The Officer's Secret. Debby Giusti
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party.”
“Same unit that had two casualties in Afghanistan this week?” Nate asked.
“That’s right, sir. Captain York—the company commander—and his driver hit an improvised explosive device. Now this. It’s hard on the unit. Hard on everyone.”
Nate knew all too well the tragic consequences an IED could cause. Was that what had led to the major’s suicide? Had she felt in any way responsible for the captain’s death? “How long before the medical examiner gets here?”
“The ME should be here any minute.”
“Did you talk to the sister?”
The sergeant nodded. “But only briefly. She’s pretty shook up.”
An understatement from what Nate had seen.
“Ms. Bennett had enough sense to call for help,” Sergeant Thorndike continued. “When I arrived she was white as a sheet and hyperventilating. Said she lives in Independence, Alabama. Received a phone call at approximately 2330 hours from the deceased. The victim sounded anxious, according to the sister. Major Bennett had fought with her estranged husband, Graham Hughes, shortly before the phone call.”
“The major used her maiden name?”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Has the husband been notified?”
“Negative. We’re trying to track him down. Evidently he moved out a few days after Major Bennett arrived stateside.”
“Alert the post chaplain to a possible notification of next of kin. I’ll want to talk to the husband. Let me know when you find out where he’s staying.”
“Will do, sir.” The sergeant unclipped his cell phone from his belt and stepped to the corner of the attic to call the chaplain.
Nate neared the body. He examined the knots that formed the noose and then the victim’s neck and hands, noting her intact skin. No signs of struggle. Blood had pooled in her extremities, consistent with death by hanging and the beginnings of rigor mortis. It all looked like a textbook suicide, and yet… Something about it bothered him, and it took a minute to put his finger on it.
The sergeant closed his cell. “Chaplain Grant will be here shortly, sir.”
Nate pointed to the victim’s bare feet. “Where are her shoes?”
“Main floor, sir. Under a table by the door.”
“It’s a cold night. Why would Major Bennett walk around her house without shoes?”
The sergeant shrugged. “You got me there, sir.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Nate turned as Major Brett Hansen, the pathologist and medical examiner on post stepped into the attic. “Good to see you, Nate.”
“Sir.”
The major nodded to the sergeant and photographer. “What do we have here, gentlemen?”
Nate filled him in on the somewhat limited information accumulated so far. Wasting no time, the doc slipped on latex gloves and began his visual exam of the victim’s body. Once complete, Sergeant Thorndike would lower her to the floor so additional forensic evidence could be gathered.
Knowing the procedure would take time, Nate descended the stairs to the first floor where the bereaved sister sat, legs crossed and head resting in her hands.
Peering into the kitchen, he saw Mills bent over the wine bottle. “Find anything yet?”
The MP looked up. “The glass you pulled from the dishwasher had been wiped clean, sir. We might get lucky on the bottle.”
“Good man.”
Entering the living room, Nate glanced, once again, at the grief-stricken woman. She appeared fragile as a butterfly and, no doubt, was devastated by what she’d discovered tonight. As much as he hated to disturb her, Nate needed information.
Moving closer, he touched her shoulder. The knit of her sweater was soft to his fingertips. “Ms. Bennett? Maggie?”
She looked up, startled. The pain in her eyes cut through him like a well-aimed laser beam.
“If I could have a few minutes of your time, ma’am.”
Fatigue lined her oval face, but her ashen coloring concerned him more. She had found her sister’s body and was surrounded by law enforcement personnel trying to make sense of a tragic death. No one had time to offer her more than a perfunctory word of compassion or support.
He glanced at the empty glass on the end table. “Would you like more water?”
She shook her head and rubbed her hands over her arms. “Thank you, no.”
“If you’re cold, I could raise the thermostat?”
“I… I’m just tired.”
“Of course.” He pulled up a chair. “Could you tell me what happened tonight?”
When she didn’t answer, he scooted closer. “I know it’s difficult.”
She nodded. “Dani called me. She was upset…almost hysterical. She had told her husband she wanted a divorce.”
Nate removed the notebook and pen from his pocket. He needed to put aside the fact that this woman ignited a spark of interest deep within him and focus instead on the questions he had to ask and she, hopefully, would be able to answer.
“Graham…” Maggie hesitated. “My sister’s husband wanted them to reconcile.”
“Go on.” Painfully aware of the heat that continued to warm his gut, Nate swallowed hard and concentrated on the information Maggie began to recount.
“They…they had argued. Graham was upset. But then so was my sister. Dani told him to leave. Obviously, he…he came back later and—”
When she failed to complete the statement, Nate asked, “When did your sister and Mr. Hughes marry?”
“Dani ran into him shortly after she transferred here to Rickman. That was two years ago. They dated a few months. She sent me a wedding announcement after they were married.”
“You attended the ceremony?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
Could Maggie’s dislike of her brother-in-law stem from being excluded from their wedding? Nate drew a question mark on his tablet before asking, “Did you know Graham?”
“Yes.”
“Had infidelity been an issue?”
She wiped her hand over her cheek and sniffed. “Not that Dani mentioned. But when we met for lunch last week, she told me that their marriage was over.”
Nate nodded as he continued writing. “When you entered the house, did anything indicate Graham had been here?”
“A bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. Dani never drank red wine.”
“What about her husband?”
“I… I don’t know. When I was upstairs, I heard footsteps on the first floor.” Maggie bit her lip and shook her head ever so slightly, her eyes widening with realization. “Graham must have been in the house the whole time I was searching for my sister.”
“Did you see Graham Hughes?”
“No, but it had to be him.”
Had to was supposition. Maggie seemed eager to place blame on her brother-in-law’s shoulders. Too eager? No matter how unlikely, if Major Bennett’s death were ruled a homicide, the beautiful woman sitting next to Nate could end up being a person of interest, as well.
“Was the front door locked when you arrived?”
Maggie nodded. “I knocked.