Yellow Ribbons (26 page)

“My client and I would like to know what this is all about.” Peters’s voice was calm yet firm. From experience, Greg knew few things rattled him.

Juarez leaned forward. “We have evidence to suggest Detective Pattison was having a questionable relationship with Mick Kenyon and Regina Whittaker, both of whom are now conveniently dead. E-mails between Kenyon and you,
partner
. They date back many months. We have info that places you at the scene of the Whittaker home at Christmas.”

Juarez was playing it close to the vest. Trying to give Pattison enough yellow ribbon to hang himself. Twisting what they knew in order to trip Pattison up. It wouldn’t be easy. Pattison was well versed in the tactics used by that side of the table. Greg wondered how he felt now, being on the opposite side. Cocky, self-assured, judging from the way he slouched in the chair and dared Juarez to find something on him.

A nod from Peters allowed Pattison to speak.

Pattison rolled his shoulders forward and folded his hands on the table. “Yes.”

“And now they’re both dead.” Juarez tapped his pen on the pad in front of him.

“Mick killed himself after he killed Tipton and Regina.”

“You know this how?”

Pattison sighed, like he was put upon and greatly inconvenienced by all this. “He called that night to tell me he fucked up and begged me for help. I found him in his car four blocks down, drunk on his ass. He told me what he’d done. I told him he was going to jail. He begged me to not take him in like that, to let him sober up first. I figured the guy deserved that much. I knew where to find him. I knew he did it. He wasn’t going anywhere. I saw deputies had responded to the scene, knew the girls were okay, so I took him home and told him he had until morning to make this right. Come that morning, I was hauling his ass in, sober or not.”

Greg wondered if there were any snippets of truth woven in with the lies.

“How you get back?”

Pattison frowned. “I called a cab.”
Idiot
was implied. “I got the call about the murders, called Jordan to back me up, and got back as soon as I could.”

“So he was already on his way to Kenyon’s house when we got there,” Greg said to Jordan. It didn’t explain Cornwall though.

“The most you’ve got on my client is hindering an investigation,” Peters said. “Why the heavy takedown?”

“There’s the issue of a murder on base. Cornwall’s assault on Captain Elaine Hollister at the Whittaker house.”

Pattison gave a halfhearted chuckle. “What does that have to do with me?”

Peters put his arm out, requesting his silence. “Both of which fall under military jurisdiction. Neither have anything to do with my client.”

“Cornwall was at the Whittaker shed today, aggressively retrieving his cell phone from the site as Captain Hollister was about to take it into evidence.”

Pattison slowly shook his head. “Again, not my problem. I barely know the man.”

Juarez smirked. “Oh, I’d say you know him very well, and we have the e-mails and texts to prove it. We also have Mick Kenyon’s laptop.”

A flush covered Pattison’s face.

Gotcha
! Greg’s grin made his cheeks hurt. Damned if Juarez wasn’t top-notch after all.

“Give us a moment,” Peters asked.

Juarez nodded and left. He ducked into observation. “Moving on to Cornwall now.”

They turned their attention to that monitor and Jordan flicked it on. Greg didn’t know who looked more haggard—Cornwall or his public defender. The young woman looked like she wished she hadn’t caught this case. Cornwall hunched in his chair, fiddling with the bandages wrapped around his hands and arms.

Good girl, Mita.

Another bandage covered his nose. This was the Cornwall Greg knew, submissive, nervous, unable to make eye contact. Not the crazed maniac who’d tried to take Lani.

“I must confess that I have no idea where to begin,” Juarez said as he took his seat. “We’re going to work our way backward, starting with why you assaulted Captain Hollister.”

Cornwall’s face crumpled with his sob. “You don’t understand how horrible it is to be so alone, so isolated. Then to find someone who accepts you for who you are…” He pressed his fingers to his lips as if staunching a sob.

Greg knew two things. The first was… If he’d been on the fence about retirement, this would have pushed him over the edge. The second was…

“He knows I’m watching,” Greg told Jordan. “He’s playing on a conversation he tossed my way on Friday before we knew Kenyon was dead.”

“I’m not surprised. Something rattled their little empire. I think it’s been smoke and mirrors, distract and misdirect since then.”

