas taking readings of the next target. Devon swiveled in her chair, watching the printer, very pleased to see the fix show a target location in the vicinity of Beirut. “Gotcha.” She said aloud, grinning.

The airman seemed embarrassed. “Um, I just heard some of the guys talking and wanted to ask you myself.” She nodded at him as she began scanning the other frequencies. “Thanks for telling me.” He continued, “They say you saved a special ops major’s life. I am really honored to be working for you, ma’am.”

Devon turned to the young man and smiled, “You are doing a very good job, Kevin. I’m proud of how quickly you’ve learned to run all of the equipment. Keep up the good work.” The airman blushed and moved to the keyboard on the adjacent work station and began entering data.

“Lieutenant James, may I see you?” Colonel Jefferies stood in the doorway leading to the operations center, the bright light in the office area behind him casting him in silhouette and shadowing his face. The three enlisted men on Devon’s team automatically looked over at her in question, knowing that the colonel rarely made an appearance in the ops center.

“Certainly, sir,” she stood and followed him into the outer office area.

As they entered the colonel’s office, Devon’s blood immediately ran cold. Standing just inside the door was a heavyset man in a dark suit, accompanied by a short, blond woman also similarly attired. Just to their left, directly in front of the colonel’s desk stood two uniformed sergeants, large black and gold military police armbands encircling their upper left arms, .45 caliber pistols in the holsters on their hips. Devon moved only her eyes from the MP’s to Jefferies, who showed no emotion or reaction whatsoever.

“Lieutenant Devon James,” the plump man said as she stared at Jefferies, “You are hereby charged with violating the uniform code of military justice, conduct unbecoming an officer, to wit: engaging in homosexual conduct in direct violation of military regulation…” Devon could no longer hear his words over the pounding sound of her own heart in her ears. Jefferies stared at her emotionlessly as the MP’s came forward to handcuff her. They removed her security badge from around her neck and handed it to the colonel. “…relieved of duty,” the other man continued, “and remanded to CID custody until further notice.” He concluded as Devon’s head pounded.

“Let’s go,” the man obviously in charge said to the guards as the blond woman stepped toward the front door of the offices the way they had entered.

“No,” the colonel stopped her, “go out the back way, Honeycutt.”

At the sound of his name, Devon’s head snapped up and her eyes locked on his, a realization dawning on her. She stared at him, hate building within her. This was the man who had hunted Jillian and drove her away, now he was back to finish the job. She felt her blood boiling in her veins as he smirked at her.

As the MP’s took her out the back door, Devon realized that they wanted to take her out through the operations area, in front of her team so that they would see her being led away in handcuffs. Her stomach churned and bile rose up in the back of her throat as they pushed her through the doorway into the ops center. She fought the tears that threatened in her eyes as they led her past her coworkers who stared in disbelief.

The MP’s led Devon into the two story brick building that housed the Criminal Investigations Division. At the end of a maze of hallways they ushered her into a ten by eight room containing a metal table with three metal straight backed chairs around it, two on one side and one on the other. One mirrored window covered half of the wall next to the door. Otherwise the interrogation room was empty. The female that had accompanied Honeycutt entered.

“I don’t really think those handcuffs are really necessary anymore, gentleman,” she smiled pleasantly at Devon, “Please take them off and leave us alone.” The guards did as they were told, removing the metal rings encircling her wrists that had gouged deep purple indentations and actually cut the skin in several places. Devon moved her hands around in a circular motion to encourage the blood flow to return and rubbed dried blood from the palm of her right hand. The woman extended her hand toward the single chair at the table, “Lieutenant, please have a seat.”

Knowing it wasn’t a suggestion and having no other option, Devon did as she was directed and sat in the hard metal chair, folding her hands in front of her on the table. The smaller woman sat in one of the chairs across the table. Her hair was short cropped in an Annie Lennox kind of style and she wore a tasteful amount of makeup, the blush accentuating her high cheek bones, and a dusting of an eye shadow that was a sort of golden rust color making her deep brown eyes look larger. Blood red lipstick made her white teeth stand out as she spoke.

