"Yes, ma'am. I'm Officer Pellegrino, and this is Officer Forrester. Detectives Paul Young and Daniel Logan asked us to escort you to the station to speak with them.”
Both men had flicked open the latch keeping their weapons in their holsters. Eager hands twitched.
“Gentlemen, what is this in reference to?" Martin stepped between them and Elizabeth.
"Who are you?" Forrester moved closer to Elizabeth.
"I'm Martin Bailey, Sergeant Austin Bailey's brother," Martin spoke, his voice taking an authoritative tone. Elizabeth cringed.
"Mr. Bailey, this is not about Sergeant Bailey. Please step back. Dr. Reed, you need to come with us." Forrester stepped between Martin and Elizabeth.
"I need my purse, phone, and keys." She turned to walk into her house. When Pellegrino placed a restricting hand on her upper arm, Elizabeth looked from his hand to his face. "I'm barefoot. At least let me have my shoes?"
"Officer Forrester will bring them to you," Pellegrino scowled.
"They're inside the door. Officers, why do the detectives want to speak with me?" She grew insistent.
"No one told us. Now, please come with us." She turned pale when she was unable to free her arm from the cop's grip.
Forrester, growing impatient, started to reach for handcuffs. "Dr. Reed, you need to come with us now."
"Elizabeth, go with them. Don't say a word. I'll meet you there with your stuff," Martin said.
Elizabeth's face transformed from anger to acceptance when Martin held her gaze and gave her a soft smile. "I'll go." Elizabeth walked with the officers to the car, turning her head to peer back at him, fear filling her eyes.
Forrester turned to lock up the house. "I'll secure the house." Martin waved him off. He wanted to give her home a once-over anyway.
After watching the car pull away, Martin called Julian. "Julian, SPD just detained Elizabeth Reed. Detectives Young and Logan think she's involved in something. Can you find out what's going on?"
"Sure, where are you?"
"Elizabeth's house." Martin heard the curiosity in the silence between them. "I'm heading to the station when I'm through. I promise we'll talk later." Martin ended the call. The request became personal the minute he called Julian by his given name.
Elizabeth's house was decorated in bright, airy colors and filled with natural light. A console table along one wall of a center hall held photographs of her with a tall blonde woman and an older, dark-haired woman in graduation robes. Photos of her in khaki trousers and an olive t-shirt with young children brought out a smile. Another was of her standing in front of a hospital bed speaking to an injured soldier. Absent were pictures of her parents.
The bay window overlooked a big back yard bordered with more flowers. Bird feeders swung from the lower-lying branches of an oak tree, and a bird fountain trickled water below. A pair of Adirondack chairs sat at a vantage point.
He mounted the polished, natural wood steps to find a luxurious master bedroom and attached bath. A vision of sharing the spacious soaking tub with her flashed in his mind until he scrubbed the image away.
The contents of her closet made him chuckle. Each pair of shoes was boxed and labeled, outfits organized by shade and purpose. The anomaly stood out: a gray metal box put away in haste. He placed it on the queen bed covered with a quilt his mother had made as a gift for Elizabeth's sixteenth birthday. His hand came up to his lips at the sight of the framed photograph on her night table—a candid shot taken of them the summer before he left. Standing on tip-toes with her arms around his neck, she smiled up at him. Love was the only word to describe his expression.
"Sunshine."
His mantra to never ask a question he didn’t want an answer to rang in his mind as his gaze fell upon a pink envelope addressed to Elizabeth on top of the nightstand. Inside was a picture of a tiny newborn with wispy blonde hair swaddled in pink.
He stared at the face of the teeny girl. He needed to find out what happened. The box contained the deed to a funeral plot for baby girl Reed and letters—their letters. He picked up the stack he never received yet were postmarked. She had written to him every day, just as she promised. He realized the extent of the interference when her tone turned desperate.
October 9, 1998
Marty,
I am getting worried. I asked Daddy to find out if you are okay. I called the base, and they told me recruits cannot receive calls unless it is a life and death emergency, and then they would go through the chaplain's office. Marty, I miss you. Daddy insists I go out with Lewis James. Please, Marty, I hope I hear from you soon.
Sunshine
The last letter ripped him apart.
Election Day, 1998
