ICE PRINCESS, page 11
Allison’s emotions were held in by a strength of will that broke Claudia’s heart. All Claudia knew of the man were the few words he uttered before he died. Yet the more she discovered, the more she wanted to bawl her eyes out.
She slipped her hand over Allison’s. It was small, dainty, fragile. When she squeezed it, Allison grabbed hold. A lifeline? A cry for help? She couldn’t ask, couldn’t force the issue now, but with time maybe she could.
"Let’s go to the funeral together. It’s at one o’clock Friday afternoon." She pressed Allison’s hand in parting comfort. "He’s helped so many of us."
For the first time, fear clouded Allison’s eyes. Then she nodded. "Pink roses. We mustn’t forget the pink roses…for Julieanne. You do know about Julieanne, don’t you?"
Claudia forced a smile. She felt like a fraud. "Don’t all of us who have been in that situation? Yes, Teddy would like that we remembered. He loved his sister so much."
"Very much," Allison choked out. "We’ll have to buy them soon. Before the florists in town run out."
"I’ll take care of it for both of us."
Gratitude eased the tension in Allison’s face, the sound of a car in the garage brought it back. She leaped from the table so quickly her cup toppled over.
"Marty’s home early."
Claudia grabbed her hand and pulled her back into her seat. "Relax. We’re just two new friends visiting."
"But I haven’t started dinner…the carpet."
"I’ll fix the carpet. You’ve been invited to my house for dinner."
"No. No. He won’t accept."
"But you don’t know that."
"Yes, I do. And he knows I know. Please…just go. I’ll see you in the morning."
There was little more Claudia could do. Reluctantly, she eased away. "I’ll fix the carpet for you on the way out."
Heartbreaking. That was the only word for it, and it was all Claudia could do to keep from physically dragging Allison home with her. A whirlwind of emotions surrounded her. She was angry at herself because there was no way to help the woman, confused that Allison continued to live in terror year after year. But nothing matched her fury at Martin for abusing her and the Marine Corps for elevating him to a god-like position of authority.
Claudia slammed through the back entrance of her house, ready to pummel the first object she could get her hands on. Grabbing a head of lettuce from the refrigerator, she smacked it on the counter and whipped out a butcher knife.
Years of experience with women, this one in particular, indicated to Zach that he should tread carefully. Unfortunately, Vic didn’t have that much sense. While Zach lounged in the doorway watching Claudia hack the lettuce into bite-sized pieces, Vic eased his way to within inches of her.
"Well? What did you find out?"
She whacked at her target. "Julieanne is Teddy’s sister. Allison admitted to knowing Teddy. We are going to the funeral together."
"Did she tell you that her husband beats her?"
She tossed the knife into the sink and whirled around to face him, pale with rage. "You insensitive son of a bitch. You’d better go back to life school and do a little more studying. This is a secret even her own parents wouldn’t know, and you expect her to confide in me in less than a day? She’s a victim, not a murderer."
One stride forward brought her nose to nose with him. "But I don’t need her to tell me. I saw for myself the fear in her eyes when he came home today and she hadn’t started dinner and the carpet was unfluffed."
"Sinclair’s home?"
Claudia parked her hands at her waist. "Yes."
Vic muttered a curse. "How the hell am I going to leave here now? He can’t see me."
Claudia’s response equaled Vic’s. Zach didn’t blame her. The last person he cared to spend any more time with was Vic. Still, for the integrity of the investigation, there was little choice.
While Vic paced a circuit in the living room, Claudia mutilated the rest of the lettuce. Zach slid his hand over her wrist, gently relieving her of the weapon.
"Put the lettuce away for now. We could probably both do with a good run. You set the pace. I’ll do my best to keep up," he added with a small smile.
Five minutes later they were pounding the pavement in unison, taking out their frustrations and confusions in a desert ridge run that wound up being five miles.
But it wasn’t until well after midnight, once Vic finally slipped away under cover of the night, that the one question bothering them was broached.