“May I get you some coffee, lieutenant? Tea? Water?” Devon held the woman’s gaze and shook her head, but said nothing. She knew that it was the woman’s job to try to get her to relax, act like her friend. The woman would have done better to wait here at the office if she wanted to have any chance at all of talking to Devon. She would never forget the image of her standing with Honeycutt while he read the charges. She waited, her eyes never leaving the woman’s. They weren’t friends.

“Well,” the woman shrugged, “I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Karynn,” she offered an unconvincing smile as she tried without success to read the lieutenant’s expression. “Devon,” she began again, feeling her way, “may I call you, Devon?”

“It is my name.”

“Okay, then, Devon,” Karynn leaned forward placing her palms down on the table and staring at Devon intently, “what I have to say now is very important. These investigations can get very nasty and I really want you to understand that if you are just honest with us right up front, I can offer you a lot more options. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Devon continued to look impassively at her, Mac’s voice echoing in her head. They will say or do anything to make their case.

Karynn looked at Devon for a few moments, waiting for any sign of an opening. When she saw only the steely blue expression in her eyes, she sat back and sighed. “Okay, Devon. I know you don’t believe me, but I really am trying to help you. You’ve actually got only two options.” She held up her right hand pointing her index finger in the air, “One. You sit here like a badass and say nothing and everything that is in the file gets explained the way Honeycutt wants the story told.” Her middle finger now popped up forming a V, “Two. You start talking to me and I can write some mitigating factors into your report.” The blue eyes continued to stare.

“In the first scenario,” Karynn continued, “you get a courts martial trial, a dishonorable discharge, and maybe even jail time. In the second option, I can offer you a general discharge and no jail time. You get to get on with your life.” She shrugged her shoulders, “Doesn’t seem like a hard decision to me.”

Her mind racing with a thousand different thoughts that collided and blended in her brain, Devon sat quietly trying to reign in her feelings. Images of Jillian flickered in her mind like mental flash cards. She thought about how Honeycutt must have given her a similar speech to get her to talk and she must have agreed because Jillian got out and now after all this time, Honeycutt had finally found her.

The stinging pain of betrayal stabbed into her chest, painfully squeezing her heart. And then strangely, she felt a separate feeling of protectiveness. Jillian had always told Devon that she was stubborn to the point of foolishness. Maybe that’s what was going on now, because although she knew the easy way out of this was to admit her relationship with Jillian, she couldn’t do it. It felt wrong somehow. Part of you still loves her. Fuckin’ A.

“Lieutenant?” Karynn was still waiting for a response.

Closing her eyes briefly, Devon drew a deep breath, conjuring up images of Jillian, Alex, Ann and Mac. One by one she pictured their faces, drawing comfort and strength she sent out a silent plea for guidance. Opening her eyes to look at the agent seated in front of her, she said simply, “I have nothing to say to you.”

For a second, respect flashed in the brown eyes but it quickly disappeared as Karynn stood. “Wrong answer,” she said quietly.

The door banged open and Honeycutt waddled into the room. Devon clamped her jaw shut so hard that it ached. She warned herself not to lose control, no matter what he said because that would give him what he wanted. Vowing to win the round about to begin, even though she sensed the win might cost her more, she sat back in the chair, put on her best emotionless mask and stared at him with impenetrable eyes.

“Leave us,” he dismissed the female agent as he folded himself into the chair opposite the detainee. The chair groaned in protest under the weight of his frame. He scrutinized the woman finally in his custody after two years of unremitting pursuit, waiting for his chance. He couldn’t hide the intense satisfaction that he felt when he looked down at her hands on the table and observed the visible cuts and bruises that were beginning to form on her wrists.

