Guardian Page 21

  “Because I had a job to do.”

  “So do I, damn it.” He thumped the steering wheel. Traffic came to a total standstill; just his damn luck today.

  Digging into the file, she pulled out the photo Ricky had drawn and held it up inches away from his face. “And our job should be about this. Only this. Ricky may not remember getting hit, but he remembers the flash, that split second of horror that something was about to hit his house. It’s up to us to figure out why that happened, even if it sends your sister’s lover to jail. Even if it closes down your whole damn squadron.”

  The drawing held his eyes, homing in his complete focus as something shifted in his brain, pieces of information shadow dancing with each other. What had he and Sophie talked about last night? How this picture was a reminder of that moment Ricky’s life changed in a flash.

  David shut out the world and worked to grasp that elusive something his subconscious was trying to tell him about the childish picture. A house. A boy on the couch. A flash outside the window.

  A house intact.

  The flash before impact.

  “David? Are you even listening to me?”

  He held up his hand. “In a flash. Sophie, it’s about the flash. We’ve got to get back to the squadron. I think I know exactly what happened the night Ricky Vasquez was injured.”

  * * *

  Parked in front of a row of computer screens, Sophie watched footage of an AC-130 in flight, shooting its cannons, the target exploding. Again and again, the test footage rolled.

  David had doubled back to the base, making record time since the traffic congestion was only for outgoing cars. He’d refused to tell her what he thought he’d figured out from Ricky’s picture. Instead, David had driven her to his squadron. He’d ushered her through security, where she’d have to leave her purse and cell phone behind before entering a vaulted room full of computers.

  Aviators and testers sat at different stations, some reviewing data, others monitoring night flight missions in progress.

  Blocking out the buzz of activity around her, she pressed her hands to the table, shaking her head. “David, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing here.”

  Other than shooting up a bunch of old, deserted trailers set up as targets in the middle of the desert range.

  He leaned over her shoulder, typing on the keyboard, tightening the focus on the next trailer about to be blown to smithereens. It sure appeared to her that the new gun turret modification worked just fine. Her frustration increased all the more with the musky scent of him so close and distracting.

  Their argument still lurked on hold between them, neither of them touching. Instead, he seemed to be using the case as an excuse to avoid talking through why he hadn’t been up front with her about Captain Tate’s involvement with Madison.

  “Sophie,” he tapped the screen, “look closer. Watch the flash.”

  Fingers flying over the keyboard, he slowed the footage to a frame-by-frame playback.

  “Okay, so a flash happens before the explosion. Is the shell blowing up prematurely?”

  “No, that’s the laser checking the target before the shot. The fire control officer has to trigger that laser before he fires.”

  “So Captain Tate would have made two mistakes?”

  “Or maybe none at all.” He shifted to sit at the computer next to her. That screen was filled with data rather than doomsday explosions. “Here’s the log data for the flight in question. If you look here, it shows the laser was in the Off position even though Ricky remembers seeing the flash. There’s no way Tate could have fired the laser. It must have malfunctioned and fired itself. And if the laser malfunctioned, then the gun could have as well.”

  A malfunction could explain everything, but it felt like too convenient an answer. “Why do you have data that shows the laser was off, but no data on whether or not his gun controls were in the Off position?”

  “The plane had left the range, and data readout ends once the plane leaves the range. Except for the laser. We have to track how many hours the laser is used for maintenance purposes. The laser was off. This level of malfunction would also explain why the computers didn’t register that there was still a round left.”

  “How did this contingency never come up before?” She leaned back in the chair, her eyes locked on the frozen image. The flash and intact target mirrored Ricky’s drawing, the laser flash he would have seen before the impact.

  “We were too focused on the data we had inside the range. This changes everything. If the laser fired on its own, then the gun could have as well. We can send the new turret system back to the subcontractor for review. With this data, he should be able to trace the malfunction in the programming, to tell us what went wrong. This could clear Tate—and keep this from happening again.”

  She rolled back the chair from the monitor, fast, energized by the possibility of a real break in the case. “This could also bring the contractor’s work into question. We’ll have to scrutinize his part of the testing process more closely.” She looked up sharply at David. “I assume you don’t have a problem with that?”

  “None whatsoever. I only want the truth.”

  There was no missing the hint of anger—even disappointment—in his eyes. Her accusations about Tate had upset David, and he wasn’t ready to forget.

  Neither was she. And yes, she embraced the distraction of work to keep from dealing with her jumbled feelings for David. “I have to get back to my cell phone and call Geoffrey. We need to file for a continuance until we can sort this all out.”

  For the first time since this horrific trial started, she saw light at the end of the tunnel work-wise. She just prayed that flash of hope brought the answers she sought, and not a bigger explosion personally.

  * * *

  David paced outside Sophie’s office building, cell phone pressed to his ear. He’d been hauling people out of bed for the past hour, setting the wheels in motion. Sophie had already notified her boss, and Lieutenant Colonel Vaughn was going to try and get a continuance for Tate’s trial.

  But they couldn’t count on that. With only a week left, he needed answers from the contractor. Keith Nelson would no doubt require babysitting through the entire search through the data. The contractor had such a huge chip on his shoulder, owning up to a mistake on his side wasn’t going to come easy.

