SIX
Jessie fidgeted in her seat as Bran pulled up to the main gate of US Army Fort Carson. The base was the home of the Fourth Infantry Division, among various and sundry other units including the Tenth Special Forces Group. Bran flashed his retired military ID, and the solider at the gate looked for his name on the admissions list.
“You phoned ahead,” Jessie said to him.
Bran just shrugged the muscled shoulders that were now imprinted in her brain. “10th Special Forces is here. I know some people. I called a few I thought might be able to help us.”
“I should have figured,” she said. She had called and set up meetings at the ME’s office as well as her father’s military counsel. Apparently, Bran had made a few calls of his own.
“I see here you’ll be checking a weapon,” the soldier said.
“That’s correct.” It was illegal for anyone to carry on base.
“Drive straight to the armory. Do you know where that is?” The guard was short and stocky, in combat boots and military fatigues.
“I’ve got someone here who knows her way around,” Bran said, tipping his head toward Jessie.
But it had been years since she had lived on the base. She’d come back to Colorado Springs for her father’s funeral, then returned to Fort Carson a month ago when she’d started her investigation. At the time, she’d hit nothing but a string of dead ends. Back in Denver, she’d kept working the case, making phone calls out of her apartment, digging up facts on the internet. Now she was back at the base.
The guard waved Bran through and, following Jessie’s directions, he drove the SUV down O’Connell Boulevard.
They made a quick stop at the armory, where Bran left his unloaded Glock, then climbed back into the vehicle. He was wearing a dark brown tweed blazer with his jeans and Henley. He looked good. Sexual awareness trickled through her, making her stomach flutter. Too damned good.
“I trained at Fort Bragg,” he said as the big SUV rolled down the road. “Never made it to Fort Carson.” He glanced at the soldiers marching on the parade ground as they drove past. “Looks like a good place to be stationed.”
Jessie shrugged. “Good as any. The population is around fourteen thousand, a town in itself. The scenery is better than most, the weather’s good, and there are lots of outdoor activities.”
The landscape was mostly flat and arid, but the area around the base was ringed by rolling hills covered with juniper and sage. Snow-topped mountains rose in the distance not far away. The end of October temperatures remained in the low sixties, but at night it dipped into the thirties.
Jessie directed Bran to the Army Community Hospital, where the medical examiner’s office was located. He parked in the lot and they walked into a three-story tan building, part of the base medical complex. Jessie had never met the doctor who had done her father’s autopsy. She had spoken to him on the phone, but had gotten mostly a recitation of what had been in the report.
Bran held the door open for her, and they walked up to the front desk, where he spoke to the female soldier behind the counter.
“Captain Brandon Garrett, First Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, retired. This is Jessica Kegan, Colonel James Kegan’s daughter. We have an appointment with Dr. Matthew Dillon.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll let him know you’re here.” The woman, a slender blonde in a perfectly tailored dark blue uniform jacket and skirt, headed down the hall. A few minutes later she returned. “Dr. Dillon will see you now.”
Jessie followed the woman, Bran walking behind her, into an office with a window looking out on low rolling hills. The doctor rose from behind his desk to greet them. Dillon was a slim, fine-boned man, early fifties, with sandy brown hair.
“Captain,” the doctor said to Bran.
“Retired,” Bran reminded him. “It’s just Brandon now.” The men shook hands, and the doctor turned to Jessie.
“Ms. Kegan, it’s nice to put a face with the voice on the phone. I’m sorry the circumstances aren’t better. Let me start by saying I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“Have a seat,” the doctor said, gesturing to the visitor chairs opposite his desk.
For the next few minutes, they discussed the autopsy that had been performed on her father, which led to her theory that he had been murdered.
“You read the report, Ms. Kegan,” Dr. Dillon said. “Your father complained of nausea and stomach pains and was taken to the infirmary. Less than an hour later, he suffered a massive heart attack and died. There was no sign of anything other than acute myocardial infarction. I’m sorry. I realize, under the circumstances, this has been a very troubling time for you, but you need to deal with the facts.”
“Did the autopsy show what caused the stomach pain?” Bran asked.
“The nausea started after lunch. It was assumed to be a digestive problem or an intestinal virus, but it turned out to be a symptom of his impending heart attack. Unfortunately, by the time he was discovered in his room, it was too late to revive him.”
A sound of pain slipped from her throat as Jessie imagined her father dying alone. She steeled herself. She had known this wouldn’t be easy.
