as if he knew exactly what they were doing “—there’s a good chance you’ll stumble across something I won’t. People may be more willing to open up to you. And since I’m allowing you to stay and observe this part of the investigation, it’s only fair that you make me privy to whatever insights you glean.”
“We report to the wing commander, Detective.” Ro’s anger bit at the back of her throat. She was willing to play nice but she had her limits. This civilian really thought they’d enter into some kind of private deal with him? That they’d tell him something before they told their chain of command?
“LCDR Brandywine is correct, Detective, but of course we’re open to information sharing. We’re all after the same results.” Miles was smooth and unemotional.
Detective Ramsey nodded.
“Good.”
They exchanged business cards before the detective walked away. No doubt his mind was already back on the case. Ro waited until Ramsey was out of earshot before she faced Miles.
“Are you crazy? I’m not going along with your method of doing business, Miles. You’re going to get us both a court martial!”
“Get a grip, Ro. All Ramsey asked is that we help him out if we can. There’s no harm in that. Plus, in your usually overanalytical manner, you’re missing the big point here.”
She sighed.
“Which is?”
“On the off chance that this isn’t a suicide, then someone at the wing may have killed Perez. The detective knows that the navy will circle its wagons if this becomes evident. He’s pegged us as his way in.”
Someone they worked with, killing Perez in cold blood?
She shook her head.
“Doesn’t matter. It is a suicide and, bottom line, we report to the commodore.”
“Of course we do. But it doesn’t hurt to make friends when we can. No matter how certain we might be that this is probably a suicide, we’re not the experts with the evidence. The sheriff’s department is.”
* * *
MILES HAD TO hold back a smile three times while he spoke to Ro.
She was the überprofessional she thought she should be, and she was shit-hot at her job. But she was too uptight, too by-the-book. His operational background was going to have to be what got them through this, especially if the case turned sour and wasn’t a suicide.
His one gripe with navy intel had always been that it was so easy for the spook types to do a slick PowerPoint presentation on enemy territory and weapons stats. But they weren’t the ones on the ground with zero visibility from a sandstorm, fighting off Taliban who’d grown up in the area and knew it like the back of their hands.
He watched her expression as she took in the whole grisly scene. It was normal to feel sick the first time—hell, every time—you saw a dead body. Especially one that had recently met its violent end. Suicide made it more emotional, too. If a young sailor who was apparently happy with his job and life was willing to kill himself, how close were they all to this kind of despair?
“You dealt with this a lot in Iraq and Afghanistan.” She didn’t ask, but assumed she was right.
“Probably not as much as you, or someone else who hasn’t been there, thinks. Some of the folks I worked with didn’t see anything too rough. Some saw way more than their share of death and destruction.”
“And you?”
He didn’t look at her. Couldn’t look into her rich violet-blue eyes and tell her the worst. She didn’t need it, not today.
“I’d say I was somewhere in the middle.”
Ro took out a notebook from her jacket pocket and began writing notes.
“What are you afraid you’ll forget?” From what he’d seen of her briefings, she had a near-photographic memory.
She shot him a quick glance. “As you said, it’s my first time doing this, seeing this.” She motioned at Perez’s body. “My emotions are running higher than usual so I don’t want to risk forgetting simple details.”
“So even when you’re upset, you control it? Is there anything you don’t try to control, Roanna?”
Her nostrils flared and her mouth set in a determined line. He’d pushed too far.
Oh, he’d love to kiss her until her annoyance with him turned into something more enjoyable....
“Just keeping it professional and giving Perez my best effort, Warrant.”
“Right.”
He wanted to tell her that no matter how many notes she took she’d never get the image of Perez’s body out of her mind, not entirely. He wanted to shout at her and tell her to put the notepad away and rely on her gut. Let her emotions do whatever they needed to and allow the bigger picture to come into focus.
Instead, he shoved his hands in his own pockets and looked out toward the sea.
CHAPTER FOUR
RO ENTERED HER small foyer with a deep sigh of gratitude. It had been a long day and wasn’t over yet. From the AOM to the meeting with the commodore and then the awful scene at the beach, she felt like she’d been at sea—as though one day was really a week long. Time seemed immeasurable.
She only had an hour, tops, before she had to meet with Miles again. Her years at the academy had taught her the value of power naps as well as power breaks. She’d have to make the next fifty-eight minutes feel like a weekend.
Her home wrapped its arms around her and her shoulders let go of the weight they’d carried since Miles had tackled her this morning. She didn’t have many people over, and that was by design. This was her oasis from all things navy-related. When she’d returned stateside after her last wartime deployment she’d decided it was the right time to purchase a house, no matter where she ended up via her navy orders. The fact that Dick had dumped her, and she’d accepted that she was truly alone, only hastened her quest to find her own home.
Oak Harbor, Washington, was a long way from Virginia Beach, Virginia, where she’d rented a condo while assigned to the aircraft carrier. The wilds of the Pacific Northwest contrasted sharply with the crowded suburban sprawl she’d grown up with in New Jersey.
She was thousands of miles from her family and childhood friends.
It was exactly what she needed and still wanted. Each month when she paid her mortgage, she was above all else grateful that she was a homeowner, free and clear of anyone else’s emotional tentacles.
She dropped her fitness and lunch bags onto the bench she’d reupholstered last Saturday. Had that only been a few days ago? Less than a week?
Her whole life had changed this morning.
She’d thrown Dick’s ring away. Let go of the shame, self-pity and sorrow she’d worn like out-of-date costume