"Do you still think Sinclair’s innocent?" Claudia traced the pattern in the arm of the sofa.
Zach stroked Miss Kitty’s fur, taking in the comfort her flexing paws and deep purr provided. "I honestly don’t know what to believe at this point. He’s a top notch Marine officer, yet everything you pointed out earlier today is true. We can’t know what they are both determined to hide."
"I keep straining to hear if anything is going on at their house."
He snorted. "In a neighborhood this close, you’d think someone would have heard long before now."
"Maybe they did and didn’t care to interfere because of his rank."
She had a point. Sinclair was the highest ranking officer in their base housing area. He could easily ruin anyone of lesser rank with a word or suggestion, a criticism whispered to the right person. Just like in the big cities where victims were raped and mugged while frightened witnesses looked the other way, Martin Sinclair got away with spousal abuse.
"Would you report him?"
"Yes." The answer was given without hesitation. His parents had raised respectable, honor-bound sons. He didn’t care what it did to his career. It was a matter of living with his own conscience…and Claudia’s opinion of him.
He set Miss Kitty on her feet, and leaned closer to Claudia. "Shopping with her tomorrow’s going to be tough for you."
"I can manage."
Zach chuckled. "I don’t doubt that for a minute. Just don’t do anything crazy…like try to whisk her away from it all. I don’t want to be scraping up your remains from the desert floor."
"I won’t be foolish. I’ve been in tighter situations than this before."
"Maybe so, but none more emotional."
He was right about that. Everywhere she turned, Claudia was assaulted by one emotion after another. Dealing with them drained her more than she thought possible.
She passed the night much as she had all the others since this mess had started—awake and troubled.
In the long hours, Claudia rehearsed subtle questions she intended to ask of Allison, made plans if they should be followed and harassed. By morning her nerves were so much on edge, not even a hard run or Zach’s sinful offer of breakfast could quell them.
Like a prisoner approaching a guillotine, Claudia marched to Allison’s house. She wanted to give the woman friendship and sanctuary, yet the very nature of their relationship was based on lies. Somehow that had to change. This was no longer about a news story. This was about saving someone’s life.
Claudia leaned into the doorbell and waited. It took a second ring to bring Allison to the door. She opened it only as far as the chain lock allowed. The room beyond was dark.
"I’m sorry, but I can’t make it today. I really don’t feel well." She shoved a piece of paper through the opening into Claudia’s hand. "Here are the directions to the boutique. You should be able to find something there."
Before Claudia could utter a word of concern, Allison shut the door. She stared at it for what seemed like hours before returning home. A myriad of questions danced in her head, all of which had to remain unanswered for now.
She found Zach upstairs peeking out the bedroom window.
"What was her excuse?" he asked.
"She says she’s sick."
"Hmm…I’ll bet. Look."
Claudia glanced in the direction indicated and saw a Hispanic man crossing the Sinclairs’ backyard. "Who’s that?"
"Major Cruz Montoya." He let the drape fall into place and cocked his head her way. "Now what do you think of our alleged victim?"
He didn’t stick around for her answer, which was just as well because at that point Claudia didn’t know who or what to believe anymore.
Chapter 9
* * *
Zach had to cut across six yards and two blocks before he caught up with Montoya. Zach didn’t bother to pass off his breathlessness with the excuse of being out for a run. It was time for answers.
Zach grabbed Montoya’s car door before the man could shut it, wedging himself in the opening. "Sir, I think it’s time we talked."
"Do you have a break in the investigation?"
"Not one I expected."
"Then perhaps you’d better run it through NCIS." He curled his fingers around the handle.
Zach refused to move. "I need to talk to you. I’d rather it be privately without witnesses for now. But if I have to, I’ll spit it out right here."
Montoya looked around. "I don’t see anyone. Spit it out."
"Very well, sir. Are you having an affair with Allison Sinclair?"