Her gaze was hard as she stared at him but the evidence of strain was obvious; her eyes were bloodshot and sunken into dark circles outlining the sockets. “Well, lieutenant, it seems we finally meet.”

#

As Susan entered the building just before eleven, she noticed the guard standing in the hall outside of the interrogation room and wondered who they had brought in this morning. She entered her office area expecting to see Jones at the desk opposite hers, grumbling about the duplicate paperwork that was required for all government work. Instead, she was caught off guard at the sight of Karynn sitting with her feet up on his desk, apparently having made herself at home.

Making her way to the coffee pot that sat on a small metal stand in the corner of the room, Susan poured herself a cup. “I see the interrogation room is already in use this morning,” she said in greeting, tilting her head in the direction of the hallway. “Anything good?” She leaned her hip on the counter watching the other investigator, noting that she was dressed a bit more formally than the usual office attire. Her navy suit jacked was open in the front revealing her holster and badge.

Swinging her legs off the desk and leaning forward with her elbows in the middle of the large calendar that covered most of the desk surface, Karynn’s smile was predatory. “Only the chief’s most wanted subject. We removed her from the NSA building a couple hours ago.” Her eyes gleamed, “You should have seen her face.”

She knew that was going to get a response out of agent Miller. Karynn watched the two of them at the bar and had seen the way Miller looked at the lieutenant. She knew that look. Miller had fallen for her target and that was unacceptable. Weak. As far as Karynn was concerned, Miller should be in the box right after James. For now, though, watching the color drain out of the other woman’s face as she realized the identity of the prisoner down the hall was enough.

Struggling to maintain a controlled bearing, Susan managed, “Most wanted subject?” Maybe it wasn’t Devon. She forced herself to keep her facial expression neutral and calmly wait for the answer.

“Come on now, Susan,” Karynn said dryly as she stood, “we both know who that is. As a matter of fact, didn’t I hear that you were filing the final damning report to close the James case?” She reveled in the slightly panicked look in Susan’s eyes. “I was just about to go watch the chief in action,” She opened the door and motioned for Susan to come along, “Shall we?”

Susan followed in silence to the large window of the interrogation room, staring in disbelief at the scene unfolding inside. Honeycutt was leaning over Devon just to her right, hands flat on the table, his face inches from her right ear. His round face was contorted in an angry expression as he snapped at her, spittle visible on the side of his mouth. The lieutenant stared straight ahead toward the glass, seemingly looking directly at Susan, but she knew that the inside was mirrored. She heard Karynn let out a chuckle and flip the switch on the wall, allowing the sound of the room to be heard.

“…and I have everything I need right here.” He shoved the manila folder in front of Devon as he spoke, opening it on the table. “What? You’re not even curious?” She didn’t look down. “Why, lieutenant, I’m just trying to afford you the opportunity to hear the charges and see the evidence against you. Obviously, you don’t seem to understand the gravity of your situation.”

Honeycutt removed the photographs and lined them up in two neat rows in front of Devon on the desk before removing some other pages. “Tell you what, you just listen while I read this very thorough report. You can follow along with the pictures.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

Susan was stunned as he read what she recognized at first as her report, but as he continued she knew that someone else had authored the final supplement. She listened, wide-eyed with astonishment as Honeycutt described the lieutenant making blatant attempts at seducing her, finally falsely saying that she tried to kiss her and was stopped by someone else approaching the table. She watched Devon look down at the pictures briefly before staring straight ahead again and this time she could see pain in the blue eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Susan snapped as she stepped back from the window, unable to look at the lieutenant’s pained expression any longer. “That is not my report.”

Karynn stepped very close and hissed into her ear, “No, that is my report, based upon my observations. Your professional detachment and objectivity were lost that night.” She sniffed, “I have pictures to back up my version of the events that evening. Pictures don’t lie.”

“No. People do.” She responded. The woman was in her personal space and making Susan’s skin crawl. Susan moved quickly away, intent on getting outside to get some air because she suddenly felt like she was suffocating. Karynn’s laughter followed her down the hall as she headed quickly for the back door.

