“Hey, man. That’s enough,” I interject, twisting my body to face him. “She gave a firm opinion, you just didn’t like it, and I happen to agree with her.”
A snarl pulls at his lips. “You’re here as a courtesy to your boss. You have no sway here. Stand down, soldier.”
This jumped-up little prick needs a boot up his ass.
“We’ve got work to do.” Katie stands from her desk and grabs her purse, barging past the detective. Her shoulders are up by her ears, theanger rolling off her in waves. The clip of her heels is a soundtrack of fuck-yous and get-the-hell-out-of-my-ways. She turns her head, her eyes narrowing in on mine.
“Let’s go.”
???
We drive through the camp, and various activities are going on. There aren’t a lot of cars; most of the higher-ups travel around in four-wheelers, which are basically golf buggies. The lower-ranking soldiers run to and from each destination with the scream of a sergeant nipping at their heels. Teams tackle the assault course—a hundred or so men are on the parade practicing for an upcoming medal ceremony. It’s tiring and grueling to stand stark still for so long and often...oh, there we go. One of them has just face-planted on the floor. To the remaining soldiers, not one of them assisted their fallen comrade. Only stiffening their shoulders so they won’t face the humiliation of being the next pin to drop.
“Before we go in—”
“Nope,” Katie cuts me off. “I don’t want to talk about it. In fact, there is nothing to talk about.” Her shoulders are up to her ears, her back ramrod straight, as if she’s forcing herself to stay upright by clenching every muscle she has.
“Katie, we had sex,” I say softly, pulling into a space by my office building. Its cream walls are perfectly cleaned, the surrounding lawns landscaped with meticulous precision.
“I don’t remember that.”
“I can imagine your sleep-deprived brain has blocked out the past month. Just so you’re aware, I’m Jonesy, and we’re investigating a serial killer.”
“Shut up!” she snaps.
God, I’ve missed her. Three days felt longer than a year after finally having a taste of her.
I grin, holding my hands up in surrender. “I regretted what I said immediately.”
“Please don’t,” she whispers, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears. I need to make this right. She has to know how fucking sorry I am.
“I’m sorry and I—”
“Jonesy, please stop—”
“I’ve never been so sorry about anything. You trusted me, and I threw it back in your face—”
“JACOB!”
The cry of my name leaving her begging lips stops me in my tracks. There are tears welling in her exhausted eyes. But apologizing is the right thing to do. It has to be the right thing.
“I’m sorry.” I flinch as soon as the words come out of my mouth, and she gives me a death glare that makes my balls shrivel.
“It’s done. Let’s forget about it.” She steps out of the car, and I follow suit. As we walk along the path to my office, we’re quiet, Katie holding herchin high as the clip of her heels fills the silence between us.
???
“Thank you for joining us. I take it you’re Disney?”
The soldier sits in his chair, shoulders pushed back, a stern expression on his face. “Yes, ma’am.” His Southern drawl is prominent. “Tyler Walters is my real name, but everyone around here calls me that.”
Katie smiles. She’s back in her full professional mode, and it’s somewhat of a relief not to be concerned that the man sitting across from us is going to reach out and hurt her. My office is a safe space, unlike the prison where we interviewed Connor Maddox.
Disney is the last of the five friends who were also at Skallywags the night of the murder. We have a few more soldiers on our list to interview, but they’re not part of Maddox’s immediate friend group.
“I don’t want to waste your time, Private. Can we get to the point of our interview?”
She’s asked this with most of them, a way to show that she respects them and their time. It also breaks the ice. I watch quietly as Disney’s eyes are fixed on hers. He sits tall on thecouch, not letting his posture slip for a second. Usually, it’s a place soldiers can come to relax. It’s one of the few office buildings on the base that have been decorated this decade. Something about the mustard color walls of the rest of the camp doesn’t really scream at soldiers to relax and talk about their feelings. So the soft cream walls I’d painted one weekend after getting permission from the higher-ups are a welcome reprieve. There are also a lot of plants, which, I’ll be honest, I’ve neglected since this case started.
