up a hint of resentment in the lieutenant’s voice. It was no secret that Preston had done basic K-9 training as well but had yet to be paired with a canine partner. Did he resent that Chase had been partnered first? He hadn’t thought so. He’d have expected a man like Preston to be focused on getting a fierce and dangerous animal, who specialized in something like suspect apprehension, rather than a sweet little search dog like Queenie.
“Yes, sir, I did request a transfer to the K-9 unit,” Chase said. “Though, as I’m sure you know, completion of my training with the team is currently on hold until this mix-up can be resolved. I have the utmost respect for what the dogs in the unit and their trainers do to serve our great country. I hope the missing dogs are found soon.”
“I spoke to your old boss, Captain Reardon,” Preston said, “and she described you as a quiet man who kept to himself.”
Chase didn’t answer. He hadn’t been asked a question and didn’t like Preston’s insinuation that being private and quiet was somehow a crime.
“Why did you request a transfer?” Justin’s voice snapped his attention to the doorway. Chase blinked. He couldn’t remember the lead investigator asking any other questions since the interrogation had started. “Your previous career was security, correct? You guarded missiles, weapons transfers and installations in Afghanistan?”
“And personnel, yes, sir,” Chase said. “I requested a transfer because as fulfilling as it was to be overseas, serving my country on the front line, I couldn’t neglect my duty to my own daughter. Seeing the difference we were making in the lives of Afghan children made me miss my own. I figured my daughter deserved better in life than a daddy who she knew only through a video-chat screen, sir.”
Justin’s eyebrows rose. His mouth opened, like he was about to ask a follow-up question, and Chase suddenly remembered that Justin himself was the single father of a teenaged daughter.
The sound of another picture smacking the table yanked Chase’s attention back to Preston. He looked down and his heart ached. It was Maisy’s father, Chief Master Sergeant Clint Lockwood, lying on the floor in a navy blue PT uniform. A red rose was tucked under his arm. A dark pool of blood stained his crisp white shirt.
Maisy thinks I had something to do with this? Anger and sadness crashed over Chase like competing waves battling on the shore. The look of disbelief and doubt in her eyes when she’d looked at the gold cross was seared in his mind. It reminded him all too much of the look of defeat that had greeted him when he’d answered the overseas video call from his then pregnant wife, telling him that she’d given up on their marriage and fallen in love with another man who was “emotionally available” for her in a way Chase could never be. Liz had filed for divorce almost immediately. Thankfully a DNA test after Allie was born had proven she was Chase’s little girl. Even before Allie was born, Liz had decided to restart her life without them.
“Chief Master Sergeant Lockwood was my basic training officer,” Chase said, quickly, snapping his errant mind back to attention and filling in the information before Preston could try to hit him with another question. “It’s well-known by everyone who trained under him how tough he could be. He didn’t give me a rougher time than anybody else, and I certainly didn’t hold a grudge.”
Before Preston could speak, Justin asked another question. “What’s your relationship like with his daughter, Maisy Lockwood?”
“Much the same as I imagine Lieutenant Flannigan’s is, sir,” Chase said. “Polite and courteous, but not personal. My daughter is in her preschool, as his son is.”
Was it Chase’s imagination or did irritation flicker in Preston’s eyes?
“Then why were you holding a picture of her when you were arrested?” Preston snapped.
“I’ve already answered that question. There was a prowler outside my daughter’s window. I went outside to investigate and found the picture in the dirt. They cut the screen on Allie’s bedroom window, pulled the picture from her dresser and ripped my daughter’s face from the frame. My baby daughter’s picture is now in this person’s hands.”
He fought the urge to drop his head into his hands. Instead, his eyes rose to the ceiling as he prayed. Did they believe he’d cut the screen and scuffed the ground himself to cover his tracks in case someone saw Boyd near his home and called the police? Didn’t they get how ridiculous that would be?
“My name was used by someone visiting the Red Rose Killer in prison,” he added. “My truck was broken into. I was robbed. My home was invaded by someone who planted evidence under my floorboards. My daughter is in danger. I need to protect her. What you should be investigating is who is so intent on framing me.”
A quick, curt knock sounded on the door, interrupting wherever Justin was going with his next question. Justin excused himself and slipped out into the hallway.
“I don’t care what sack of lies you try to sell, I know you’re helping Boyd Sullivan,” Preston said. His lip curled. “A few scuffed footprints in the dirt and a hole in a window screen doesn’t prove anything. You’ve been sneaking him on and off base. You helped him kill these people and I will prove it.”
Chase felt his jaw clench. How could anyone possibly think he’d allow a man like Boyd in his home or near his daughter? He held his tongue and stared straight ahead as if Preston was nothing but a window and he was looking through him. Still, he couldn’t miss the dangerous glint in the lieutenant’s eyes. A lifetime in the Security Forces had taught him to spot a hostile element.
The door handle began to turn and Preston leaned forward so suddenly the table lurched.
“You better stay far away from Maisy Lockwood,” he hissed. “Take your little brat out of her school and never bother her again. Or I will make sure you pay.”
The lead investigator walked back into the room, giving Chase barely a moment to process Preston’s words before rising to his feet and saluting. Preston rose as well.
Justin’s eyes scanned their faces. “Everything all right, men?”
“Yes, sir,” Preston said.
Chase did his best to keep his face impassive. Preston’s determination to nail him was immaterial. Chase knew he was innocent.
As if he read Chase’s thoughts, Justin turned to him. “You’re free to go.”
So he wasn’t being charged? Did that mean they didn’t have enough evidence? Or did they think that if they let him go and trailed him, he’d eventually lead them to the Red Rose Killer?
“You are not being charged with any crime at the moment,” Justin went on, his face so steady he might as well have been carved out of marble. “We may wish you to come in for future questioning and appreciate your continued voluntary cooperation with our investigation. JAG can inform you of your legal rights going forward, including your right to cease cooperation and retain legal counsel. Don’t leave base without letting my office know. I believe the team has finished processing your home as well. You can collect your cell phone later this afternoon.”
“Thank you, sir.” Chase saluted sharply.
The other man returned the salute, and Chase was escorted from the building.
