in the training area when his wife had fallen to her death.
In shock and visibly grieving, Mason had been forthcoming about the evening he and Mrs. Yates had spent together. She had prepared a light meal, they had watched a favorite TV show, and soon thereafter, he had left, as he often did, for a nighttime jog. From the many photos displayed in the home, they appeared to have been a loving couple, but things weren’t always as they seemed.
Case in point, the attractive woman staring at Everett through the screen door. She appeared totally confused and upset. Had she seen or heard more than raised voices and thumps against the wall?
Although he had introduced himself earlier, he doubted the woman had focused on his name when she was worried about her neighbor. Again, he held up his badge. Following protocol was always good, especially tonight when a woman had died so tragically.
“Everett Kohl, Criminal Investigation Division. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
She pushed open the screen door. “Come in.”
The house was tidy and nicely furnished with a leather couch and two chairs covered in a flowered pattern.
A number of side tables held pretty knickknacks and photos of a baby. “Your child?”
She shook her head. “Sofia’s the daughter of Lieutenant Terrance Jones and his wife, Wanda. She’s also a lieutenant.”
“You’re visiting the Joneses?”
“I’m the nanny, at least for the next two weeks. Wanda’s TDY at Fort Hood.”
“What about her husband?”
“He’s deployed to Afghanistan.” She pointed him toward the living area. “Shall we sit down? I have a feeling this might take time.”
“Hopefully not too long.” He lowered himself onto the couch. The leather was cool to his touch. He drew a tablet and pen from the pocket of his jacket. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a few notes.”
“Of course.”
“Let’s start with your name.”
“Natalie Frazier. I’m prior military, served for six years and now live in Freemont.”
“Marital status?”
“I’m single.”
She seemed willing to provide information. A good sign. “You said you were caring for the Joneses’ daughter.”
“That’s right.”
“You work as a nanny?”
“I started this morning as a favor to Wanda. She’s taking an army training class at Fort Hood that begins in a few days and didn’t have anyone to care for her child. I’m finishing the last course for my teaching degree and hope to find a job in the local schools. The nanny position came at the right time.”
He noticed the textbook on the coffee table. “How did you meet Lieutenant Jones?”
“We knew each other in Germany. That was my last duty station. Wanda and I were both taking night classes for our degrees. I transferred back to Fort Rickman, liked the area and decided not to reenlist.”
“And home is?”
She stared at him as if she didn’t understand. “Freemont is currently my home. I live at 2010 Pinegate Circle. You probably want my phone number.”
He nodded, made note of the cell number she provided and then rephrased his earlier question.
“Where was home before the military?
“Where did I grow up?” She hesitated. “I was raised in Detroit.”
The inner city had crumbled over the past decade into a no-man’s land. The suburbs still held on to hope of regeneration, but the downtown looked worse than some of the bombed-out areas in Afghanistan.
As if reading his mind, her voice took on a defensive edge. “I joined the army to make a life for myself, Special Agent Kohl, and I hardly see how where I grew up has bearing on what happened tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked down at his notebook. “Let’s go back to this evening. Could you tell me what you heard?”
“Pounding against the wall. A woman screamed twice, followed by a thumping sound.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself as if to find comfort. “It sounded like someone was falling down the stairs.”
“There was a storm,” he prompted. “Lightning, thunder, heavy rain. Could you have mistaken the rumble of thunder for sounds you thought came from the adjoining quarters?”
She bristled. “I know what thunder sounds like.”
“Of course you do.”
Her shoulders sagged and her assuredness ebbed. “I was studying for an exam and had evidently fallen asleep.”
“Here in the living room?”
“That’s right. Something woke me. Maybe the storm. Maybe something else. Like raised voices or a crash against the wall.”
Natalie continued to chronicle what had provoked her call. “I heard voices that escalated into a heated argument, although I couldn’t make out what was being said.”
“Could you determine if the voices were male or female?”
“Not really, although one of them sounded far more aggressive and seemingly male.”
“Seemingly?”
“It was deeper, raised and more insistent. The argument kept escalating. When something crashed against the wall, I immediately thought of domestic abuse.”
“How many times did something crash against the wall?”
“Two times, maybe three.”
He pursed his lips. “You’re not sure?”
“Two hits. Both followed by a scream. I knew something bad was happening.”
“Did you pound on the wall or call out to see if anyone needed help?”
“Not at that point.” She raised her brow as if worried she hadn’t reacted appropriately. “Do you think I should have?”
“Ma’am, I can’t tell you what you should have done.”
She sighed. “I doubt they would have heard me.”
“Then what happened?”
“A series of thumps sounded down the stairs. I knew someone had fallen or had been pushed.”
“Is that when you called the police?”
“First I went outside and banged on their door.”
“Did
