The Colonel's Daughter (7 page)

Before she had time to ask, an aide appeared and pushed her to X-ray. Jamison followed close behind the stretcher. His focused gaze swept the corridor. Every few seconds, he turned to scan the hallway behind them.

Surely he was being overly cautious. Although after Yolanda’s death and her own run-in with the driver at the cemetery, Michele was relieved to have someone watching her back, a very stoic someone who said little and kept his facial expressions to a minimum.

A friendly tech x-rayed her legs and spinal column, after which Michele returned to the exam room. Just as before, Jamison remained in the hallway, eyeing the flow of medical personnel and patients.

“Did something happen?” Michele finally asked, no longer able to keep her curiosity in check.

Jamison leaned into her room. “While you were with the doc, one of the nurses mentioned some strange dudes in the waiting area.”

Michele rolled her eyes. “Are you always on duty?”

His lips twitched ever so slightly before he returned to his guard post.

She glanced at her watch. What was taking so long? A few minutes later, she checked the time again. And then again.

Everything moved slowly in the emergency room, which frustrated Michele. She had told her mother she planned to run a few errands when she left the house earlier in the day. By now, Roberta would be worried something had happened.

Closing her eyes, Michele tried to stave off the growing anxiety and opened them seconds later to find Jamison next to her, cell phone in hand. “Time to call home.”

“How...how did you know what I was thinking?”

“You kept checking your watch.”

Her mother sounded relieved when she heard Michele’s voice. Choosing her words carefully, Michele relayed what had happened in an upbeat, breezy way.

Of course, Roberta instantly picked up on Michele’s attempt to soft-pedal the news. Before she could completely reassure her mother, a lab tech appeared, needing one more vial of blood.

“Don’t say anything to worry her,” Michele mouthed as she passed the phone to Jamison and then fisted her hand for the blood draw. He retreated to the hallway and finished the conversation there.

“You were on the phone for a long time,” Michele said once the tech returned to the lab and Jamison pocketed his phone. “You didn’t make matters worse, did you?”

“Michele, please. Your mother can handle the truth.”

Truth? She turned her gaze to the lime-green walls and the Norman Rockwell knockoff hanging over the stretcher.

Mildly annoyed with Jamison’s reticence, Michele was more irritated at herself for causing the problem in the first place. With an ongoing investigation, the CID agent needed to be back at his office, and her mother needed to deal with the plans for the homecoming without having to worry about her daughter.

A nurse stuck her head through the door and smiled. “The lab needed to rerun a test. The results should be back shortly.”

Shortly
lapsed into thirty minutes of Michele trying to think of anything except Jamison standing guard in the hallway. Closing her eyes, she counted sheep but found the woolly animals even more stubborn than her CID bodyguard.

At some point, she must have dozed off. A noise from the hallway jerked her awake. Michele glanced up to find her mother standing in the doorway.

With three strides, Roberta closed the distance to where Michele lay and reached for her hand. “Jamison arranged for two nice military policemen to drive me here, and despite their assurances that you hadn’t been hurt, I kept thinking of what could have been.”

“I’m fine, Mother. As soon as the results come back from the laboratory, the doctor plans to release me.”

“Which is what Jamison said.” Roberta glanced back to where he stood in the hallway. “Why don’t you come inside and wait with us, Jamison?”

Peering around her mother, Michele rolled her eyes to indicate how frustrated she was with Jamison’s attempt to help. If he hadn’t provided an escort to the hospital, her mother probably would have remained at home.

He ignored Michele’s theatrics. “Thank you, Mrs. Logan. But I prefer the hallway.”

Michele thought of another way to take him off guard duty. “Jamison arranged for my car and his to be brought to the hospital, Mother, so you can drive me home.”

“Of course, dear.” Roberta patted Michele’s arm and then smiled at Jamison through the open doorway. “Don’t let us hold you up, if you need to get back to post.”

“It’s not a problem, ma’am.”

