he even have jurisdiction this far from post? As much as she didn’t want to answer any more questions, she didn’t have a choice. Placing the glass on the counter with a sigh, she then returned to the living room.
Reynolds and Inman had left the house, leaving the younger cop guarding the door and the army guy standing in the entryway. She extended her hand and walked to meet him. “Carolyn York. My friends call me Carrie.”
“Tyler Zimmerman. I’m a special agent with the Criminal Investigation Division at Fort Rickman. The CID is involved because the victim was military.”
His handshake was firm and confident.
“Fort Rickman is where my father was last stationed,” she stated in case he wasn’t aware of her father’s military past.
“Yes, ma’am. I understand you just arrived in Freemont.”
She nodded. “A little before five and in time to talk to my father’s lawyer briefly. Mr. Gates asked me to return to his office in the morning to discuss my father’s estate, but—” She spread her hands and looked out the window. “I’m not sure if everything will settle down by then.”
“I understand your concern, Ms. York.”
She tried to smile. “Carrie, please. Since we’re neighbors.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
Had she revealed too much? “The lawyer mentioned that someone from the CID was my father’s neighbor,” she quickly explained. “I put two and two together. You do live next door?”
“That’s correct.” He motioned toward the living room. “Shall we sit down? I know you’ve answered a lot of questions already, but I’d like to hear your take on what happened.”
She settled onto the couch while he pulled a straight-back chair close. Mr. Zimmerman seemed to be a man of few words with no interest in social niceties that could take the edge off the tension hovering in the air. She wouldn’t make another mistake by trying to be neighborly.
As much as she struggled to remain stoic, a picture of what she’d seen played through her mind again.
The gaping wound, the bloody ground—
She dropped her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, but I...I can’t get the image—”
“The man in the field?” the special agent filled in.
Pulling in a ragged breath, she glanced up and nodded. “The memory keeps flashing through my mind.”
“Which is understandable.” He hesitated a long moment, before asking, “What alerted you to go outside, ma’am?”
“It was Bailey.” The dog lay by the chair where she had sat earlier. Hearing his name, he trotted to her side.
“I had let him out a little before midnight,” she explained. “When he hadn’t returned, I must have fallen back to sleep.”
She rubbed the dog’s neck, finding comfort in his nearness. “At some point, Bailey started barking. I went outside to get him, thinking he’d found an animal.”
Mentally she retraced her steps, seeing again the mound that had turned into a man. “I never expected to find a dead body.”
“Did you see anyone else or hear anything?”
“Footsteps behind me when I ran back to the house. I locked the door and called 911.”
“After you made the call, did you hear or see anyone outside?”
“No, and I was too afraid to pull back the curtain. The only sounds were the sirens.”
“Could you describe what you saw when you discovered the victim?”
“Blood, a military uniform, boots. At first, I thought he might have tripped and fallen. When I saw his face, I...I knew he...he was dead.” Her hand touched her throat in the exact place the soldier’s had been cut. “The wound was—”
She dropped her hand into her lap and worried her fingers. “I can’t describe it.”
“But you saw no one the entire time you were outside the house.”
“That’s correct.”
“How did you learn of your father’s death, Ms. York?”
“George Gates called five days ago with the news. That’s when I learned Sergeant Major Harris was my father.”
The agent glanced up from his notes. “Sorry?”
“I thought my father had died soon after I was born.”
“Why did you think that?”
“My parents weren’t married. My mother evidently fabricated a version of what had happened.”
“She told you he had died?”
“That’s correct. In a covert black ops mission.”
The special agent narrowed his gaze. “And you believed her?”
Carrie bristled. “Don’t children usually believe their mothers?”
A swath of color reddened his cheek as if he were embarrassed by his lack of sensitivity. “So you grew up not knowing Sergeant Major Harris was your father?”
“My mother told me my father’s last name was Harrison, probably to keep me from learning the truth. I searched through military channels when I was in college, but the army disavowed having a record of a Jeffrey Harrison from Radcliff, Kentucky.” She glanced up at the tall ceiling and crown molding, thinking of the lie her mother had perpetuated for too many years. Lowering her gaze, she focused on the photo of a muscular man in uniform. The name tag on his chest read Harris. “Now I find out my father lived in Georgia.”
“What did your mother say after Mr. Gates notified you of the sergeant major’s death?”
“My mother died three years ago of a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.”
Carrie had grieved deeply for her mother, but she wasn’t sure how she felt now. After the phone call from Gates, she’d been numb and confused. Since then, the word betrayal had come to mind, although she knew her mother wasn’t totally to blame for the disinformation she had passed on to Carrie. Surely the sergeant major bore some of the guilt, as well.
She hugged her arms, suddenly cold and overcome with fatigue. Once again, the line of questioning seemed to have digressed off track.
“Mr. Zimmerman,” she said with a sigh. “I have no idea what is going on here. My father supposedly died from an accidental fall ten days ago. Finding another military man dead on his property tonight has me wondering if something suspect could be underfoot.”
The agent leaned in closer. “Like what?”
She shrugged.
