Silent Witness (28 page)

“I'm going, too!” Ellen said, racing around the table after grabbing her purse.

“No,” Cochrane growled, holding up his hand. “Stay here, Ellen.”

“Why?” she demanded breathlessly. She wasn't about to be left behind.

“This isn't like a cold crime scene,” he warned her in a low voice. “There's blood—”

“Count on it,” the petty officer said. Moving into the
passageway, he called urgently, “Let's mount up, sir. You're needed right now.”

Ellen dashed around Cochrane and ran after him. “I'm going!”

After Cochrane locked the room behind them, he caught up to Ellen. They raced to the awaiting Shore Patrol vehicle, its light bar flashing.

“Ellen,” Cochrane rasped as he leaped into the rear seat, “when we get to the scene, don't come in until I tell you to.” He knew she'd reel from seeing fresh blood spilled. Not that he enjoyed it either, but he'd seen enough to protect himself emotionally from such a crime scene. Ellen didn't have the experience, and it wasn't something she needed right now on top of today's stressful events.

“Okay…”

Cochrane pulled her in so that she sat close to him. The door was slammed shut and the vehicle lurched forward, the siren wailing.

Biting down on his lower lip, Cochrane listened intently to the numerous radio calls flooding the vehicle.

Ellen looked anxious. “Seems like life as a legal officer is never dull. First Susan's death and now this.”

“Reckon so,” he said grimly. “We could all do with a little less excitement in our lives….”

“No kidding.” Ellen held on as the vehicle screeched down another street.

“It's just the way the cards have been dealt.” Cochrane shook his head and stared out the window. He was
unsure why Ellen insisted upon coming, and rationalized that it was because she wanted to prove herself as part of their team. Cochrane saw four ambulances in front of the Officers Club. Shore Patrol was there in force, directing traffic. A number of officers, both men and women, were standing back while gurneys were hurriedly wheeled into the building.

The instant the vehicle braked to a halt, Cochrane flew out of it, jogging toward the entrance. Ellen hurried after him, dodging and ducking between the tight knots of people staring disbelievingly toward the doors to the O Club.

Gasping, Ellen halted just inside the establishment. She had already decided to go in, but now fear rose in her throat, almost choking off her air. She saw Jim's face go pale as he stepped into the bar area. The deck was littered with debris. Slivers of wood and shattered glass from the mirrors crunched underfoot. Eyes widening, Ellen scanned the place. Bullet holes riddled the mirrors and bulkheads. There were broken bottles everywhere.

The odor of alcohol mingled with a sweetish stench made her stomach lurch threateningly. It was the smell of blood.

A number of paramedics and ambulance attendants worked frantically at one end of the bar. Shouts and orders filled the air. Ellen grabbed hold of Jim's arm as he headed in that direction. The air reeked with the smell of gunfire, adding to the blood and alcohol. Hold
ing her hand across her nose and mouth, Ellen kept up with difficulty. As they grew closer to the knot of paramedics who were working over a victim, she gave a cry.

“Hodges!”

Cochrane halted abruptly. He threw out his hand and stumbled to a stop.

Ellen gave a strangled sound of surprise. Hodges lay on the floor, his summer white uniform splattered with blood, especially across his chest. Ellen turned away, gagging. She pressed her hand to her mouth as she moved drunkenly back toward the entrance. Her senses spun. Shock coursed through her. He had just returned from TDY. Why was Hodges here? Had he stopped in for a bite to eat before going home? Or maybe he'd already been home, checked on the photos and come back to the station? Ellen didn't know. Staggering, she threw out her hand to try and find something to brace herself against.

“Come on,” Cochrane said, sliding his arm around her waist and hauling her up against him. “I told you to stay the hell out of here.”

Fresh air flowing through the open doors had never smelled so good to Ellen as Jim guided her to a chair just inside the lobby. He forced her to sit down.

“Stay here!” he ordered.