He returned her mother’s smile, then grabbed the doorknob and fixed a steady gaze at Michele. “I’ll be in the hallway until you’re released from the E.R. Then I’m driving you home, Michele. Your mother can ride with us or drive back with one of the military policemen who brought her here. The other officer will follow us in your car.”

With that, he closed the door, cutting off Michele’s attempt to object. Irritated by his pronouncement of what would happen as well as the laboratory results that were taking much too long, Michele dropped her legs over the edge of the gurney, sat up and huffed.

“Jamison hasn’t been in the best of moods since the ambulance brought me here.”

“I’m sure he’s just worried about you.” Roberta patted Michele’s arm. “I was worried, too, after you called. That’s why I had to see for myself that you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Mother.” Even she was getting tired of the pat response she offered whenever anyone questioned her well-being.

Roberta raised her hand to her neck and fiddled with the collar of her blouse. “And Lance’s gravestone? Jamison said someone had vandalized the marker.”

“One of the police officers mentioned a group of local teens who have been getting out of hand.” Michele didn’t bring up a possible connection between what had happened at the cemetery and the murder on post.

“The police wanted to know the last time anyone had visited the grave site,” she said instead. “I said no one in the family had been there recently.”

Her mother studied the picture on the wall of a young boy in a Boy Scout uniform, standing proud while his mother pinned a medal on his chest.

“Is that right, Mother?” Michele pressed.

Seemingly lost in her own thoughts, Roberta hesitated before she looked at Michele. “What did you say, dear?”

“How long has it been since you visited Lance’s grave?”

“Not long.” Roberta’s response came too quickly. She bit down on her lip and turned toward the door just as it opened.

The doctor stepped into the room, a medical file in hand. “The lab results look good, Ms. Logan, and the X-rays were fine. Nothing broken. Remember, ibuprofen as needed, and take it easy for the next couple days. The muscle relaxers should help your back. Call if anything changes.”

A nurse handed Michele her final paperwork and an aide pushed a wheelchair into the room as soon as the doctor had left. Once outside, Michele waited while Jamison retrieved his car.

“You have to be more careful, dear,” her mother chattered at her side, her hand, once again, tugging nervously at her collar. “When I think what could have happened...”

“But it didn’t. Besides, Jamison arrived immediately after the accident. He called the police and EMTs.”

“And if he hadn’t followed you to the cemetery, you could still be lying by the side of the road.”

Although Michele knew her mother was right, she wouldn’t waste time worrying about could-have-beens. Right now she wanted to go home and take a hot shower and change into something other than her rain-damp clothing.

Jamison pulled his sports car up to the curb. A military policeman parked behind him, and a second MP angled Michele’s car into the lineup.

Roberta waved a greeting to the young man at the wheel of the second car before she turned back to Michele. “You ride with Jamison, and I’ll go with the nice military policeman who brought me.”

“Are you sure, Mother?”

Roberta nodded a bit too enthusiastically. “Of course, dear. Besides, you and Jamison probably have a lot to talk over.”

Michele’s mind was too fuzzy to override her mother. She had a headache and her left leg ached.

Jamison opened the passenger door and helped Michele out of the wheelchair. Wobbly as she was, she appreciated his strong arms supporting her. She inhaled the scent of him and, for an instant, rested her head against his shoulder, comforted by his closeness.

“Easy does it.” His voice was filled with warmth as he gently ushered her forward.

Fighting off the desire to remain wrapped in his embrace, Michele slid onto the leather seat, feeling an instant weariness. She waited for Jamison to round the car and climb behind the wheel.

“I could have driven my own car back to post.” Although she attempted to sound strong, the faint tremble in her voice spoke volumes about how she really felt.

“Not after that blow you took. You need to take it easy. The EMTs agreed, as I recall.”

She nodded. “They did say something to that effect.” The doctor had done so, as well, which she didn’t mention. “I appreciate your help, Jamison, and hate tying up your day. I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

He put the car into gear and pulled onto the main road, heading back to Fort Rickman. “Stop blaming yourself for everything that happens, Michele. I never should have allowed you to drive to the cemetery alone. As soon as I realized your safety could be at risk, I raced to catch up to you.” His eyes were filled with regret as he turned to look at her. “You weren’t at fault, Michele. I was.”