Honeycutt broke for lunch, frustrated that so far his interrogation had not seemed to affect the cocky female lieutenant. Back in his office, he scanned the file he knew so well, formulating his plan of attack for the afternoon. He knew he had enough evidence, with or without a confession, but he wanted to break her. He wanted to witness the instant when she lost hope and her despair made her agree to tell him whatever he wanted. His experience taught him that to achieve that, he was going to have to expose a nerve and that’s just what he intended to do that afternoon.

Chapter 44

Susan hurried across the parking lot to her silver Toyota Celica, dropping her copy of the actual report on James along with the second case onto the passenger seat beside her. She was so grateful that she had the foresight to keep her own copy, just in case. Her mind was spinning as she thought about Devon locked up in the interrogation room, arrested on the basis of a fabricated report. Honeycutt’s version of her report.

She looked down at the folder containing the pictures and additional information she dug up in the past few weeks. She knew if she didn’t do something now, she could never live with herself. The problem was, who would she tell? Honeycutt was in charge, it was her word against his—and let’s not forget Karynn the super sleuth. There was no telling what the two of them were capable of. If only McKinley were still here. She would know what to do with this information.

As if fate had intervened, at the next intersection as Susan stopped for the light, she saw a sign outside of one of the nondescript military buildings that read out processing Station. “Oh, my God! That’s it!” She shouted out loud in her car as she swung immediately into the parking lot and rushed inside.

She flashed her badge at the private at the front desk. “I’m Sergeant Miller, CID.”

The private ushered her into an office where a bookish looking young Spec 4 sat behind a desk. “How can I help you, sergeant?” He asked.

“I’m looking for a witness for an ongoing investigation. She out processed a few months ago.”

“That should be a simple enough request, sergeant,” He typed a few things into the computer. “What is the name of the person you need to locate?”

“Captain Erin McKinley.”

#

Ann woke up again to very bright sunlight streaming into the bedroom. Looking around the unfamiliar, sparsely furnished room, she tried to remember exactly where she was. Turning her head to the side, she saw an army jacket with lieutenant’s bars on the collar hanging on the closet door. Now she remembered. She was at Devon’s apartment. Sitting up slowly to test the intensity of her headache, she was relieved to find it not incapacitating. The clock read eleven fifty-five.

Her clothes were folded neatly in a nearby bentwood rocker and Ann observed that she was now wearing a plain green t-shirt and grey drawstring shorts. She smiled absently imagining Devon struggling to change her clothes while she was obviously too wasted to be of any help. She reached for the Tylenol bottle, snapping off the top and dumping three capsules into her hand before popping them into her mouth and finishing the glass of water.

Climbing out of the bed with effort, she made her way to the bathroom to pee before moving to the kitchen to make coffee. She found the coffee pot already set up and a mug waiting next to the machine for her; all she had to do was flip the switch to on. A note next to the mug read, “Hope you slept well. Help yourself to whatever you can find in the kitchen to eat. The towels in the bathroom are clean. See ya later.”

Smiling at her friend’s thoughtfulness Ann poured herself a cup of coffee and decided to give her a call to see how the day was going. Devon’s direct line was answered on the fourth ring. “Com center, this is Janice how may I help you?”

“Janice?” Ann was thrown off momentarily by the secretary answering Devon’s extension in such a generic way, “It’s Ann. Is the lieutenant in?”

A long silence hung between them on the line making Ann wonder if they had been disconnected. She was getting a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of last night’s alcohol. “Janice, are you there?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the older woman replied with an odd tension in her voice, “No, the lieutenant is not in and I don’t believe she will be in the rest of the day.”

Her stomach tightened a bit more. She won’t be in the rest of the day? Impossible. Ann reminded herself that all of the lines inside the building were secure and taped. She supposed Janice knew more than she was saying, but Ann knew she couldn’t ask her, so instead she forced a light tone into her voice, “Okay Janice, thanks.”

