Navy Justice (Whidbey Island, Book 5) (12 page)

Pushing the red button, she spoke slowly and clearly.

“General Grimes? This is Commander Joy Alexander. We worked together in Norfolk.”

“What can I do for you?” It was him. She’d recognize the surly tone anywhere, even through a cheap intercom system.

“I need to speak to—”

“It’s Senior Chief Petty Officer Iverson, General. We served together in—”

“I know who the hell you are. Come on up.”

As the gate swung open, Joy turned in her seat to face Brad.

“I thought you were keeping a low profile?”

“We’re out of range of the road. No one can see me. Do you think he’s going to call the police or the TV stations?” Brad’s eyes glinted in the light that cut through the tree canopy. Once again Joy felt the deepest longing for him—and regret that they hadn’t met at some other time. But doing right by Brad was more important than her unshakable need for him.

“No, of course not. Remember his disparaging remarks about the media when he was on the witness stand? I don’t know many officers who like the media, but his feelings toward reporters made me feel almost bad for them, even the obnoxious ones.”

Brad laughed. “Yeah, he isn’t one to mince words. Joy?”

“Yes?”

Did he want to kiss her again? Because she wanted to kiss him. She only had to lean in, twist a little more in her seat...

“Drive.”

* * *

T
HEY
WERE
STOPPED
within a few yards by a man in full camouflage gear with a rifle in his hands.

“Oh, my G—”

“Roll the back window down, Joy.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I know these guys. I’ve worked with them before.”

Of course. One of the guards. She hit the button with her left index finger.

“Ray, how you doing, man?”

“That you, Brad?”

Joy rolled her eyes as the men did a brothers-in-arms kind of greeting. She ignored the little twinge of envy at their natural understanding and camaraderie. She’d left that life behind, set sail on a different course.

She knew she’d made the right decision.

“We’re going up to see the general,” Brad said.

“No problem.” The guard’s deep brown eyes assessed her, and Joy offered him a smile. She’d lowered the front passenger window, too. She counted two other guards walking around the area, all suited up similarly to Roy.

“I’m Joy Alexander.”

Roy nodded. “Nice to meet you. Stay safe.”

“Will do.” She checked her rearview mirror to make sure Brad was done talking. His eyes met hers, and she was powerless against the attraction that unfurled deep within her.

“Won’t they tell your boss they saw you here?”

“Drive, Joy.” For the second time in five minutes she stopped thinking and trusted Brad’s direction.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
HE
FAMILIAR
TALL
,
lanky form of General Jeremiah Grimes, United States Marine Corps, Retired, stood at the bottom of a wraparound porch. He wore a bright, almost garish orange flannel shirt, and Joy wondered if he wasn’t hot in the September sun that slanted through the tall firs surrounding his A-frame. Even this early in the morning, the day was warming up.

“General.” Brad shook the bald man’s hand as Joy took her time walking around the front of her car. She wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Away from the energy these two men exuded.

What was it with General Grimes? She’d had to interview him before he took the stand in Farid’s trial. General Grimes was a straight arrow; his career record revealed nothing but a stellar history as an infantry officer who’d dedicated his life to his nation. He’d never mentioned a family. She only knew these facts about him from reading his official biography. When he’d testified in Farid’s trial he’d disclosed no more than he’d had to.

He’d been a pain in the ass to work with.

On paper, and even in person, General Grimes represented the best of the US Marine Corps. The epitome of a military careerist.

Yet he’d unnerved her with his tone, his air of patronizing tolerance. She’d thought he hated lawyers or women or both. She hadn’t cared; what she’d needed from him, she’d gained, and Farid had been freed.

After a while she’d realized Grimes treated everyone the same way.

His narrowed gaze landed on her, and she steeled herself to meet his eyes with the same cool expression. He didn’t corner the market on professional posturing.

“General Grimes.”

“You’re the JAG from Second Fleet in Norfolk, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Never figured I’d have to deal with you again.”

Tough
.

“No reason to think you would.”

“Actually, I’m the one who needs to talk to you, General,” Brad put in. “Commander Alexander has to leave for work.”

“It’s Ms. Alexander as of noon tomorrow. I’m on the last of my terminal leave, and I started my civilian job this week. And I think it’s a good idea for me to stick around for a while, until I need to report in.” She shot Brad what she hoped was a look he’d understand.

Shut up and let me be an extra set of ears for you
.

“Why don’t you both come in and grab a cup of coffee? We’re not going to solve anything standing out here.”

When Brad threw her a “what the hell are you doing?” frown behind the general’s back, Joy ignored him. He wasn’t the only one who could adapt to changing circumstances.

They climbed the steps and entered the cabin. Walking on the polished pine floor, Joy looked around, taking in the high ceiling and Marine Corps memorabilia dotted throughout the great room. A sword and scabbard hung in an X over the mantel of a giant fireplace, the holder emblazoned with the US Marine Corps’ symbol—the world encircled by a snake.