  Not to mention his company would then be open to a major lawsuit from Ricky’s family.

  And this still would bring backlash to the new squadron commander for not keeping closer tabs on the program rather than sending in David to tighten the reins after an accident.

  Nelson’s voice mail picked up.

  David resisted the urge to pitch the cell phone into the bushes and instead dialed again.

  Sophie was inside, gathering up all of Keith Nelson’s contracts to scrutinize. If a mistake had been made, hopefully it was an honest error. But if Nelson had tried to pull something? Then God only knew what else he may have done. Sophie wasn’t leaving anything to chance, and he appreciated her legal eye.

  Between them, they had it covered.

  They made a helluva team. He just wished she could see that.

  Nelson’s voice mail clicked on again.

  Damn it, why wasn’t Nelson picking up?

  With BlackBerrys and cell phones, there was no such thing as “unreachable” in their work world.

  He thumbed Nelson’s home phone, even though he preferred to discuss this over their secured cells.

  The phone rang three times before someone picked up. About damn time.

  “Hello?” a woman’s hesitant voice answered, sniffling, hoarse…As if she was crying?

  “Sorry to bother you so late, ma’am. Could I speak to Keith Nelson? Tell him it’s Major Berg calling with an emergency.”

  She gasped, hiccupping on a sob. “Major Berg? Keith can’t come to the phone.” Her breath hitched, as she started crying again. “He, he…shot himself. He’s dead. My husband ki
lled himself. The police are here and an ambulance, but he’s gone…He’s…”

  David sagged down to sit on the top step. What the hell? He forced his stunned brain to go on autopilot and offer the woman condolences. “Ma’am, I am so very sorry for your loss.”

  “It’s your fault,” she cried bitterly into the phone. “He said in his note it’s all your fault, that you were going to dig into all his old contracts and send him to jail…”

  Her voice trailed off, keening in her grief. He heard someone talking soothingly to her in the background, then picking up the phone, “My mother can’t speak to anyone now,” a young man said into the receiver. “So leave her alone and talk to the police.”

  The line disconnected and the world went eerily quiet, much like the moment right after the crash landing. Everything had been life-and-death horrifying one second, then safe the next. His old contracts? Finally, they had a solid lead on who must have been threatening Sophie.

  All signs indicated Keith Nelson was responsible for the malfunction that caused the AC-130’s gun to misfire. Given his desperate act tonight, it stood to reason he’d been willing to do anything to hide his mistake. He’d certainly had the ability and access to tamper with the Cessna’s fuel tank. He’d been stalking and attacking Sophie too…? Keep her rattled, keep her from getting too close to the real answer of what happened?

  Hell, they might never know his reasoning, and God, nobody wanted this sort of outcome. Furthermore, Keith’s suicide would make it all the tougher to figure out if he’d had accomplices or underlings.

  Exhaustion weighted down his shoulders. Adrenaline seeped from him after running full tilt for so long. Wearily, he pushed to his feet again. He needed to tell Sophie what had happened. The judge would have to halt the case now, until this mess could be sorted out. All AC-130s with the new gun turret system would be grounded.

  There was nothing more he could do tonight.

  * * *

  Sophie downloaded file after file, contract after contract, while David checked in with others on his test team. She would be up all night reading—probably for days. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for in Keith Nelson’s proposals. But it had been her experience that when someone skirted the rules in one place, that person usually blurred the lines in dozens of other ways as well.

  Larger government contracts had dozens of attorneys review them. But the smaller subcontractor bids and agreements? Those often sailed through with only one set of legal eyes checking them over. Some had even been reviewed by her boss, although smaller bids usually went to the junior legal staff. It would be easier to try and slip things by one person, especially a newbie, and if they were noted by the reviewing lawyer, then the contractor could simply call it part of the negotiating process and make a line edit. She could get started now, then pass them along to Geoffrey to review as well.

  At least if she was working nonstop, she could put off thinking about her fight with David. Now wasn’t that just a mature attitude?

  Her head fell to rest on her desk, and she squeezed her eyes closed tightly against the sting of tears. When had she turned into such a coward?

  “Are you all right?”

  The masculine voice pulled her upright sharply. Her boss stood in her office doorway, still wearing his uniform.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Vaughn, I didn’t know you were still here.”

  “It’s after hours. You can call me Geoffrey.” He leaned against the door frame. “Thanks for the heads-up on Keith Nelson. What a lucky break for Captain Tate.”

  “What a lucky break for the air force overall that we’ll know what really happened.” She rolled her chair back.

  “Of course.” He rubbed behind his neck. “What are you doing here so late? You should be out celebrating your victory with your new boyfriend. Or picking up your kid in California now that you’re all safe again.”

  She wouldn’t say she felt safe. Not yet. Not until she’d absolutely ruled out everyone in Nelson’s office as a possible accomplice.

  Shaking her head, she pulled the CD out of her computer. “No celebrating yet.”

  “Ah, come on. I’ll bet your son’s ready for more baseball by the beach. I’m happy to help him out. I was famous on campus in law school for my slider.”