Take him down, Juarez
. Greg’s only regret was that Lani wasn’t here to see it happen. He’d take good notes, because she
was
going to be all right. And no one was going to keep him from her tonight. He knew a dozen ways to sneak into her room. He was, after all, the provost sergeant, and Greg intended to use that to his every advantage.

Lani became aware in slow degrees. The pain in her head had subsided. She was in a hospital bed. Someone was in the room with her. Not Greg; the person wasn’t close enough. She’d been in and out for what felt like an eternity, unable to separate reality from dream. But she had known enough, been aware enough, to feel Greg’s hand in hers, his head on her bed, his lips on her forehead. Her mind was clearer now, and she hoped that meant the danger had passed.

Curiosity made her open her eyes. Corporal Mathias sat in a chair against the wall, tapping away on a laptop.

He glanced up when she stirred. “Hi, ma’am. You’re awake.”

“Yes, I think I can honestly say I am. Why are you here?”

“I was ordered to sit watch and report the second you woke up. So, are you really awake?”

Lani frowned while she pondered the question. “My head’s clear but not one hundred percent, Corporal. Why are you guarding me? Am I in danger? Don’t make me work for it, just spit it out.”

He snapped the laptop closed. “Ma’am, I just follow orders and don’t ask why. So, can I make my phone calls?”

“Go.” She flicked her fingers toward the door.

The minute he walked out, the nurse swooped in to check her vitals. “There you are, right on time.”

Perky didn’t work for Lani this morning. She wanted answers, wanted a status report on her health and the case. Wanted Greg.

“You have a concussion,” the nurse said. “Doctor knocked you out overnight to help with the pain. No bleeding or fracture. Bed rest once you get home for a few days. The doctor will decide from there. Let’s get you up and around and see how you do.”

Lani managed a trip to the bathroom and blessedly was able to brush the cotton from her mouth. She returned to find Greg standing next to her bed. He wore civilian attire—tan slacks and the long-sleeve navy blue shirt she’d gotten him for Christmas. The one that defined his shoulders and chest to perfection. Her heart raced, her legs trembled. If the nurse took her vitals now, she’d be in for a few more days.

“How’s she doing?”

The nurse smiled. “Good. I’m sure the doctor will release her as scheduled. Do you have anyone to help you at home for a few days, Captain?”

“She does,” Greg replied, peeling the sheet back so Lani could crawl into the bed.

“Excellent. I’ll notify the doctor.”

Greg waited until her footsteps padded down the hall, then closed the door and pulled the curtain around her bed. Lani reached for him, close to tears when he sat beside her and wrapped her in a tight hold.

“You’re cold,” she said against his chest.

“It’s freezing outside. Starting to snow up the road.” He eased away and kissed her. “I put in my retirement package today. I’m on terminal leave effective sixteen-thirty today. Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg helped expedite it.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry
. She cried anyway. “Thank God. You’re safe. That’s all I wanted.”

“I know. I was told as much when he strongly suggested I leave the ER yesterday.” He brushed his hand over her bed head. “God, I was so scared. You can bet I was ready to tear some heads off yesterday.”

Lani cupped his cheek and kissed him again. “What happened? Why?”

“It’s a mess. The evidence is all there, once we knew what to look for. The key was the yellow ribbons. They were running a prostitute ring. Yellow ribbon on a man’s house signaled that particular service or a pimp. Yellow ribbon on a woman’s house signaled a hookup. Ink designating the right house shows up under a UV sensor they also thoughtfully sold to clients.”

“What? Kenyon, Pattison, and Cornwall were running prostitution?”

“Shepard and her husband were part of it too. Good news.” He beamed. “Mita will be living with us.”

Lani’s heart did a little flip of joy, but confusion edged it out. “And Tipton?”

“We found encrypted notes on his home computer. He’d suspected something but wasn’t sure how deep it went. He and Lance Corporal Owens were working on it together. Owens confirmed that. Her pregnancy was a complication and an opportunity they hadn’t anticipated, and Tipton used that to get to Regina. Owens said nothing to us when she was brought in for questioning because—”

“She and Tipton thought you and I were part of it.” She eased onto the pillows.

