Duty and Dishonor Read online

  “Were you surprised that Captain Hunter would spend an entire day with you when he was seeing Lieutenant Simmons on a regular basis?”

  The ghost of a smile twisted her lips. “Surprised? No.”

  “Why not? From what you’ve told us, Captain Hunter came on to you pretty from the moment you stepped off the plane. Didn’t it bother you that he’d put the make on one woman while seeing another?”

  Her smile took on a mocking edge. “You’ve never done that, Mr. Marsh?”

  “We’re not talking about me here, colonel.”

  She acknowledged the hit with a small nod. “No, we’re not.”

  Beside him, Barbara Lyles stirred. She was a good agent, one of the best, which was why Marsh requested her for this case. She’d played her assigned role as the listener and observer well this past hour. He sensed Barbara’s interest as Julia Endicott lifted her chin and responded to his query.

  “In answer to your question, it didn’t bother me that Gabe... That Captain Hunter spent so much time with me on my first day in country. It’s part of the air commando’s code, or at least it was back then, to hustle anything in skirts. Everyone knew the rules, and no one got hurt as long as they didn’t take things seriously.”

  “But someone did get hurt. Very hurt.”

  She met his look squarely. “Not by me.”

  Marsh fought a reluctant admiration for the woman who faced him across the conference table. In his experience, few Air Force personnel gave coherent statements when confronted with serious charges. For the most part, they weren’t hardened criminals. They stuttered and stammered and eventually tripped themselves up with their own contradictory stories. Or they were so shaken that they refused to talk at all without an attorney present. In the last hour, however, Colonel Julia Endicott had done little stuttering or stammering. She’d pulled her professionalism around her like a cloak and answered every question he had put to her. Her low, throaty voice -- not at all the voice of a senior officer, at least none that Marsh had served under -- had steadied by imperceptible degrees.

  He admired her composure, but it sure as hell made his job more difficult. He’d let her set the pace, let tell her story in her own words. She’d grown comfortable with him, he decided. Too comfortable. He needed to throw her off balance.

  “Apparently the woman you knew as Lieutenant Simmons wasn’t quite as familiar with the rules of the game as you were.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that the recovery of Captain Hunter’s remains seems to have generated some painful questions she doesn’t have the answers for.”

  He caught the faint, reflexive jerk of the colonel’s head. For the first time, a crack appeared in her facade.

  “When did you speak with her?”

  “Last week, after the final autopsy and forensic reports came in. She took the probable cause of death hard.”

  When Colonel Endicott drew in a swift, hissing breath, Marsh didn’t so much as flick an eyelash. But his pulse began to pound with the familiar heaviness.

  “The St. Christopher medal really distressed her,” he added deliberately

  “Claire knows about the medal?”

  “She’s the one who identified it for us.”

  “Oh, no!”

  The low exclamation set his blood to hammering. He felt the way he did during sex, eager to reach the breaking point but determined to hold back in order to coax the response he wanted.

  “Claire told us that she’d given you the medal your first night in Vietnam,” he said softly, his eyes on her face. “She said it was a welcome gift, a good luck charm from your sponsor.”

  He paused, waiting for her to comment. She kept silent. The opaque greenness hid her thoughts from his searching gaze.

  “Claire Simmons gave you the medal the night you arrived, didn’t she? The same night Captain Hunter brought you to the barracks in his arms?”

  She didn’t move, hardly breathed. Then she nodded once. Only once. But it was enough for the predator in Marsh to swoop in for the kill.

  “She said you put it on right then. As far as she knew, you kept it on.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Once more her gaze drifted to the window behind him. Marsh hardened his voice and forced her attention back to him.

  “She told us that she couldn’t image how Captain Hunter could have been in possession of that medal. Unless...”

  He let the unfinished phrase hang on the air between them. With a sudden tension in his gut, he watched the blood drain from Julia Endicott’s face.

  “Are you...? Are you suggesting Claire thinks I...?” She stopped, fisting her hands together tightly. “Did Claire say I killed Gabe?”

  “No,” Marsh replied truthfully, “she didn’t say that.”

  Her eyes burned with a sudden intensity. Then she thrust back her chair and stood. Both Marsh and his partner scrambled to their feet. Standing ramrod straight, Colonel Endicott faced them across the expanse of polished wood.

  “I’m terminating this interview, here and now.”

  He wasn’t about to let her go. Not now. Not when he sensed that he was close to breaking through. “I’m not finished with my questions, Colonel Endicott.”

  “I’m finished with my answers. For the moment, anyway.”

  Marsh rocked back on his heels, allowing no sign of his disappointment to show on his face. The vulnerable woman of a few moments ago had vanished. In her place stood a senior officer.

  “I take it this means that you intend to consult with an attorney?” he commented.

  “I should,” she replied with a touch of bitterness. “I certainly should. But first I want to see Claire.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t allow that.”

  Placing both palms on the table, Julia Endicott leaned forward. Shadows no longer darkened her green eyes. They glittered with swift, sudden anger.