"She is a beautiful woman, isn’t she?" Montoya made a second attempt to pull the door closed.
Zach shoved hard with his hip, widening the gap between door and car. "I saw you leave her house a few minutes ago."
Anger flickered across the man’s face. "I thought I made it clear that Allison was not to be involved in your investigation. There’s no reason to stake out her house."
"I’m trying to uncover a murderer. All my clues lead to her, and now to you." He met Montoya’s narrowed glare directly. "And forbidding me to look out my windows isn’t within your authority. So tell me, sir…are you an accomplice or her next victim?"
"Aren’t you taking a chance in either event? Now stand away from the car, Captain. I have to get back to work." He gave another tug at the handle, harder this time.
Still, Zach held the door in place. "Is her husband knocking her around?"
It was a dangerous path to take, but Zach felt he was safe enough. Montoya’s silence was bought the instant he snuck out of the Sinclair house.
"Your job, Captain Taylor, is to investigate the murder of Gunnery Sergeant Sunline, not delve into the personal lives of Allison and Martin Sinclair."
"For some reason, Major Montoya, I get the feeling both events are related."
For the first time since Zach cornered him, Montoya broke eye contact. Staring at the range of low mountains behind the base, he tapped his index finger on the steering wheel. Zach held his breath, wondering what strategy he could use next if this last one failed. Finally, Montoya released his hold on the door.
"Get in. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee."
Bingo. Now, maybe, he’d get some definitive answers. Unfortunately, the coffee shop was also one of the most popular places on base for breakfast. Zach and Montoya tagged on to the end of a long line, then each had to endure a round of pleasantries when one acquaintance after another greeted them.
It was a place to see and be seen. Even the Commanding General had his hair cut in the barbershop next door. It wasn’t exactly the type of atmosphere for obtaining confidential information.
By the time they had their coffee, a corner booth was empty. Zach claimed the coveted seat, forcing Montoya to sit with his back to the door. Montoya nestled the Styrofoam cup between his hands, and locked his gaze with Zach’s.
"Colonel Sinclair was with me the night Sunline was killed. It was my job to keep him busy while Teddy got Allison away from here." His voice was a controlled whisper, barely carrying across the green formica tabletop.
"So you knew Sinclair was abusing her."
Montoya didn’t waste a nod. He merely stared. "I couldn’t believe it myself when Teddy told me. I didn’t want to believe it. But the proof was there once I looked. Once Teddy forced me to look. He asked for my help, and I gave it to him."
"Why not just report Sinclair to the general?"
"Spousal abuse is a dirty little secret. You’d be surprised at the lengths some women go to hide it. It’s almost like they can’t admit it to themselves much less someone else. Allison’s no different. She thought it was her fault. It took her a long time to admit to herself that she had to leave. Teddy was willing to help. This had to be on her terms. She asked for silence. We agreed."
And it looked like those terms had gotten her nowhere. "You seem to know a lot about the subject."
"Only because of Teddy. Each one of those women at his house is a victim saved from a life of domestic violence. He offered them sanctuary, escape. Tried to help them build confidence, self-esteem. Even invented jobs for them when they couldn’t find work elsewhere."
Zach only had one question. "Why?"
Montoya narrowed his eyes. "His sister was killed by her husband. Beaten to death while their two children slept in the next room."
How could anyone respond to such a revelation? The thought made Zach’s stomach churn. He had been raised in love and tolerance. A bad day for him meant whiny clients, forced marches, and pesky telephone solicitors.
Even when Claudia voiced her suspicions, he didn’t truly believe. Why? Because the entire concept of abuse was alien to him? Or because he couldn’t believe that the Marine Corps would harbor such an individual in such a high rank?
Zach sipped at his coffee. It went down sour and burned his stomach. He slid the cup aside.
"Now what happens to Allison?"
Montoya snorted. "What do you think happens? The poor woman is scared to death. She’s convinced that Sinclair somehow managed to kill Teddy and now she’s in fear for her own life."
