Faithful Service, Silent Hearts Page 22

  "Hey watch it," Carmen said in mock anger, pulling her lover away from Devon, who was sporting a cocky grin. "And, mi chica, when I said come out more, that was supposed to mean more than every three months." Her dark eyes looked up at the taller woman with concern, "You doing okay?"

  "C'mon," Devon said lightly, dropping an arm around the Latina woman's shoulder, "I thought you were my physical therapist. What are you gonna start shrinking my head now too?"

  Carmen gave her a smile and a quick look to say she was there if Devon needed to talk. Devon gave her a nod in return and moved around to the back of the large table, grabbing a mug of beer and finding a chair out of the way from the larger group.

  Carmen was a combat medic in Grenada and seen some pretty rough action. She knew what holding the horrors inside could do to a person. There were plenty of soldiers whose physical wounds were nothing compared to the psychological wounds. She watched as Devon seated herself slightly apart from the rest of the group. Eventually, the cute blonde lieutenant was going to crack if she didn't start talking to someone, and Carmen hoped that would be soon.

  When the group started playing quarters, Devon figured she better switch to water if she was going to be able to drive Ann home. She glanced over at her friend, chuckling as she missed and had to drink another shot. Oh, yeah, she is gonna need a ride. She found a small space at the bar and stood waiting, dollar in hand. Moments later, Tammy appeared in front of her, a mischievous grin on her face. "What can I get you, ma'am?" her fingers brushed briefly across Devon's fingers.

  Feeling the blush rise in her cheeks, but powerless to stop it, Devon replied, "Just water tonight, thanks." She raised her eyes to meet Tammy's. The brunette was obviously just as interested as she was the first night they met, and seemingly not a bit bothered by the fact that Devon hadn't stayed that night or even called since then. Although Devon's body was reacting of its own volition, when Tammy returned with the bottle of water with the same hungry look in her eyes, she managed to focus. "Thanks, I have to make sure my friend gets home tonight," she cocked her head toward the loud group across the bar.

  "Okay, sweetie, you know where to find me if you change your mind." With that, Tammy was pouring several more shots for the next customer.

  Spotting an open stool at the end of the bar, Devon took the opportunity to move to the corner for a few minutes. From this vantage point, she could survey the entire club as well as keep an eye on her charge. She opened the bottle and took a long satisfying chug of the icy water before swiveling around on the stool to have a look around. Couples leaned together at small tables for two along the wall, the dance floor was packed with gyrating bodies sweating to the music, and she guessed most of the people at the bar were probably single, like her.

  As the DJ transitioned into a slow song and equal numbers of couples either moved from or toward the dance floor, Devon caught sight of a familiar face at the far corner of the room. The woman, who was watching the softball team's table, didn't see Devon approaching from the opposite side of the bar. She paled visibly when the lieutenant turned the chair around in the air, dropped it to the floor and straddled the back, coming to rest inches in front of her.

  "Hello Susan." The ice blue eyes bored into the woman. Devon laughed hollowly at the look of shock on the investigator's face. "What, aren't you glad to see me?" She raised her index finger to her mouth as if in thought, "Oh, no, that's right. You are supposed to see me, I'm just not supposed to know who you are, right?"

  Susan's mind scrambled trying to figure out what to say or do. Obviously since the last time, James found out who she was. Probably McKinley figured it out. That's why she had selected this table in the darkest part of the room so as not to be seen. She couldn't believe that her surveillance subject had just walked right over and had the balls to sit right down and challenge her. How did she miss her leaving the rest of the group? Damn. She had to get her shit together. Well, no choice now, she had to deal with this.

  "Hello, Devon. How are you?" She smiled as naturally as she could. She couldn't help it, she really did like her. God, Honeycutt would have a stroke if he knew that.

  Devon narrowed her eyes, studying the woman. She couldn't be sure, but she thought that the question was genuine. Susan was looking at her with what looked like actual affection.

  Confused, Devon shook her head. "Fine," she mumbled, taking a drink from the water bottle. She focused instead on Mac's warning. This woman had caused good people to lose their careers, and Devon had no doubt she was next on the list of targets.

  "Would you believe I just came in to have a drink?" Susan asked. She knew what the boss wanted her to do. What she was supposed to do. Reel in her target. She sensed hesitation from the lieutenant's initial confrontation. Now was the time to make a play.

  "No. I wouldn't." Devon reminded herself that the investigators use any tactic necessary to bait their prey. The whole concerned look on her face was just an act. That's right and the best defense is a good offense as they say. She smiled at Susan, "But, since we're both here, what are you drinking? I'll buy."

  "Oh, no-"

  "Really, I insist," Devon said as she stood, "rum and coke if I remember correctly, right?" She moved with long strides toward the bar before Susan could answer. Susan watched her target move confidently through the crowd toward the bar, realizing her nerves were jumping. Why did she come here again alone, without a backup? No doubt she was trying to get additional information about James for her investigation. That's what she told herself when she got dressed tonight, even as she fussed over exactly what outfit to wear and primped at the mirror for nearly thirty minutes.