  “Don’t make the mistake of confusing me with that naive lieutenant I told you about a few moments ago, Mr. Marsh. I’ve gained a lot of experience since Vietnam, both on the Air Staff and in the field. What’s more, I spent three long years as a training wing commander. I know how the Air Force legal system works.”

  She straightened, her nostrils flaring. “Unless and until you have enough evidence to convince a Staff Judge Advocate that charges should be preferred against me, I’m answerable only to those in my chain of command. Not to you.”

  Marsh fought to keep his face impassive. Dammit, how had he lost control of this interview?

  “If you know the legal system,” Barbara Lyles said, entering the conversation for the first time, “then you know that it’ll be easier on all of us if you cooperate and answer our questions.”

  Colonel Endicott sent the agent a contemptuous glance. “Easier for you, perhaps. Somehow I don’t envision a murder investigation ever being ‘easy’ on the suspect.”

  Turning on her heel, she headed for the door. Marsh wasn’t going to let her walk out without voicing the question that had brought him and Julia Endicott to this small, windowless conference room.

  “Colonel!”

  When she swiveled back to face him, he went for the jugular. “Did you kill Captain Hunter?”

  “No!” Her voice quivered with fury. “And I resent the hell out of the fact that you and General Titus could even think that I did.”

  “You haven’t heard all the evidence against you,” he said bluntly.

  “I will,” she promised fiercely. “I’ll hear every word, read every scrap of misinformation you’ve gathered. You can count on that, Mr. Marsh. But first I’m going to talk to Claire.”

  The agent hesitated, then came to a swift decision. He wouldn’t get any more out of her now. Not with her fire up and determination setting her face into tight, unyielding lines. Reaching into his suit coat, he pulled out a business card.

  “Call me if you want to continue our interview later tonight, after you’ve spoken to Claire. Otherwise, we’ll meet here tomorrow m
orning. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

  He couched the question in polite terms, but they both knew it wasn’t a request. For the first time, color slashed across her cheeks. She took the card and swept out of the office without another word.

  The next time, Marsh promised himself as he stared at the closed door, Colonel Endicott wouldn’t be the one to terminate their interview.

  “Whew!” Barbara pressed the stop button on the tape recorder. “She’s going to be a tough one to break.”

  Marsh shoved his hands in his pockets and fingered the loose change. “I’ve broken tougher.”

  Julia made her way back to her office through the echoing halls. She felt disoriented, displaced, as though she’d last walked these corridors a lifetime ago.

  Two staff officers rounded the corner and gave a respectful, “Afternoon, ma’am.”

  She forced herself to respond, although her heart hammered so painfully in her chest she could hardly breathe. She had to call Claire. Surely, Claire, of all people, wouldn’t...couldn’t...believe that she’d killed Gabe Hunter.

  Shoving open the door to the Public Affairs Directorate, she brushed past her secretary’s desk. The small, dark haired woman rose and followed her into her office.

  “Where on earth have you been? I’ve got a stack of calls for you, and your staff is standing by to get your chop on the final base closure list release. Did you get the word that the list passed the subcommittee by voice vote?”

  Julia stared at her blankly. “What?”

  “The base closure list. It’s out of subcommittee and on its way to the full Armed Services Committee. The chairman has promised to get it to a full floor vote before the Senate breaks for Christmas. Didn’t you get the note we sent down to the Vice Chief’s office?”

  “No, I didn’t get the note.”

  Her secretary clucked in exasperation. “Typical. We can bounce satellite beams off the moon, or whatever, but we can’t seem to get one little message passed to the person who needs it in this zoo.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Maria.”

  Desperate to call Claire, Julia didn’t want to take the time to explain what was still unexplainable in her own mind. She couldn’t handle Maria’s shock and disbelief right now. She could barely handle her own.

  “I need to make a phone call,” she told the secretary. Her stomach heaved as she realized she’d have to turn her duties and responsibilities over to the chief of operations. In the director’s absence, she had no choice. General Titus had relieved her. Hamilton would have to shoulder the burdens of Air Force Public Affairs until their boss returned.

  “Ask Colonel Hamilton to stand by,” she told her secretary. “I’d like to talk to him and to you after I make this phone call.”

  “Will do,” the efficient Maria replied, heading for her desk.

  Deep, still silence surrounded Julia when the heavy wood door shut out the sounds of the busy outer office. Her gaze moved to the bank of windows, now painted black by the early winter dusk. She found it bitterly ironic that she’d walked out of this office buoyed by a bright sunlight rare for DC in December and came back to a darkness that mirrored the despair clutching at her chest.

  Her knees suddenly weak, she sank down into the chair behind her desk. Do it now, she admonished herself. Do it now, before you lose your nerve completely.

  Call Claire.

  Her fingers shook as she pulled the Rolodex out of the credenza and set it beside her phone. One clear, polished nail slid over the index tabs, until she found the one she searched for. Lifting the receiver, she punched in the number of the woman who was once her closest friend.

  “Hunter residence. May I help you?”

  “Claire?”

  A sharp, frozen stillness settled over the line.

  “Claire, it’s Julia.”

  She waited while the silence stretched endlessly. Her palm slick, Julia gripped the phone. Her throat felt raw as she forced out the words.

  “I just heard about Gabe. I... I need to talk to you.”