“You take it black?” The general’s question sounded more like an order, and Joy wasn’t about to refuse, GERD or not.

“Thank you.” She lifted the chipped mug with
Quantico
stamped on it to her lips. The coffee smelled strong and delicious.

Brad helped himself to the second mug, also well-worn, with a map of Okinawa, Japan, on it. Joy ignored the urge to smile. General Grimes had commanded thousands of Marines, led them through hell and back throughout his career, and had a respectable pension, plus any personal savings he’d squirreled away. Yet he used nostalgic cracked pottery, surrounding himself with the bits and pieces of the life he’d left behind.

“Thanks for letting us in, General. I really appreciate it.”

“Why wouldn’t I? From what the security detail tells me, you have a lot to do with my safety. It’s unbelievable, isn’t it? The bastards can’t keep the war on their own turf. They’re trying to bring it here.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, what can I do for you two?”

“Do you remember when we spoke after that first operational push in Afghanistan?” Brad leaned against the kitchen counter, as did the general. With their casual demeanor, they could’ve been discussing the Whidbey weather and not a mission that had changed the course of so many lives.

“Yeah.” The general took a sip.

“Can you remember any of the debrief—anything my teammates and I told you about what we experienced?”

“That was a long time ago.” Grimes set his mug down.

“We need to know whatever you remember, General.” Joy wondered if Grimes thought she was afraid of him. She wasn’t. He was simply a product of his training and came off as a tough guy. There had to be a real human being in there somewhere.

He awed her, to be truthful. Not that she’d ever admit it.

“We’ve already done this, right? During the trial in Norfolk?”

She shook her head. “No, this isn’t about Farid. He’s still free, in the Witness Security Program. Are you aware of anyone he would have known who’d still want to hurt you? Or Brad?” She gestured toward Brad, in case General Grimes only knew him as Chief Iverson.

The general nodded and took in a deep breath. “Have a seat.” He pointed to his kitchen table. Once they were seated, he looked each of them in the eye for several seconds.

“I was afraid it would come to this,” he said in a stage whisper. “If not with that campaign, then with another one. The world’s gotten smaller.”

It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. The general had a serious case of retired flag officer syndrome with these theatrics.

“Of course I know who’d want to get even with you. So do you, if you think about it.”

“Who is it, General?” Brad’s question was a demand. Spots of color lit up his cheeks, and Joy wondered if he was clenching his hands to keep from strangling Grimes. Why hadn’t he mentioned any of this during the trial?

“The one from Gitmo. The guy the two of you set loose. His village had a lot of angry men in it. They don’t see him as a hero—he’s a traitor to them. You have to remember that the Taliban brainwashes them to believe that we, the Americans and our allies, are to blame for all the death and destruction.”

“So you’re saying he’s indirectly responsible because the people from his former village are angry with him? Why would they come out here, though?”

“My guess is they want to get on the news somehow—maybe to let that one you got released see they’re still viable. It’s their way to ferret him out, if you ask me.”

Joy shuddered at the thought of Farid coming to harm after everything he’d already been through.

“You’ve done a lot of thinking about that case, General.” This remark earned her a glance from Grimes. Maybe he wasn’t such a Marine Machine.

“You have a boss at the Bureau, Iverson?”

“Yes, it’s Mike Rubio—former Navy Lieutenant Rubio.”

“Same guy who was lead on that SEAL team with you, right?”

“Yes, and my closest friend. We’re lucky to be working together again. What does he have to do with this?”

“You sure he hasn’t set you up? That maybe he wants you out of the picture?”

Shock hit her as General Grimes said the same thing she had. She looked over at Brad and saw the way he was staring at Grimes. He seemed as surprised as she was.

Brad shook his head before he responded.

“You know how ridiculous that is, General. You don’t like SEALs, fine, but Mike’s the best our country has. The best of the best. You saw that firsthand when we were downrange.”

Grimes took a swig of his joe. “Never hurts to turn over every rock.”

“Any other rocks you think we may be overlooking?” Joy ignored General’s pinched expression. As if she was irritating him.

“The explosion was all over the news this morning.” Grimes motioned with his hand toward the big-screen television that sat in the corner of the room. “It’s a punch to the gut to see that all our work, all the young men and women sacrificed—and the terrorists are still out there. Trying to come here.”

He leveled a stern glance at Joy and then focused on Brad. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep us all safe. I don’t have the same confidence in the Bureau you work for.”

At their stunned silence, he strode over to the table that held the TV and picked up the remote. Seconds later the room reverberated with the sound of a news anchor’s voice. A map of Whidbey Island was projected behind her, with a photo of a Growler jet superimposed on it.