Severing the connection, she immediately redialed the non secure phone inside the operations center where the guys actually worked. A male voice answered on the first ring, and Ann recognized that it was Kevin, the new airman. Carefully formulating her question in her mind, she began, “Hi Kevin. It’s Ann.”

“Hello Petty Officer Baxter. How are you?” he sounded happy to hear from her.

“Fine, Kevin, thanks. Listen, I was looking for the lieutenant…is she in, by chance?”

“Um, I’m not sure…I mean she’s not here right now…ah, did you try her office maybe?” She could hear fear in his voice and that was ratcheting up the anxiety crawling up Ann’s spine. Knowing he worshipped Devon, she decided to press for a little information.

“Kevin, I already tried that. She’s not there, I think you know that.” She slipped some authority into her voice to get his attention as she said that. She paused to let him consider. Quietly she continued, “Kevin please, just say yes or no, okay?” He was silent so she continued, “Did something happen this morning?”

Yes.” It was almost a whisper. Ann closed her eyes as her mind raced through the possibilities. Did Jefferies find another bullshit regulation to write her up on? Or was it something worse? The way Janice answered the phone was really starting to scare her—not even using Devon’s name—like it wasn’t even her office anymore. Oh, God.

She forced herself to stay calm, “Kevin, I want to help. You know the lieutenant is a good person. Can you tell me anything so that I will know where to start?” silently she prayed he would.

Finally, she heard him breathe deeply, then say in a hushed tone, “MP’s took her this morning, about two hours ago. Nobody’s saying anything though. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Thank you—” she heard a click and a dial tone in her ear. “Damn it!” She screamed, throwing the phone onto the couch and pacing wildly around the living room. Her mind was reeling as she tried to process the information. Devon was arrested. It had to be CID, but what did that mean? Was is just her or was it some kind of a round up? They were all at the bar together last night; were any of the others picked up? Carmen? Elaina? Shit, I didn’t go home. Did they try to find me too?

Feeling completely helpless and frustrated, Ann tried to get control of her emotions to think. She had to try to do something, but what the hell could she do? She couldn’t call any of the others just in case. Mac. Yes, Mac would know what to do, but she didn’t have her number. No, wait. Devon had to have the number. Frantically she began digging through drawers, finding nothing. Frustration quickly turning to anger, she pounded her fist on the coffee table. It has to be here.

Momentarily conceding defeat, Ann headed back to the kitchen to refill her coffee cup and think. She poured the steaming hot brew into her large mug. As she turned to pull the refrigerator door open to retrieve the carton of creamer, a small square of paper held in place on the door with an ‘I love Boston’ magnet caught her eye. There in neatly printed block letters she read: Mac McKinley 813-830-6643. Bingo!

Chapter 45

Sometime later, it seemed like hours but she couldn’t be sure, Devon heard footsteps approaching down the hall and wondered who was coming in this time. After Honeycutt left, she had been left alone for a while, then the woman with the short spiky hair had returned with a turkey sandwich, a coke and a bottle of water. Devon had no appetite but did drink the water. Karynn sat down to eat her own sandwich and tried to make small talk with Devon to no avail. She gave up after about twenty minutes, taking the remains of her lunch and leaving the lieutenant alone again.

Since then Devon’s thoughts were filled with so many people and things that it was starting to make her head thump. She tried to think about a reasonable way out of her situation, but of course there was no way out for her. Devon had made her decision about this type of circumstance when she was still with Jillian; she knew in her heart that she could absolutely not free herself by turning someone else in. And, that would be the price. They already had their ‘proof’ about her, so admitting her sexuality would mean nothing. No, they would want someone else’s head in trade.

She sighed heavily, leaning her elbows on the table and holding her forehead in her hands, closing her eyes she listened to the sound of the footsteps coming closer. Devon looked up as the door opened and Honeycutt entered. Once again, he had a folder in his hands which he placed on the table between them as he sat across from her. “You didn’t want your lunch?”