Choking, Ellen nodded. Jim's features were hard and expressionless. She watched him as he quickly left to investigate the crime scene. The lonely wails of si
rens mingled with the voices of ambulance staff and frantic paramedics. Bile stung her mouth, and Ellen pressed both hands against her throat as a gurney bearing Hodges's lifeless form was wheeled out of the building. Her mind spun with questions. Who had shot him? Had it been Brad or Tommy Kane?

She pressed her hand to her forehead as she watched a number of waitresses holding back tears of shock. The manager of the club stood beside them, a look of horror on his aging features.

A second and third gurney eventually came out of the club. Ellen diverted her gaze, not wanting to see who else had been shot. She felt weak in the knees and didn't want to move. And yet her attention was riveted by all the activity. Several light gray unmarked cars pulled up, and officers in tan uniforms hurried in, their faces sober and serious.

Eventually, Ellen gathered her strength and forced herself up to her feet once again. She staggered unsteadily down the short passageway off the lobby, hoping to find a ladies' room and splash some cold water on her face. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling suddenly chilled in the air-conditioned club. Nausea rolled through her. Senses spinning, she halted and leaned against a wall for a moment. Where was the restroom? She had to find one.

Taking a shaky breath, she moved deeper into the club. There was an opening on her left. A young Shore Patrolman stepped into the doorway and held up a hand for Ellen to halt. “I'm sorry, ma'am. You can't go any
farther. This area is off-limits except for authorized investigation personnel.”

Ellen stopped, glanced past the young man into the room, and gasped. Commander Brad Kane sat on a sofa, his head buried in his hands. He was flanked by a stern-faced Navy Shore Patrol chief who carried a sidearm on his hip. Brad slowly raised his chin and gazed toward where she stood.

Ellen saw the wild look in his eyes. It wasn't the gaze of a brave pilot who faced death from the cockpit of a high-speed death machine, but that of a person who had seen death's ugly face up close and personal. Brad's left trouser leg was stained dark red with congealing blood. Questions tunneled through Ellen's mind. Had Brad killed Hodges? Was that why the chief was standing next to him with a pistol?

Spinning away, Ellen started back down the passageway to look for Jim. The pleading look in Brad's eyes tore at her. She couldn't handle any more trauma. Where was Cochrane? As she wove unsteadily down the carpeted expanse, she saw him appear at the end of the hall. Relief showered through her.

When Cochrane saw her, his masklike features thawed briefly. “Come away from there, gal,” he said, placing his hand on her elbow when he reached her.

Ellen leaned against him, grateful to feel his arm go around her shoulders, steadying her. “I saw Brad Kane down there,” she said as she buried her face against Jim's shirt. His arm tightened briefly.

“I know,” he rasped. “Come on, let's get you out of here.”

She forced herself to straighten. “Who shot Commander Hodges? Was it Brad?”

Cochrane wiped the sweat off his brow with his fingers. “Reckon it wasn't.”

“What?” Ellen jerked to a halt and stared up at him. “But I saw—”

“It was Lieutenant Michelson.” Cochrane settled his cap firmly on his head and then gently coaxed her to begin walking again. “What a hog wallow of a mess.”

“But—what about Brad Kane? What's he doing here, Jim? My God, his uniform is splattered with blood. He looks like he just walked through a slaughterhouse.”

“I know. It was all of matter of bad timing.”

“What do you mean?” Ellen demanded, her voice thin with strain.

“I just talked to an eyewitness that NCIS still has inside the club. He said that Hodges had just come off TDY. He'd gone straight from the flight to the O Club and looked up Bassett, who was having a beer there. Commander Brad Kane had just arrived in the bar area and had jerked Hodges around to face him, when Michelson suddenly appeared out of nowhere and pushed Kane aside.

“Michelson growled something about Hodges being a snitch and that he wasn't going to live to see his gold oak leaves. He accused Hodges of turning in the photo
from Ares to us. Michelson pulled out a 9 mm Beretta and started pumping shots into Hodges. He took three shots to the chest and died instantly.

