the backseat, the chaplain once again offered words of sympathy that Maggie appreciated but wasn’t able to fully comprehend. The fact that Dani was dead seemed surreal. Maggie still refused to believe it could have been suicide.
Her sister had worked too hard to get where she was in the military to take her own life. Plus, if she had wanted to end it all, she wouldn’t have chosen a noose.
The chaplain finished his discourse and settled back in his seat, giving Maggie an opportunity to glance at the agent sitting behind the wheel. Despite the civilian coat and tie he wore, Nate had military written all over him with his short haircut and intense gaze. He was probably a workaholic, who put the job first. Her father had fit that bill. Although so did she, if truth be told.
Just as Dani had turned to the military for fulfillment, Maggie had allowed counseling to take over her own life. They’d both learned from their dad, no doubt.
Riding across post in silence, Maggie concentrated on seeing Graham again. The last time they were together, Maggie had been in high school. Back then, he’d been the bad boy all the girls ran after. But people changed and maybe Graham had, as well.
Would she even recognize him after all these years? No matter what, she needed to be in control of her emotions and display strength instead of weakness. Dani deserved as much.
Nate drove through the main gate and turned onto a stretch of road lined with seedy bars, pawnshops and fast-food restaurants, all low-rent businesses that preyed on young soldiers far from home. Alabama had its fair share of ticky-tacky, but nothing compared with those hawking wares to the nation’s youthful warriors.
“Shouldn’t be much farther.” Nate checked the address written on a sheet of paper. Eventually, he pulled into an apartment complex and braked to a stop in front of a row of two-story town houses.
“Wait in the car, Maggie. Once we’ve established Graham is in the house, I’ll come back and get you.”
Trying to appeal to his common sense, she opened the passenger door. “That will delay you. There’s no reason why I can’t go with you now.”
“She’s right.” The chaplain stepped from the car and glanced at Nate.
“Whatever you say, sir.”
Maggie heard a hint of frustration in Nate’s reply. No telling how Graham would react to this dead-of-the-night encounter. The CID agent probably wondered if having her underfoot would complicate an already difficult situation. The look on his face sent a clear message he would rather leave her in the car.
Nate hadn’t known her long enough to realize she could handle adversity. She’d had enough in her lifetime, although tonight wasn’t the norm. She was acting on instinct rather than reason.
Falling into step between the two officers, Maggie was struck with the irony of the moment and the army’s attention to detail. The powers that be had provided a chaplain to comfort the grieving husband and a CID agent to decide whether to haul him in for questioning. If Maggie had anything to say about what would unfold, she’d demand Graham be interrogated for hours until he divulged the truth about her sister’s death.
Nate flicked his gaze around the apartment complex, making her realize that, if her brother-in-law was a killer, the three of them could be in danger. The hair on the back of her neck tingled as she took in the deep shadows and hidden recesses where someone—anyone—could be hiding.
Nate stepped protectively in front of her and knocked on the door. The three of them waited in silence.
“Yeah?” A deep voice sounded through the closed door.
“I’m Special Agent Patterson, of the U.S. Army CID, and I’m here with Chaplain Grant. We’re looking for Graham Hughes.”
The door opened, and a tall, beefy guy, wearing a T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, stood in the threshold. A scruffy beard and disheveled hair completed his attire.
Resting his hand on the doorjamb, he stared at them with confused eyes. “Something wrong?”
Nate pulled out his identification and held it open. “We need to speak to Graham Hughes.”
“He’s not here.”
Glancing around Nate and into the apartment, Maggie saw a leather couch and a coffee table covered with newspapers and a pizza delivery box.
“Are you Arnold Zart?” Nate asked.
“Yeah.” The guy stifled a yawn. “Who’s the woman?”
“I’m Maggie Bennett,” she said, in a voice that sounded more self-assured than she currently felt. “I’m Graham’s sister-in-law.”
“Any suggestions where we can find him?” Nate asked, deflecting the guy’s attention away from Maggie.
“No clue.”
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Hughes?” Nate continued.
“We work together. I saw him at the office yesterday, that would be Friday, and only briefly after work.”
“Has he been living here with you?”
“Graham and his wife are having problems. I’ve got a spare bedroom and told him that he could bunk here until they patched things up.”
“Did he mention reconciling with his wife?”
Zart dropped his arm. “Look, I’m not comfortable talking about Graham’s personal life behind his back.”
Nate squared his shoulders and leaned in closer. “I could take you to the CID office if you’d feel more comfortable there.”
The guy held up his hands. “Give me a break, okay?” He hesitated and then sighed. “Graham said he was going over to the Freemont Bar and Grill on Johnson Street about nine o’clock last night. A woman works there. She’s been interested in him for some time. Graham needed to talk.”
“A woman?” Maggie blurted out unable to remain silent. “What’s her name?”
The contractor shrugged. “Graham never said.”
Nate gave him his card. “If Mr. Hughes comes back, have him call me.”
“Will do.” The guy shut the door, leaving them standing on the front steps.
“But—?” Maggie wanted more information.
Nate took her arm and turned her toward the street. “We’ll talk in the car.”
She pulled her arm from his hold and huffed as she hurriedly walked along the sidewalk. “You could have searched the house.”
“We don’t have the authority—not at this point. But we’ll track down the woman who works at the bar and grill. She might be able to lead us to Graham.”
Maggie wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling tired as well as angry. “He’s probably out of the country by now.”
“More likely, he’s with his new
