“Jamison, any clue who the murderer might be?” Mrs. Logan asked once the medics had cleared the room. Her face was blotched, but she seemed more in control than she had been earlier.
“No, ma’am. But I ordered a post lockdown on the way over here. No one goes on or off Fort Rickman until the military police search the garrison. Right now they’re crisscrossing the post in an attempt to find the perpetrator.”
“Curtis Hughes needs to be told.”
“We’re placing a call to your husband so he can personally notify Major Hughes.”
Mrs. Logan nodded her approval. “I want to talk to Stanley after you do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Michele’s cheeks had more color than when he’d first spotted her in the hallway, but her jaw was tight and her eyes guarded.
He pulled a small notebook and a U.S. government pen from his coat pocket and kept his face impassive as he thought of questions that begged to be answered. Why’d you leave me, Michele? What happened that made you run away?
Shoving them aside, he asked instead, “Did you see anything out of place, Miss Logan, before you noticed the body?”
“Miss Logan?” She narrowed her gaze and squared her shoulders in an attempt to cover the flash of confusion that clouded her face. Evidently, she didn’t understand his decision to forgo first names.
No matter how alluring Michele might be, Jamison refused to expose his own inner conflict. He needed to remain professional and aloof, firmly grounded in the present.
Michele tugged at a wayward strand of hair and glanced down as if struggling to find the right words to express what had happened.
“I...I heard a noise and decided to investigate.” She pulled in a deep breath. “A lamp...the room was dark...the smell of blood. Wh...when I stepped closer, I...I saw Yolanda.”
“What happened next?”
“Someone shoved me into the couch.”
Jamison tensed. His mouth went dry. He swallowed, knowing all too well what the killer could have done to Michele. “Can you describe the person?”
She shook her head. “He struck from behind. I never saw him.”
Jamison turned to Mrs. Logan. “Did you see him, ma’am?”
“I’m afraid not. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness, and everything happened so fast.”
“Before entering the quarters, did either of you notice anyone outside? Or anything that seemed out of the ordinary?”
“Mother and I were talking as we drove up. I’m afraid we weren’t being observant, Agent Steele.”
Jamison almost smiled at her attempt to play hardball. Evidently, she didn’t realize he’d built a wall around his heart and added armor for protection. Michele wouldn’t hurt him again. He’d learned his lesson and had the scars to prove it.
“You’re still working for that insurance company?” he asked.
“That’s right. Patriotic Life.”
“Doing risk management?”
“And working from home, if that’s your next question.” She crossed her legs and braced her spine, confrontation evident as she shifted positions.
The pulse in his neck throbbed. “Do you have a list of tonight’s guests?”
“Mother does on her computer. I can print a copy for you.”
“How many people, other than the eighteen women who were invited, may have known about the potluck?”
Michele glanced at her mother for help. “I’m not sure.”
“Seventeen women and one man,” Mrs. Logan corrected Jamison. “Major Shirley Yates is in charge of logistics for the brigade. Her husband, Greg, usually attends the events when we get together.”
“Has he been to Mrs. Hughes’s home previously?” Jamison asked.
Mrs. Logan nodded. “Yes, of course. Yolanda entertains often.”
“Mr. Yates lives on post?”
“In Freemont. Greg has a son from a previous marriage, but I believe he’s in college. No telling who else knew about the potluck. Yolanda probably shared the information with some of her neighbors. She scrapbooks with a group of women in her housing area. Those wives might have known.”
“Had she mentioned anyone acting strangely in the neighborhood? Or had she reconnected with anyone from her past recently?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Is she on Facebook or Twitter?”
“Yolanda emailed her husband and kept up with the brigade news on our wives’ loop. She never mentioned being on any social media sites.”
“How about her marriage?” Jamison glanced at both women. “Were there problems?”
Michele forced a sad smile. “They seemed to be the perfect couple. Devoted to each other and to their children.”
“Any other men in her life? An old friend?”
Mrs. Logan held up her hand. “You can stop that line of questioning, Jamison. Yolanda was a devoted wife. She adored her husband. I’ll vouch for their love and their marriage.”
“What about Greg Yates, the major’s husband? Were he and Mrs. Hughes friendly?”
“Friends but that’s all.”
“And his marriage?”
Mrs. Logan dropped her gaze and thought for a moment before she spoke. “Deployments are tough, Jamison. There’s been some talk, but only that.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Shirley and Greg plan to separate once she returns home with the unit.”
“How’s Mr. Yates handling the situation?”
“In my opinion, he’s in denial.”
“And Major Yates?”
“Stanley’s said she seems withdrawn.”
Jamison made note of the information. “Major Yates asked for the separation?”
“Evidently Shirley told Greg she was leaving him. He suggested they go through a period of separation first.” Mrs. Logan pursed her lips momentarily. “A few wives thought Shirley was interested in someone else.”
“Someone in the brigade?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could she be involved with Major Hughes?”
Mrs. Logan’s eyes widened in protest. “Absolutely not.”
“Is there anything about Major Hughes that seems questionable, ma’am? As far as you know, does he get along with the other officers in the brigade? Is there anyone who might hold a grudge against him?”
“My husband has always given Curtis high praise. He went to Iraq with Stanley, when my husband commanded his battalion some years ago. Stanley was thrilled when Curtis was assigned to the First of the Fifth shortly before the brigade deployed to Afghanistan.”
Jamison turned to Michele. “You’ve known Major and Mrs. Hughes since he worked for your father in the battalion?”
She nodded. “I