Devon shook her head and stared at him impassively. He shrugged, “Suit yourself.” Without further comment he extracted several photographs and lined them up on the table the way he had hours before. Again, the lieutenant stared straight ahead rather than look at what he laid out in front of her. Unperturbed, he began, “I thought perhaps this afternoon you and I might take a bit of a walk down memory lane, Devon.”

The use of her first name by this asshole made Devon want to scream, but she remained silent. She knew the chief observed the flash of anger in her eyes because he was looking smugly at her. Don’t let him get to you.

“I realize that you didn’t think very much of the photos from this morning, but I thought you might be interested in these ones I found of some old acquaintances,” He leered, “since they will help you to understand just how you came to be here now.”

He held up the first picture in front of her face. “You remember Lieutenant Gray?” Turning the picture around toward himself, he chuckled, “My, what a looker, I can certainly see why you couldn’t keep your hands off her.”

He proceeded to hold up several more pictures, continuing to comment on the photo or to mock her and Jillian. Finally, he laid out the last two pictures and Devon finally gave in and looked at the desk. One was a picture of her and Jillian, arms wrapped around each other and kissing. The background was hard to make out, but it looked like the wooded area by the lake on the base outside Boston. The second was a picture of Jillian sitting in a room much like the one Devon found herself in now. Her head was hung, shoulders slumped and she held her forehead in her hands, obviously defeated. As Devon stared at the pictures, Honeycutt removed a small tape recorder from his jacket pocket, set it on the table and hit play.

Jillian’s voice, sounding fragile and scared, said, “What is it you want to know?”

“We only want the truth, lieutenant. Then we can make a deal.” A male voice answered.

“Alright then, I’ll tell you.” Her voice was raw with emotion and Devon could hear the desperation and exhaustion. The thought of Jillian desperate, scared and broken unexpectedly brought the sting of unwanted tears to Devon’s eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut against them as her stomach rolled, fighting the onslaught of painful, unwanted memories. Jumping abruptly from her chair and stalking to the far corner of the room, she pressed her palms flat against the wall above her head. With her back to Honeycutt, Devon didn’t see his mouth turn up in a gleeful sneer.

The fat man put the tape recorder away and put on a concerned mask. He spoke quietly, “I have always respected your loyalty, lieutenant. That’s why I thought you deserved to know that Jillian Gray sold you out. Her statements corroborated all of the photographic evidence.” He was making up lies as he went along, but no matter; whatever it took to get her. He walked over to where she was standing and leaned close, speaking directly into her ear, “She turned you in to save her ass from jail. She fucked you, and then she really fucked you.” He couldn’t help laughing out loud at his pun.

He watched her struggle for control, the muscle in her jaw was jumping and her arms shook as they pressed against the wall. The interrogator knew he had her balancing on a razor edge, all it would take is one more tiny push. “You know, come to think of it,” his tone was matter of fact; “Maybe it’s you. Maybe once you touch them they can’t get far enough away.” His hot breath burned on her skin, “The little slut in Lebanon, did she die trying to get away from you?”

The pain that had been building inside Devon for over two years coalesced into a blinding rage that exploded as his hideous laughter shredded her already tattered control. “AAHHH!” An animalistic roar erupted from her and she swung her right fist, connecting with his mouth. The blow sent spit and blood from his split lip flying in the air. He staggered back against the wall as she came at him again driving her shoulder into his chest, pinning him to the concrete with her hands at his collar squeezing off his air supply.

“No.” She said in a lethally calm tone, her face inches from his, “You are the lying motherfucker here. If she had sold me out, you would have arrested me the very next day. You had nothing, just like now you pompous son of a bitch. I don’t give a fuck,” she slammed his head against the wall for emphasis, “what pictures you have. They mean nothing without witnesses and you don’t have any because nothing happened except me having a drink in a bar.” Clamping her hand like a vise on his neck she finished in a low menacing growl, “And if you ever disrespect Agent Sommers’ memory again, I swear, I will send you straight to hell.”