  Distracted, she looked up. “Slider?”

  “Slider. You know, a type of pitch…Wow, your boy really does need my help.”

  “Thanks, Geoffrey. I’ll keep that in mind.” She closed her briefcase. “But before I can have my family back together, I need to go over all the government contracts made with Nelson’s company.”

  “Are you questioning the work of this office? Of my office?”

  An uneasy sensation prickled up her spine, the same feeling she’d gotten right before her convoy had been ambushed in the Middle East. Standing, she grabbed her briefcase and started for the door. “I should go home now. David’s waiting for me outside.”

  Geoffrey’s hand shot out, blocking her path. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave. And since I’ve sealed off the front entrance, your boyfriend won’t be getting through the front door until long after I’ve left from another exit.”

  Her boss pulled a gun from behind his back and pointed it directly at her chest, right above the rows of ribbons pinned to her uniform.

  Confusion jockeyed with fear. What the hell was Geoffrey doing? And why was he so freaked out over the Nelson contracts?

  Then, as she looked at the gun before staring up into his eyes, the truth exploded in her mind with the flashing clarity of a legal case solved.

  Except there was no victory here. Just utter rage as she peered into the eyes of the man who’d been behind all the threats on her and those she loved most. She didn’t know why, but she’d been betrayed and ambushed by one of her own, someone she should have been able to trust to have her back. And even worse, she’d been caught without a weapon, with nothing more than a briefcase for armor.

  “Geoffrey, you’ve got to stop and think.” She worked to keep her voice calm, but outtalking another lawyer was a dicey proposition at best. “I don’t know what’s going on here, or why, but this is crazy.”

  “Damn straight it’s crazy.” He held out a hand. “Now give me the CD you just burned from your computer and put in your briefcase.”

  The CD? With all of Nelson’s contracts? The “why” became all too clear. She would bet her last dollar Geoffrey was the lone reviewing attorney on many, if not all, of Nelson’s agreements with the government. The money to be made off those kinds of cover-ups could be huge.

  “If Nelson wasn’t such a fuckup, this wouldn’t be happening.” The gun pressed deeper into her flesh.

  “Since you’re obviously going to kill me, could you at least give me the satisfaction of knowing what I’m going to die for?” And please God, if she could keep him talking and bragging long enough, David would come looking for her, would sense something wrong with the sealed doors and find a way in.

  If she hadn’t put emotional walls between them, he would have been here with her now. And the thought of him being in harm’s way, too, made her physically ill.

  “Nelson knew about the computer malfunction with the gun turret, but he didn’t want to soak up the cost of stopping the project.” He pushed the barrel of the 9 mm harder against her, pushing her back one step and then another. “He hoped to fix the problem before it finished the test phase. Then the accident happened, and he was really scrambling to cover his tracks.”

  The back of her legs bumped her desk. “Cover your tracks, too, apparently.”

  “No need to get bitchy, Sophie, dear.”

  “And what should I be right now? Happy?”

  He crowded her, walking her around the desk until she sank into her chair again.

  “You should be nice, Sophie, because I’m in control of how badly your death will hurt. Since Nelson has already killed himself over this cluster-fuck, I figure why not go for two suicides? You were in this tog
ether, and rather than face the consequences, the dishonor, you killed yourself as well.”

  She barely bit off the gasp of horror. Could he actually pull that off? And, oh God, her son who’d only just come to grips with losing his father would think his mother did leave him. Full-blown panic threatened to mushroom through her brain, pushing out any chance of reasonable thought. She sucked in breath after breath, praying for the calm to listen, to outthink this monster she’d foolishly trusted.

  She had to stay clearheaded, try to think of some way to leave David a clue so that even if she didn’t make it, he would know she hadn’t committed suicide. David would fight for her even if no one else believed she’d been murdered.

  “I’ll be so very sad as I tell everyone how distraught you’ve been since your husband died, how I wish I’d seen the signs.” He knelt in front of her, his aftershave thick and cloying. “If only I’d realized you were so deeply in debt you’ve been taking kickbacks from Nelson. It will be a simple matter for me to adjust the name of just who read over and approved those contracts.”

  “Women don’t commit suicide by shooting themselves.” She searched for something, anything to say to delay him. “We don’t like to leave a mess for others to clean up.”

  “That’s why you’re not going to shoot yourself. Faking a gunshot suicide is too tricky anyway, what with all the forensics on the directionality of blood splatter.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pouch of white powder. “You’re going to overdose. Once you’re pliant from the coke I’ll send up your nose, then I’ll shoot you up. A painless way to go. You should thank me.”

  “Not a chance. I’ll fight you, kick, scratch. I’ll claw your DNA so far under my nails, you’ll never get it out.”

  He leaned in so close his fetid breath steamed over her face. “Then I’ll shoot you and hide your body so deep in the desert, once the wild animals are through gnawing on your bones, there won’t be anything left to find.”

  * * *

  For the first time in his career, David faced a crisis like a civilian instead of a man in uniform. Seeing the gun in Lieutenant Colonel Geoffrey Vaughn’s hand rocked the ground under David’s feet.