Greg folded her hand into both of his. “Yes. Regina Whittaker had agreed to come forward in exchange for their help. Kenyon killed them, though it doesn’t look like that was the original intent. He’d gone to the house to shut her up. Had her bound and was going to teach her a lesson when he heard Tipton arrive. Once Kenyon killed Tipton, everything else spiraled out of control. Kenyon hid in the shed until Cornwall could get him out. He was too drunk to drive. Cornwall locked the shed to hide blood evidence. Halfway back to Kenyon’s, they got a flat and called Pattison to get them. Pattison covered up everything from that point on. Shepard got the hell out of the area, but his wife knew what he was up to and wanted her cut. When someone saw her talking to me…”

“I’m surprised Pattison or Cornwall didn’t come after you.” But then Greg was never alone. She and Jordan were at the house with him. And what about those lights Jordan had seen at his place? They didn’t seem so farfetched now.

“I think it was only a matter of time. Cornwall targeted you next when you found his phone. They got spooked when Captain Whittaker mentioned the blood in the shed to Pattison. Cornwall returned to the Whittaker house, messed the shed up, dropped his cell, went back to retrieve it. The porn Nerine found on the major’s computer was a site they’d developed to advertise their business.”

“So, the whole being gay—”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s the least of the problems. Jordan is in all his glory, digging up the culprits.”

Lani slid her arm around his neck and drew him close until they butted foreheads, rubbed noses, and she could reach his lips again.

The rattle of curtain rings jerked them apart to see Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg’s scowl. He plopped his briefcase on the end of the bed. He snorted. Shook his head. Drew in a breath. Released it. Drew it in again.

“I’ve been in with the general and chief of staff a good part of the day. He’s alternately thrilled and outraged over this situation.” He snapped his briefcase open and drew out a folder. “No matter how you spin this, it doesn’t look good on you, Captain.” He waved the folder at her, yanked the hospital table into place, and slapped the folder on top of it. “Your section has been gutted to the core by a crime that boggles the mind. The repercussions will be shaking through the base for a long time. This is for you.” He tapped the folder.

Lani teared up. She’d known it was coming. She’d take it. Greg was safe. That was all that mattered. “I’ll take the court-martial or whatever disciplinary action the general deems appropriate.”

Seaberg half snorted, half laughed. “Shit, at this point, he wants to promote you. This action here is the last thing he wants.” He flipped the folder open.

It took Lani precious seconds to understand what she was looking at. “My resignation?”

“Signed off on and recommended without prejudice by all relevant parties…except you.” He slid the papers to one side. “Leave papers too, effective sixteen-thirty on the day the doctor clears you medically. You understand, Lani, that everyone’s going to talk about your departure. They’re going to think you were involved.”

“I don’t give a damn.” She wanted a life with Greg. A life not hidden in secret. A life with vacations, and kids, and a little dog named Mita. “I know the truth; eventually everyone else will too.”

He pulled a pen from his cammie pocket. “Okay, then sign away.”

Her insides shook, but her hand was steady. She couldn’t wait to tell her parents, the world. To know she would wake up next to Greg for the rest of her life.

“Great.” Seaberg shuffled the papers together. “I’ll see this gets out today, but an advance copy will be faxed to Headquarters Marine Corps. I still expect the two of you to help the new provost marshal transition in. Keep as low a profile as you can. General’s willing to look the other way, considering what you two uncovered, but if he’s pressured—”

“Understood,” Greg said. “But she’s coming home with me.”

“I figured as much.” He tossed the folder into his briefcase and snapped the lid closed. “You realize this is going to cost you.”

Backtracking on his words already? Lani’s heart plummeted to her stomach.

“How so?” Greg asked.

Seaberg grinned. “Babysitting services, construction services—I have a lot of work that needs to be done around the house—and catering services.” His grin widened as he tossed this one directly Lani’s way.

“I’m sure we shall continue to be at your beck and call.” Humor lightened Greg’s sarcasm.

“The wife will be thrilled. Looks like you’ll be able to go home in a couple of hours, just ahead of the snow. Maybe you’ll get snowed in.” He winked at Lani.

“I’ll call you the second I see the first snowflake,” she replied.

He grinned. “I’d love to take you up on that one, but you have enough kids at the place without adding mine to the mix.”