He struggled to break her grip and managed to choke out a cry for help before Devon finally released him. As soon as she did, he lumbered to the mirror and yelled for the guards. They entered quickly, shoved her face down onto the metal table, wrenched her hands behind her back and reapplied the handcuffs. The guards apparently thought she didn’t go down quickly enough. One drove his fist into her right side sending the air out of her lungs and a low moan from her throat. The other grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her face into the table. Devon felt her skin split along her right eyebrow and the blood run into her eye.

When they stood her up Honeycutt stepped close once again and snarled, “You’re going to regret this.”

“No matter what happens to me,” she gasped trying to get air back into her lungs, “I will never regret hitting you, you lying fat fuck.” His face turned purple with rage and he slapped her so hard across the face that she probably would have fallen, if not held up by the guards. She tasted blood and felt her lip begin to swell.

“Get her out of my sight,” the chief thundered.

Devon was thrown forcefully into a cell where she spent the night haunted by her memories. When she finally dozed visions assaulted her dreams of Alex’s body laying in the sand, her eyes staring in accusation. She spoke, only it was Jillian’s voice full of pain and fear, “You didn’t love me enough.” Jumping awake, her breathing hard and fast, sweat pouring off her body, Devon cradled her head in her hands and let the tears flow. She cried for Alex, she cried for Jillian, and she cried for herself, wondering if some wounds were too deep to ever heal.

#

Mac pulled her pickup truck in front of her apartment building at 1830 hours, exhausted from a day of defensive tactics in the indoor building with little air conditioning in the morning and firearms training all afternoon in the blazing Florida sun. She pushed through the doorway into the air conditioned haven, stowing her gun belt on the top shelf of the closet in the master bedroom, and stripping off her clothes as she headed for the shower. Stepping directly into the tepid spray that passed for cold by the Deep South’s standards, she slowly felt her body temperature falling into a normal range. Lathering up from head to toe, then rinsing thoroughly she stepped from the shower, feeling much better.

After throwing on a sleeveless t-shirt and cotton shorts, she headed for the kitchen, poured herself a large glass of iced tea and carried it toward the couch. On the way, she noticed the light blinking on the phone, indicating she had three messages. She pressed the play button and settled back to listen.

First message received at eight forty five am: Hey, buddy it’s me…Devon. I was just getting ready to start work. Thought I might catch you. How’s the academy going? I can’t wait to hear all about it. Things are okay here, a bit boring without you…well, anyway Ann and I went out last night. You know she’s getting ready to head to Alaska. So, I better go. Call me soon, okay? See ya.

Mac smiled as she thought of her friend, deciding to return her call as soon as she listened to the other messages.

Second message received at ten twenty three am: Captain McKinley…this is Susan Miller…um from CID. I know I’m not your favorite person, but please do not delete this message. It is about Lieutenant James…Devon. She’s in trouble, and I didn’t know who else to call. They arrested her this morning. I can’t explain over the phone. Please, please call me. I—she needs your help.

Scrambling to find a piece of paper and a pen, Mac scribbled down the number. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. Devon? Arrested? Her mind tried to wrap around the thought as the machine beeped again.

Message three received at twelve thirty eight pm: Mac! It’s Ann. Something terrible has happened. I think CID arrested Devon this morning. We were out last night and I stayed here at her place. They took her out of the building, but I don’t know anything else. I’ll be here at Devon’s. Please call me when you get this message, no matter how late. Beep.

Panicked now, Mac found her address book and Devon’s number, dialing quickly. Ann picked up on the first ring. “Hello.” Her voice was strained.

“Hey, you. What’s going on?” Mac tried to keep her voice even and calm although her insides felt like they were full of live electric wires.

“Oh my god, Mac! Thank you for calling. I don’t know what to do, this is so terrible.”

