David’s attention whipped from his task. Water poured onto the table before he caught himself.
“Hell, I knew I didn’t like him.” Lister frowned at his empty cup while striding to the desk and the carafe. “But that’s not a crime either.”
“Now if he was selling used cars…” the Air Force Colonel joked.
David waited until Sally showed him the picture. “I know that man.”
“You should.” The lieutenant spun the tablet around in her hands, switching screens. “You flagged him as a prime suspect in a double homicide.”
“Fucking bastard.” David swore as Sally showed everyone the crime scene pictures.
Lister choked on his coffee. He wiped a drop off his lip and grinned. “Hot damn! Now that we can shoot him for.”
Yes, they could. Mavis smiled. “But we need to try him first. He’ll pretend to be a Holy man to his last breath and the evidence can damn the military if he spins it right.”
And he would. This predator was very cunning.
“My last JAG lawyer died yesterday.” The Air Force Colonel shook his head.
That might not be a bad thing. Mavis took another sip of her coffee. Gah! It didn’t improve by cooling off. She returned it to the desk. “Hopefully, there’ll be one among the civilians.”
An incompetent bumbling boob who was interested in justice more than the letter of the law.
“Sally can you search for one?”
The lieutenant stared at her screen and bit her bottom lip.
Why did the woman persist in looking at the pictures if they disturbed her so much?
“Lieutenant Rogers!” General Lister barked.
Sally started. “Sorry, Sir. We have a bit of a problem.” The lieutenant cleared her throat. “When I noticed the names on the wall, I realized that you were trying to figure out who was on those four trucks.”
Mavis’s stomach clenched. The coffee she swallowed threatened to repeat. “Trent Powers is over there with Sunnie, isn’t he?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Lister exchanged a look with David.
Mavis caught the warning and the worry. Ah, she’d been right. “Let’s get one thing clear.”
The officer’s swiveled their heads, giving her their undivided attention.
“Sunnie is my main concern, but not yours.”
David opened his mouth to speak.
She raised a hand to quiet him. “I know we have people over there. I know that the Sergeant-Major’s men will die to protect my niece. If they should fail…” Pain banded her chest and she struggled to drag in a breath. “I give you my word, that come Hell or more high water,” she gestured to the swollen river less than half a mile away, “I’ll guide everyone through the fun and excitement of surviving in a mine.”
She owed David that.
She owed Lister and the rest that promise. The military could have taken over at any time, and they hadn’t.
Lister stroked his chin. Silent communication passed between the officers.
She felt the weight of her promise and their judgment press down on her. Words in her defense bubbled through her. She clamped her lips together. The foundation of trust had to be laid on solid bedrock. They didn’t know it, but life in the mines would be where the real treachery began.
This was the easy part.
Lister looked at David, jerking his head in her direction.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “So if your niece dies, you’re going to abandon her body in a shallow grave and go live a long happy life with us?”
She flinched at the harsh words, knowing they were part of the test. “I don’t know about the happy part, but, yes, I’ll die in Colorado.”
Color washed up David’s cheeks.
Mavis offered him no comfort. Grief over losing her husband and son within months of each other had turned her into a raving bitch. She’d probably drive him away, if her words about his divided loyalties didn’t shatter their fragile relationship. Her attention skittered away from his and focused on Lister. “Any more questions?”
“Nope.” The general held out his hand. “Welcome to the survivor’s club, Doc.”
She slid her hand into his, felt the large callus on his trigger finger. “Now let’s bag some rabid wolves. Sally, is there a Dirk Benedict on those trucks?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The Lieutenant flashed the obese man’s picture at them.
Mavis wrote Trent and Dirk’s name on the board, far away from Sunnie’s. “What is his occupation?”
The lieutenant frowned down at her tablet. “He was a mechanic until an accident put him on workman’s comp.”
“Son of a bitch!” Lister crumpled his empty coffee. “That’s our saboteur.”
Ah, they’re finally going to let her in on the big secret. “What did he sabotage?”
After a nod from Lister, David filled her in. “The brake lines of one of the trucks.”
Mavis set her hand over her chest, writing on her chin with the marker. “Is anyone injured?”
Lister’s eyes narrowed.
She glared at him. She promised to help them, not to stop worrying about her niece.
“They were able to stop using the bumper of Sunnie’s truck. No injuries reported.” David held up his hands. “Sunnie called after it happened and she never said she was hurt, did she?”
“No.” But the medic might have told her not to. Damn, she hated knowing they lied to her. “Any more sabotage?”
“Robertson’s truck suffered two flat tires. He conveniently ran over boards with nails.” David held up two fingers. “Two, only on the passenger’s side and all but one of the comms have dead batteries.”
“Let me guess, the two damaged trucks were the last in the convoy.” Separating the civilians from the military would make it easier to take control. “Were the people rearranged?”
“Yes and yes.”
Very clever. She chewed on the marker’s cap. “Sally, bring up the photos of all the men between forty and fifty on those trucks.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“What are you thinking, Doc?”
The same thing the bastard was, she hoped. “Trent would want more than one henchman and I snapped four men at the funeral that had Dirk’s thumbs up. What do you want to bet, they’re together?”
“I don’t like to lose.” Using his teeth, Lister ripped open the plastic encasing his fork.
“It’s ready, Ma’am.” Sally handed her the tablet.
After handing off her pen, Mavis flicked the pages, one after the other. Ten men. Twelve. Frustration shredded her insides. Come on. They had to be here. Lucky number thirteen. Hooked nose and beady, close-set eyes. “Gary Everett.” His occupation surprised her. One would think Trent would pick his friends more closely. “Ex-con. Drug dealing.” She smiled as she scanned Gary’s rap sheet. “And a piece of good news, he’s ratted out cronies before.”
Lister shook a speared sausage at her. “So we have a wedge.”
That better not be her sausage breakfast.
David set an MRE by her cold coffee and opened her wheat bread.
With her free hand, she dipped the corner into the gravy and tossed it into her mouth. Her finger left streak marks across the screen. Numbers fourteen and fifteen showed two brothers from Alabama caught in Phoenix during the Redaction. They’d have an axe to grind for keeping them from their loved ones. “Add Ernest and Robert E Pyle. Both are long haul truckers.”
She watched David’s face, saw his eyes widen when the implication sunk in. “My men will be on guard once they realize they’re cut off from the platoon.”
If they have time to realize it. Trent may not want to wait to replace the soldiers with his new chauffeurs.
She flicked through more pictures. Come on. Where was the last? Two flew by and she back-tracked. A man in a suit stared back at her. Thin lipped, flat black eyes and crooked nose. Black chest hair carried a gold crucifix above the first button of his white dress shirt and loose tie. “Jake Turner.”