“Bassett tried to get away, and took a slug to the chest as he threw himself across the bar to try and hide. Michelson then calmly placed a fresh magazine in the gun, held the barrel of it in his mouth and…” Cochrane stopped the story, but seeing she was all right, he continued. “Hodges fell dead at Brad Kane's feet. Kane wasn't wounded. He was just splattered with everyone else's blood.”

“Oh, God,” Ellen gasped.

Cochrane shook his head in disbelief and led her out the door and onto the lawn. “Reckon I can't believe it myself. What photo was he talking about? Hell's bells, the only photo we had of Susan was in our possession at all times. No one saw it. I can't figure this out.”

Ellen halted. Tears glimmered in her eyes as she turned and faced him. “Oh, Jim, I think I know what happened. Those teddy bear pictures you'd put out on the table, remember? They were with us in the interview room the day we spoke with Hodges? Michelson about lost it when he saw them. They were facedown so he couldn't see what was on them. He seemed mesmerized by them, so I put a red file over them. I thought he was going to grab them and flip them over, so I hid them.”

“I'll be damned,” Jim muttered, a scowl forming on his brow. Closing his eyes for a moment, he whispered,
“Michelson must have thought Hodges had brought in the pictures he'd shot of Susan.”

Blanching, Ellen reached out, her hand on his slumping shoulder. “Even worse, I told him they were evidence. And I—oh, no—I laid the Immunity envelope over them. I'll bet Michelson thought Hodges was not only turning the photos in, but taking immunity and turning him in to us. Oh no, Jim, what did we do?”

He sighed heavily. “I guess Michelson got nervous about our maneuvering with Hodges yesterday. He thought he was being betrayed by Hodges, and snapped. He couldn't take the shame it would bring on his family. Not to mention torpedo his father's Navy career along with his own. By taking his own life, he left his father's career safe and sound, as well as his family's honor intact.”

Cochrane shook his head. “The bartender witnessed the whole thing. Michelson told Hodges that he was going to pay for turning in his fellow officers, that he'd broken the code of silence. According to one of the paramedics who worked on him, Bassett is in critical condition but will probably live. Hodges and Michelson are DOA. I reckon the doctor will officially pronounce them dead at the dispensary.”

“How horrible,” Ellen choked out. “What about Brad Kane?”

“He's not being charged with anything.” Cochrane grimaced. “But the stain on his soul may be deeper than the blood on his uniform.” He let out a shaky
breath. “Talk about twists and turns.” Gazing down at her, Cochrane rested his hands on her shoulders. “How are you doing, gal?”

“Not very good. I'm in shock, Jim. How could all of this have happened? Did I cause it?” Ellen couldn't stand the thought.

Cochrane watched the chaotic activity at the O Club entrance and then devoted his attention to her. “Of course you didn't. Don't even go there. I told Captain Allison that my duties of investigating all four officers involved in the Susan Kane case would prevent me from objectively assisting him in this multiple death investigation. The captain will evaluate the information in regards to this tragedy.” Cochrane looked up as several officers gestured for him to come over. “He'll contact Dornier and it will be assigned to another JAG officer, not to us.”

Jim squeezed her shoulders gently. “I'll be right back, Ellen. I need to talk with Captain Allison. He's waving in my direction. It may take a while. Do you want to be driven back to Ops or wait here?”

“No. No, I'll wait, Jim.”

He allowed his hands to slip from her shoulders, and turned toward the awaiting officers.

 

T
HOUGH IT SEEMED LIKE
an eternity, it was only twenty minutes later when Jim rejoined her. Ellen had found a chair and sat down near the sidewalk. As he approached, she asked, “How did it go?”

“The captain wanted to know how I handled the investigation with Hodges and Michelson, and I told him what we think happened with those bear photos. We're not in any legal hot water over it.” He tried to smile but failed. “The captain said Susan was the only decent person in this whole mess and deserved not to have her name tarnished in any way by Hodges's or Michelson's deaths. We'll be going over to his office tomorrow morning to wrap up the official end of the Kane investigation with NCIS. Their PR spokesperson will put out a final media report that will protect Susan and hide this fiasco from civilian eyes. JAG and the CNO will know the whole truth about our investigation.”