  Her eyes were still on Devon as she stood leaning a hip against the bar, waiting for her order. Susan noted the faded jeans the lieutenant was wearing fit quite nicely and she could make out the muscles in her back beneath the white polo shirt as Devon leaned across the bar, listening as the bartender said something directly into her ear. Susan was inexplicably irritated by the obviously intimate exchange between the two women. What the hell is that about? She reminded herself to concentrate on the investigation.

  Devon returned from the bar with Susan's drink and another bottle of water for herself, once again sitting with her legs straddling the back of the wooden chair, scrutinizing the brunette. She seemed nervous, making Devon inwardly pleased to be rattling the investigator. She watched Susan shift in her chair.

  Susan took a long drink from her glass, grateful for something to distract her from the intense blue eyes locked on her. Her mind was racing. She had tried to ignore the conflicting feelings inside regarding Lieutenant James for quite some time. When she took the case everything seemed black and white, her duty was clear. Now that she met the lieutenant more than once she didn't know what she believed anymore.

  "So, why don't you tell me your real name," Devon suggested, "That would only be fair because I'm sure you know everything there is to know about me." She watched the investigator's face carefully and saw the brown eyes soften to reveal a surprising vulnerability. After finishing her drink, the woman pushed the glass several times back and forth on the table between her hands, seemingly uncertain how to answer.

  She drew in a deep breath and returned Devon's stare, "My name really is Susan." Suddenly, she had this desire to come fully clean, confess her role in the investigation and throw herself at the mercy of this intriguing woman. Being this close to her was making Susan wish that she really was just a local Baltimore girl having a drink with a dashing blond stranger.

  "Okay, Susan," the blue eyes regarded her seriously, "I think we can safely say that you're not a local woman who's just a regular here at the club." Susan nodded, feeling a scathing rebuke coming. Devon continued, her hard stare pinning the agent back in her chair, "Since you think you're on the side of moral integrity, truth and justice, why don't you explain to me how being in
this bar makes me a less effective officer or less patriotic for that matter?"

  Devon had now become the interrogator and she watched Susan struggle to maintain eye contact. She grasped the empty tumbler on the table, rolling it between her palms. Surprisingly, it looked as though the investigator was being honest as she began to speak.

  "I used to believe that I was enforcing regulations-yes for the good of the military-I was young and everything was black and white." Devon's expression did not change as she listened. "Lately, I'm not so sure about what's right and wrong." Susan straightened in her chair and placed her palms down on the table, so close to Devon's hand that she imagined she could feel the heat of her skin.

  "I didn't follow you here tonight, although I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope to see you." Devon's brows knit together as a frown transformed her features. Susan pushed ahead, "On paper, it seemed horribly wrong to come after someone like you. But once I actually met you I knew-"

  "Hey, chica! Who's your cute friend?" Carmen stepped up to the table between their chairs.

  Devon stood abruptly, spinning the chair back around and pushing it under the table.

  "Goodnight." She said quietly to Susan, before leading the Latina woman back to the rear of the club where the team was still partying.

  Devon collected Ann from the table, drawing disapproving shouts from the others who were enjoying getting the petty officer completely drunk. She bid goodnight to the group, thanking Carmen and Elaina for rounding up the gang for Ann's farewell bash. Devon half carried Ann toward the front door, noting that Susan's table was empty as she passed by. An hour later, she had she had successfully gotten Ann into bed in the spare room of her apartment and decided that she was in need of a hot shower to wash off the smell of smoke and stale alcohol of the bar.

  Stripping off her clothes, she stepped into the steam filled enclosure, adjusting the water flow so that a hard pulsing spray beat against her skin. While she lathered and scrubbed head to toe, her mind replayed the odd interaction with the CID investigator. Susan. Devon supposed there was no reason not to believe that was really her name, she just wondered if anything else the woman said was the truth, and was disturbed that a part of her wanted to believe the woman. She wondered how anyone could make a living trying to destroy other people's lives. Stepping from the shower and briskly towel drying her hair, Devon decided that she should not spend much time trying to understand a person like Susan.

  #

  Susan sat at the small kitchen table in her apartment with the photographic evidence she had collected during the past weeks spread out before her. Every night she returned to wait outside the business. Twice more she saw him. That convinced her this was no mistake. The local property tax records were easy enough to access, giving her the name of the property owner. From there it was short work to access background information on him, which led to the real nature of the business. It was an after-hours gay club.

  She checked all of the open investigations and found no reference to the establishment in any of the ongoing official investigations. That only left two options. He was either conducting his own investigation, or he was a customer. Susan stared at the pictures. Could this be possible? It was too much to think about. She poured another drink and tried to calm her frazzled nerves. Right now, she had to think this through and proceed carefully. One misstep on her part could be disastrous. If she was wrong it was the end of her career. If she was right, the implications were just unbelievable.

  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, h
is 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.