“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. “You tell me. Was my father involved in some nefarious or illegal operation?”
“Do you think he was?”
“I have no idea. According to his lawyer, Jeffrey Harris stipulated in his will that I was not to be notified of his death until after his burial. Mr. Gates presumed that my father didn’t want me to feel coerced to attend his funeral. I must admit that I question my father’s logic. It seems strange that he would be considerate of a daughter he’d never tried to contact.”
Giving voice to what troubled her the most about her father brought even more unease to her already-troubled heart. Why hadn’t her father wanted a relationship with his only child?
She glanced at the fireplace with its wide hearth and sturdy oak mantel and shook her head to ward off the hot tears that burned her eyes. She usually could control her emotions. Tonight was different. More than anything, she didn’t want to seem needy in front of the agent with the penetrating eyes and questioning gaze. “I feel like I’m drowning, as you might imagine. No buoy or life preserver in sight.”
“Ms. York...uh, Carrie, I’m sure things will sort themselves out over the next few days. How long do you plan to stay in Freemont?”
“I’m not sure. Mr. Gates mentioned that someone is interested in buying the property. He encouraged me to sell, and initially, I had planned to put the house on the market as soon as possible.”
“And now?” the CID agent asked.
“Now I’m not sure.”
“Then you plan to stay?”
“No.” She didn’t know what she planned to do. “I have a job in DC, but I can work here for a period of time. I’m sure the police won’t want me to leave the area.”
“Not until the investigation is over,” he confirmed.
“Then that settles the problem. I’m forced to stay, although I’m concerned about safety issues with a man dead in the backyard. Still, I’ll remain here, at least until the ceremony downtown.”
“I’m unaware of any ceremony.”
“Honoring veterans from the local area. Mr. Gates said a plaque with my father’s name and years in service will be added to the War Memorial and unveiled at the end of the month. I’ll stay until then.”
“And if the investigation is still ongoing?”
Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “Eventually I’ll have to return to my job.”
“You work for Drake Kingsley?”
“That’s right. I’m his speechwriter.”
“Do you believe everything you write in his speeches?”
The personal nature of the question surprised her as much as the sudden hard edge to his voice.
Any residual tears instantly dried. “What does that mean?”
“He’s not a friend of the military.”
“Senator Kingsley is a good man.” With a big heart, she almost added.
“If that’s what you believe, then he’s got you fooled.”
The door opened, and Inman stepped into the foyer. “Officer Phillips needs to see you, sir.”
The special agent pushed out of the chair and stood. “Excuse me, ma’am. I have work to do.”
He turned on his heel and followed Inman outside, leaving her alone, except for Bailey and the young cop who stood guard at the door.
Recalling the special agent’s curt tone and abrasive comment, she felt her heart pounding. The senator had been like a father to her over the past eighteen months that she’d worked for him. Demanding at times, but he was also generous with his praise, and her writing had improved under his tutelage.
Why would Special Agent Zimmerman be so antagonistic toward a noted public servant who played such an important role in her life? The senator had changed a few of her speeches over the months to tone down her exuberant support for the military. She had never purposefully maligned anyone in uniform, nor would she ever do so. The special agent didn’t understand that she was a paid employee on Kingsley’s staff and had to comply with his requests in regard to his talks.
Evidently Mr. Zimmerman was unaware of the number of people Carrie admired, all dedicated men and women who were serving in the military. She—and indeed, the entire nation—was indebted to their sacrifice.
Admittedly Senator Kingsley had been somewhat