“I’m just glad you got there when you did.”

He reached out and briefly squeezed her hand. “Have you remembered anything else about the driver?”

She shook her head. “Everything happened so quickly. All I could think about was getting out of the way.”

“Thank God, you weren’t seriously hurt.”

The muscles in her neck tightened. “I’m not sure God had anything to do with it.”

She turned toward the window. When they had dated, Michele’s heart had softened to the message Jamison had shared about a loving God who wanted the best for His children. Jamison’s enthusiasm and commitment to Christ had made her rethink what had happened to her brother and the reasons she had retreated from the Lord. She knew there was a higher power who gave life. Her problem was the seemingly fickle way in which He took that life away.

Oil and water didn’t mix. Jamison was a believer and deserved someone who shared his faith. Not a woman who rejected anything to do with God.

“It’s still about Lance, isn’t it, Michele?”

Jamison deserved answers that she didn’t know how to put into words. Michele worried her fingers and tried to pull the random thoughts pinging through her mind into some type of order.

“It’s...it’s not just Lance,” she finally admitted. “Other things have happened.”

“Like?”

What could she tell him? Like her father being wounded shortly after he had arrived in Afghanistan. Her mother had prayed for his safety, but God hadn’t listened, just as He hadn’t listened two years ago when Michele had asked God to keep Lance safe.

Fast-forward to when Michele’s resolve had started to soften, and she had tentatively asked the Lord to watch over the CID agent she was beginning to care about in a very special way. Not long after that, her worst fears had been realized when the shooting on post almost claimed Jamison’s life.

Suddenly chilled, Michele ran her hands over her arms.

“Cold?”

Without waiting for her reply, Jamison turned on the heat. She was grateful for his response to her unspoken need. Her body temperature had plummeted since she had gotten into the car.

“Why don’t you close your eyes and relax?” Jamison suggested. Relieved she wouldn’t have to answer any more questions, she settled back in the seat.

Her eyes grew heavy, probably from the muscle relaxer the doctor had given her. She drifted in and out of sleep, hearing snippets of a conversation Jamison had on his cell.

“She’s okay, Dawson. We’re headed back to post now. Tell Chief Wilson I’ll brief him back at the office, once I ensure Mrs. Logan and Michele are safe at home.”

Feeling the car decelerate, she blinked her eyes open, surprised they were already at her parents’ quarters. Both military policemen parked behind Jamison. Roberta met them on the sidewalk, her cell phone in hand.

“Your father just called with good news. He pulled a few strings and got the general’s approval to move up the brigade’s return. If everything goes as planned, they should arrive Friday morning.”

Michele attempted to smile. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Major Hughes will be on board the first plane.” Roberta glanced at Jamison. “Stanley wants him escorted off the aircraft ahead of the other soldiers so he can be reunited with his children in a private area.”

“I’ll ensure that’s taken care of, ma’am.”

Supporting Michele’s arm, he helped her from the car and guided her toward the house. “Security needs to be tightened for the homecoming ceremony, Mrs. Logan. It might be wise to schedule a briefing for the family members this evening. Although it’s short notice, I can reserve the auditorium on post.”

Roberta nodded. “The wives were already planning to get together tomorrow to make goody bags for the soldiers who don’t have families. The barracks need to be swept out and dusted for the guys, the beds made, that type of thing. I planned to send a reminder email to the wives later this afternoon. Information about the briefing will be easy enough to add.”

“I’d like to review some safety measures they can take around their homes, as well as the security we’ll put in place at the airfield.”

“Of course.”

Michele and Jamison followed Roberta inside. A few of the wives had remained at the house and were still in the living room. They looked up as Michele excused herself to change clothes. She stopped on the stairway to hear her mother share the good news about the unit’s return. The women seemed visibly relieved.

Michele felt just the opposite.

Bad news came in threes.

Yolanda had been murdered.

Lance’s gravestone had been desecrated, and Michele had been wounded in a hit-and-run accident.