“Its okay, Ann. Just take a deep breath and tell me what happened.” Mac said.

“Well, we went out last night. Devon had a surprise going away thing for me at the club,” Mac smiled briefly as she listened. “And I had too much to drink, so she brought me here. I woke up this morning—afternoon—and I called into the office to talk to her.” She was struggling to maintain her thin hold on control, “And they said she was taken out by the MP’s.” Ann gasped in agony. “MP’s Mac, what are we gonna do?”

“Ann, listen to me. I need to get some more information and I think I have the way to do that. Does anyone else know that you’re there?”

“No, only Devon.”

“Good. Then give me some time to find some things out and I’ll call you back, okay?” She closed her eyes, wishing so much to be able to hold Ann and comfort her.

“Okay,” Ann sounded frail. “Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“Is Devon going to be okay?”

“I hope so, honey.” Mac hung up and punched in Susan’s number, wondering how much she could trust the agent. At the moment, she didn’t have much choice. Her mind replayed memories of her own battles with CID and she pushed away the memories of betrayal to focus on helping Devon.

“Hello?” Susan answered anxiously.

“It’s McKinley.” She waited for Susan to explain herself, knowing she could just as easily be setting a trap.

“Captain, thanks for calling me. I know you don’t trust me…”

“Save the self serving comments, agent.” Mac interrupted, “Tell me about Lieutenant James.”

Susan related all of the details about the night at the club and Honeycutt’s accusations, the photographs, the threats he made if she didn’t falsify her report, and finally Devon’s arrest. When she had finished she was in tears. “Captain, I saw her through the two way mirror, she thinks I wrote that report. The sadness in her eyes nearly broke my heart.” Her tears flowed freely now.

“Why do you care?” Mac had to ask; she had to know what side Susan was really on now. She waited while the other woman took several deep breaths, apparently thinking about her answer.

“Because I care about her. God help me I tried to stay detached, but there’s just…something about her.” Susan’s voice trailed off.

Mac heard the sincerity in her answer and knowing that Susan certainly was putting herself in jeopardy by helping Devon, she decided to trust her. “Okay, Susan. I appreciate your honesty. Can you fax me a copy of your original report? I know someone that may be able to help, but I’m going to need the proof.”

“I’ll send it right away.” She hesitated, “Captain?”

“Yes?”

“There’s one more thing.” Mac heard intensity in Susan’s voice that got her undivided attention. Susan drew a deep breath and blurted out, “I saw the chief coming out of a men’s club with another man. More than once.”

Mac asked carefully, “What are you saying?”

“He…he doesn’t go there in an official capacity. I checked, there’s no record of any investigations there. I have pictures.”

Mac’s mind reeled with this new information. “That motherfucker.” She scowled.

“I hope you’ll know what to do with this information. He has to be stopped.”

“Nobody else knows about Honeycutt?” Mac was already formulating a plan.

“No.”

“Alright. Get me the information ASAP. I’ll take it from here.”

“Captain? I’m sorry…for all of it. I never meant to hurt anybody. I…I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“No, Susan, you need to eventually forgive yourself. I’ll be waiting for the fax. Then I’ll be in touch with further instructions for you regarding those reports.” She stopped a beat before adding, “Thank you.”

Mac looked at the clock and cursed the helplessness she felt. It was almost 1930 hours. She paced around the apartment knowing that now she would get no sleep because there was nothing she could do for Devon tonight. Still, she thought, she might as well call an old friend; that way he could maybe get the ball rolling to get her released first thing in the morning. She tried to keep her mind from conjuring up frightening images of Devon being interrogated, psychologically abused, maybe even physically. If they fucking lay one hand on her…

Dialing the phone, her eyes moved to the pewter frame on the end table with a picture of her and Devon standing in the helicopter bay in Beirut, grinning at each other. “Hang on, buddy,” she said out loud, “We’re coming.”

Part 16

What's Ya Poison?