  “No.” Claire’s whisper barely carried over the phone. “I don’t want to talk to you. Not now. Maybe not ever again.”

  “You have to.”

  “No.”

  “Dammit, you owe me that much.” Julia cringed at the desperate note in her voice.

  “Whatever I once owed you was buried beside the road to Long Binh!”

  Closing her eyes against the pain that swept her, Julia let her head drop back against the chair.

  “Oh, God!” Like brittle, over-stressed ice, Claire’s voice cracked and splintered. “I’m sorry, Jules. I still can’t...grasp it. After all these years. I didn’t have any warning. They...they just showed up at my door. In uniform. Like the first time.”

  Wearily, Julia lifted her head. “We can’t talk about this over the phone. I’ll drive down. I can be there by...” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “By nine.”

  For a moment she thought Claire would refuse. But the ties forged two decades ago in the fires of war proved stronger than the specter now hanging between them.

  “All right.”

  Carefully, Julia replaced the receiver. She sat staring at the dark windows for a long time before she lifted the phone once more and buzzed Maria.

  “Would you come in now? And bring Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton with you.”

  An agonizing hour later, Julia’s breath frosted on the icy darkness as she fumbled the key into the ignition of her two-seater Mercedes. A promotion gift to herself when she’d made colonel, the sleek sports car usually gave her a sense of quiet joy. Tonight, she felt only a choking mixture of despair, fear and shame. The scene she’d just gone through with her secretary and her subordinate would stay burned in her mind for years to come.

  Julia knew their stunned shock was only the first taste of what she could expect in the days ahead. As a public affairs officer, she’d worked damage control for too many sordid scandals to hope something as sensational as her removal from office wouldn’t spread at mach speed. Her stomach churned at the thought of walking through the halls of the Pentagon, catching the sidelong glances, hearing the whispered comments.

  She felt an overwhelming urge to run, to hide for a day, a week, forever. She wouldn’t run, though, and she sure as hell wouldn’t hide. She wouldn’t give Gabe Hunter that final triumph.

  Damm you, Gabe! Damn you to the hell you deserve!

  Her hand shaking, Julia twisted the key. The Mercedes turned over with a muted, well-mannered growl. Gripping the wheel with both hands, she backed out of her reserved slot and joined the stream of commuter traffic heading south on I-95. It would take her a good two hours to reach Richmond, where Claire Hunter now made her home. Julia needed the time, every minute of it, to get herself under control.

  The bumper-to-bumper traffic crawled south, forming a river of red taillights in the inky darkness. A few flakes of snow danced in the golden sweep of the Mercedes’ lights. The forecast predicted intermittent flurries tonight, Julia remembered. She caught herself making a mental note to leave for work earlier than usual tomorrow morning. Even the hnt of bad weather always caused total chaos to traffic inside the beltway.

  Her nails dug into the leather-wrapped steering wheel. She didn’t have to leave early, she reminded herself savagely. She didn’t have to get to the Pentagon by six am to review the clippings from the early morning editions. She didn’t have to research the hot news items before she attended the Secretary of the Air Force’s staff meeting at eight. She wouldn’t be attending the Secretary’s staff meeting.

  How had it come to this? she wondered bleakly. All the years of hard work? All the late hours and remote tours of duty? The early promotions, the service schools, the challenges and exhilaration of command? How had it all come down to this?

  Relieved of all duties.

  Stripped of her authority and responsibilities.

  An officer whose past could very well destroy her future.

  They’d n
ever envisioned it would end this way, she and Claire. All those years ago, when they’d shared so many dreams, so many hopes. Julia would be a general, the Intelligence Officer had predicted confidently. As for herself, well, she wasn’t as sure that she wanted to make the Air Force a career.

  Besides, there was Gabe…

  Chapter Four

  Tan Son Nhut Air Base, Vietnam

  “He needs me, Jules.”

  Claire Simmons' soft voice barely carried over the liquid strains of the 5th Dimension. The popular group’s latest vocal poured from the speakers being rigged on the roof of the women’s quarters in preparation for tonight’s Halloween Bash. The lead singer’s lament about Bill, her Bill, streamed through the fixed wooden slats over the screened windows and bounced off the plywood walls of Julia’s eight-by-ten room.

  She’d miss the revelry tonight, since she had the stick as the MACV Public Affairs duty officer. She didn’t mind, though. Vietnam was still too new, too intense, for her to need partying to blunt its impact.

  Besides, there was Gabe...

  Dragging a brush through her shoulder-length bob, Julia glanced in the mirror at her friend. The brunette sat on the metal bunk, her back propped against the wall.

  “He needs you, Claire? Gabe Hunter doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who needs anyone.”

  “Yes, he does.” Metal bedsprings squeaked as the other woman drew up her knees. “He just hasn’t gotten around to realizing it yet.”

  “Watch it,” Julia drawled. “You’re even starting to sound like him.”

  Smiling, Claire raised her voice to be heard over the beat of the music. “You’ve only been in-country a little over three weeks. You haven’t had time to get to know him. There’s another man behind that cocky swagger and ridiculous mustache. A kind man.”