Chapter 11
They pulled onto the Marine base and headed toward the NCIS offices. Julian and Troy parked and waited for Trask, Blake and Gwen to join them. At medical’s insistence, Gwen was using a cane.
“I need you three to watch what Agent Boyle doesn’t say—and anyone else in the room. If you see, feel or hear something off, cough, clear your throat, sneeze.” Julian pulled open the heavy door. Troy shook off his melancholy and slipped into his role as investigator.
* * *
Agent Davidson Boyle,an obese bureaucrat, greeted the group with the warmth of a dead fish. Joining him was NCIS agent George Stacy. “I’m hoping I can help you folks, but I’m not sure I can,” Boyle said.Gwen noticed the twitch in his left eye, which made her sure the man remembered her.
Gwen chewed her cheek listening as Julian made introductions. As he and Troy sat, their micro body movements asserted command and control. Once everyone was seated, Troy began the interview.
George Stacy nodded at Gwen with recognition. She remembered the agent taking notes in her hospital room. He stared at her the same way he did then, making her feel like a fish in a bowl. She closed and reopened her eyes. A fleeting memory of a man cloaked from head to toe in black sitting for hours silently watching her surrounded her like a ghostly apparition. A fine sweat broke out on her brow.
“Lieutenant North?” Stacy handed Gwen a tissue. She accepted it with a shaking hand.
“Agent Boyle.” Troy reached into his briefcase. First, he tossed down releases of information forms signed by Jessie Brooks’ and James Richmond’s parents. Next, binding power of attorney forms. “Chase Security needs to assess the real files concerning the sexual assault and beatings of James Richmond and Jessie Brooks. We understand you’d be leery about working with an outside contractor.
“That needs to end right now. This cannot be about turf or your hurt feelings. You can cooperate with us, or I will have no problem going to the NCIS director and above as necessary.” A deadly glare flickered in Troy’s eyes. “And to delay cooperation makes me think the persons responsible are inside the command structure: NCIS, military police…am I getting close?” He frowned.
Boyle pinched his brow. The look on his face turned from arrogance to disdain.
“Agent Boyle, how many victims?” Julian asked.
Boyle’s phone rang. “Send him in.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a thick stack of files and pushed them toward Julian. “Number of victims? We can confirm eighteen going back two years. We are still looking.”
“You can confirm eighteen.” Troy emitted a low growl before he fired off questions like bullets. “You’re not sure? You’re still looking? This is a surprise? And are they only in California?”
Two years. How many are there really? Do my records exist?Gwen wiped more sweat away.
The door to the room opened. A tall, stocky man with thick black hair graying at the temples, cut high and tight, stepped into the room.
“This is Major William Cook. He has been working the cases from the beginning. Billy, this Julian Dupart, Troy Bremen, Trask Winslow, Blake Minor and …”
“Hello, Gwenny,” the major said.
“Hi, Will.” Her mouth went dry, and she purposely banged her injured calf into the leg of her chair, causing enough pain to hold on to her composure.
“You’re looking well. It’s been a while. What, 2013?” The major took the empty seat beside her, his hand glancing across her back as he sat.
Gwen startled. “Not long enough,” she whispered under her breath. She kept her injured calf wrapped around the chair leg, hoping the pain would stem the shakes she felt trying to take over her body. And to make matters worse, she noticed Troy adjust his position. The man never missed anything.
Julian didn’t either. His brow rose the second she was called “Gwenny.”
“Billy, I was just about to explain the situation to these Chase Security folks.” Boyle’s attempt to sound cooperative was a failure.
“Because NCIS and Military Police screwed the pooch,” Troy roared. Gwen chewed her lip.
“I resent that characterization,” William Cook spat.
“Do you have a better characterization, Will?” Troy growled.
If there was a chance Troy overlooked anything, the second he called him Will confirmed he hadn’t missed a thing. Gwen wondered if the intensity of Troy’s retort was meant to put William Cook in his place or to express anger at her for not warning him of the potential of Cook being there.Deep down, she knew it was both. She withheld valuable intelligence.
“You have confirmed eighteen victims. What’s the confusion?” Julian asked. “And how the hell have you sat on this through eighteen victims—or more—and clearly not done much about it?”
Gwen flinched hearing that level of anger in Julian’s voice.
“I resent that too. We didn’t sit on anything. Every crime is taken seriously,” Cook said, swiveling in his seat to stare at Troy.