“It’s believed that the explosion near Whidbey Island yesterday morning was set off by a former Naval Officer who’s suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Officials are not releasing the name of the suspect until he is safely in the custody of the US Government.”

Air
whooshed
out of Joy’s lungs, and she propped her elbows on Grimes’s table, proper military manners be damned.

Brad didn’t budge. He sat stone-faced with his fists resting on the table in front of him. As though he were ready to do battle with Godzilla.

Didn’t anything shake the man?

“I know it’s not unheard of for an agent to be used as a temporary scapegoat. I don’t have a problem with it if that’s what the mission calls for.” He said nothing else. Joy’s lawyerly opinion told her it was to protect Grimes, too.

“Looks to me like either your boss sold you out, or the authorities don’t want to alarm the public. By the way, how do I know it’s not you who blew up that boat?” Grimes fired off.

Joy mentally braced herself for whatever Brad said next.

“You don’t. And does it really matter at this point? I doubt you would’ve let us in the door if you thought I was playing on the wrong side. And you still haven’t answered the question, General. What was it about the mission four years ago that’s got someone after me?”

Grimes stared at Brad, and Joy admired the way Brad returned his stare with no hint of backing down. She also appreciated that Brad wasn’t giving Grimes any information he couldn’t glean from the news reports.

“Sounds to me like you got yourself in a world of hurt, son.”

Son?
From Grimes? To Brad, the Navy chief he’d treated like absolute dirt during the proceedings for Farid?

“Brad didn’t do anything wrong, sir. You know him. You worked with his team on a number of missions. We’re here to see if you recall anything that can help us get to the bottom of who’s really responsible for this plot against you, and possibly the Naval base.”

Joy was surprised at how steady her voice sounded, considering that her insides were quaking.

“I’ve worked with a lot of officers and troops over the past decade. Any one of them could be considered stellar. And just like that, any one of them could turn on a dime, too.” The general snapped his fingers in midair. The crack seemed loud in the silence left by the powered-off television.

“Brad’s not one of them.”

Brad sent her a look of sincere...annoyance.

“I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about your boss at the Bureau.” Grimes acted as if Joy wasn’t there. She could handle that, provided they got what they needed from Grimes.

“I’m with you on that, General. You can’t trust me any more than you can trust the next guy. That’s why we’re not staying long—just long enough to see what you remember about our debriefs. To see if there’s something we missed.”

“I told both of you everything I knew during the trial. But let me give you a quick refresher. Your team, Iverson, was assigned to secure the three villages on the western edge of the territory we were responsible for. Two of the three went like clockwork. The third village was problematic. We had civilian casualties as a result—all caused by the Taliban, but everyone blamed us. The terrorists who are after you now are probably related to the suspect you let out of jail. With the aid of my testimony in Norfolk.” He didn’t hide his disgust.

“General, I’d say you’re missing a few key points about the op. And the terrorists I’ve been monitoring are domestic.” Brad’s jaw was tight, and a vein throbbed on his forehead.

“What I remembered was enough to free a man you both believed to be innocent.” Was he still bitter over the fact that Joy had curtailed his desire to opine on the stand about how no Afghan villager who’d had any contact with the Taliban could ever be trusted? She’d respected the fact that he’d had to send in thousands of young men and women to face down the enemy, but she wasn’t going to allow prejudice of any kind in her courtroom.

Well, the US Military’s courtroom.

“Farid was innocent.” Brad spoke quietly yet with fierceness.

“Really? So where is he now?”

Joy spoke up. “Witness Protection.”

Brad answered simultaneously, their voices in unison. “You know that, General.”

Grimes shook his head, his thin lips curled in a frown full of derision. “Let’s play it my way. Pretend Farid wasn’t innocent. That he’s still connected to the terrorists. If you were him, and you were freed by the enemy and placed in a ‘safe’ community, aka Anywhere, USA, what would you do?”

“Farid
was
innocent, General,” Joy insisted. “A court of law declared him so.”

Brad flung her a “shut up” glance.

Anger made her skin prickle, and she wished she could kick his leg under the table. Or better yet, take her chipped coffee mug and throw it through the mirror that hung on the wall.

“There was no evidence to keep him incarcerated, Commander Alexander. That’s a far cry from being
innocent
.”

“I worked with him for over seven months, General. I know his character.” She’d met Farid’s family, too, and celebrated with them when he’d been freed. Brad had been there as well, and had worked as hard if not harder to free the man who’d been in the wrong place for all the right reasons.

Just like Brad yesterday.

She suddenly felt a germ of doubt. They couldn’t have been wrong, could they? Her case had been airtight once it went before the court.

“General, let me get your opinion straight out. The bad guys wanted me dead, and now Mike’s in cahoots with them?” Brad’s voice, incredulous verging on sarcastic, cut through the fear that was trying to grab hold of her logic.