"And her baby?"
The man’s back stiffened as he drew away. "How did you know about that?"
"Is it yours?"
"You little prick," Montoya spit out through clenched teeth. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"I’m an investigator…investigating."
"No, it’s not mine," he snapped. "Allison Sinclair is a lady. She has class and dignity. The baby is hers and Sinclair’s. Now how the hell did you find out?"
Zach hesitated. What did he have to lose at this point? "Agent Brownell and I found e-mail between her and Teddy stored on his computer."
Montoya covered his eyes with his hand. "I pray to God Sinclair doesn’t think to look through the e-mail on her computer."
"Do you think he killed Teddy?"
He slowly shook his head. "I’m telling you, Captain, there’s no way. He was with me. Teddy had a lot of friends, but helping those women made him a lot of enemies, too."
"Their husbands and boyfriends."
Montoya nodded, then pulled his head up. "I doubt you’d ever get any of the women to admit it. From what Teddy told me, most of them have come a long way, but to have them actually stand up to the men in their lives or turn them in for murder…well, that’s an awfully big step."
That would explain their silence when he and Vic were at Sunline’s house. "I think I may be able to get an in with Sunline’s group."
"It’s going to have to be a good one. Think of these women as survivors of war."
Zach smiled. "Trust me. They’ll be giving up their secrets before they realize it."
Montoya tipped back the rest of his coffee. "Now…let’s discuss Allison. Since you’ve discovered Sinclair’s abuse and the baby from your snooping, do you intend to do something to try to help her?"
"I’ve got an angle on that, too. I trust I can depend on your help in whatever we do?"
Montoya dark eyes never wavered. "As long as it means Allison will be safe."
* * *
Claudia worked out her frustration on a stair climber. From the looks Kurt-Kiki kept giving her, she must have been overly long on the machine. She didn’t care. Anything to keep her thoughts directed and away from what was bothering her. Trouble was—it wasn’t working very well.
Had she been pulled into Allison’s lies? Claudia prided herself on her ability to read people. She had made that part of her life survival packet since that horrible day when Todd left her standing alone at the altar. Never again would she be caught unaware.
So where had she gone wrong with Allison? Or had she? Were the signals of abuse there? Had she not wanted to see them? And if that were the case, then why?
The answer came too quickly for Claudia’s comfort. She saw her own obsessiveness in Allison’s actions, and was subconsciously determined to prove there was no correlation between them. Her conscience raised its head and struck.
And what compulsion are you fighting?
Claudia wanted to scream at herself, to throttle the thoughts that nagged incessantly at her. She decided to go to the gym, realizing that a hard workout was her solution—a compulsion in its own right. Before she could find the solitude of physical exercise, the first contingent of the Officers’ Wives Club arrived.
The four were a determined bunch. They were pleasant enough, but somewhat overbearing. They wriggled their way into the house scanning their surroundings with the sharp eyes of appraisers despite the smiles plastered on their faces. They commented upon the furniture, and the neatness of her home. Cooed over her few attempts at decorating. The only way Claudia could rid herself of them was to offer her place for a coffee that evening.
At last peace was hers. The stair climber beckoned. She had been on it ever since and was no closer to resolving her questions than when she began.
"Enough." In one firm yank, Kurt pulled the power cord from the wall. "You’ve been on that thing for over an hour. What are you trying to do to yourself?"
She wanted to cry, to crumble to the floor right here and weep. "I just lost track of time, that’s all."
"Hmm. I doubt that. I’ve never seen anyone more determined. To do what, I can’t say."
Claudia forced a smile. "I have to host a coffee this evening at my house for the Officers’ Wives Club. I could use a friendly face there. Do you suppose Kiki can come?"
"Nice change of subject." He smiled and lowered his voice. "Kiki would love to come. All those women putting on their best faces. What great practice. Do you think they’d suspect?"
