The Summer House

Chapter 35

I’m on the phone with Colonel Phillips, our superior officer, as Connie speeds us west on Interstate 16, back to Sullivan County and Briggs Brothers Funeral Home. The engine of our Ford grinds here and there, and the battered front hood vibrates hard against its latch, threatening to break free.

“Colonel, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t make that out.”

There’s a hiss of static, and his voice seems distant and quiet. He says, “...do what I can, but that’s one hell of a bit of news. Ranger squad accused of killing civilians overseas and then here... Damn, it’d be like if those My Lai soldiers came back from Vietnam in 1968 and shot up a 7-Eleven...”

He coughs and coughs.

“Colonel,” I say. “We’re going to need information about what happened in that Afghan village. What connection there might be between here and Hunter. There’s got to be something.”

More coughing. “...see what I can do.” The colonel disconnects the call.

I look at Connie, whose hands are firmly gripping the steering wheel.

“Sir, I’m getting some thoughts here, and I hate to bring them up.”

“Speak, Connie. Don’t hold back.”

“You’ve got a Ranger squad that raises hell in the States. Other platoon members and Rangers in their company don’t like them. They think this squad gets away with everything. Even their CO won’t back them up... That’s what he said, right, when we met him?”

“You’re right, Connie,” I say. “Go on.”

She passes a Walmart tractor-trailer truck and keeps on speeding.

“Then the rumors start, the stories, the tales,” she says. “Other Rangers get drunk at local pubs and roadhouses, swap tales about what they heard the staff sergeant and his squad did in Afghanistan. ‘Can you believe it?’ they say. ‘Jefferson and his Ninjas got away with it again.’”

I keep my mouth shut. When an investigator who works for you starts talking, you let them talk. You don’t want to disturb whatever slender thread their mind and gut have come up with.

“There’s resentment,” she says. “Anger. They know what happened in Afghanistan. They think the Ninjas got away with it. All right, a couple of them think. Let’s set them up here in the States. Do something that can’t be overlooked, can’t be ignored.”

I say, “So another squad of Rangers committed the murders?”

“That’s right,” she says.

“A hell of a stretch,” I say. “There’s a lot of evidence pointing to this squad. The fingerprints. The woman with her dog. The shell casings matching Jefferson’s pistol. The surveillance video from the store. One of the men in the house being the drug dealer for Staff Sergeant Jefferson’s stepdaughter. Jefferson telling Dr. Huang he knew what The Summer House looked like. The younger Ranger, Tyler, expressing guilt to Huang.”

Connie nods. “But the fact they were accused of exactly the same crime in Afghanistan, Major... there has to be a connection. Something.”

My phone rings and I pick it up, seeing the ID marking AGENT M SANCHEZ.

“Cook,” I say. “What do you have, Sanchez?”

His voice is clear and right to the point. “Nothing, Major,” he says. “Wendy Gabriel is gone from her house. And so’s her dog.”

I close my eyes for a brief second. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” he says. “Her car is still there. I gained access to the interior of the house and didn’t find any blood spatter or signs of a struggle or any evidence something bad happened. She and her dog... they’re gone.”

“All right,” I say. “Agent York and I are en route to Briggs Brothers Funeral Home. Meet us there.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, and we both disconnect, and Connie gives me a quick glance.

She says, “Sir?”

“Still here.”

“We’ve just found out that the Rangers were accused of a war crime in Afghanistan, something similar to what happened here in Sullivan County. I think we should be trying to find out more about what happened over there. See if we can talk to those few Rangers who haven’t deployed. Ask Captain O’Connell to revisit his sources. I don’t see why we’re still going to look at those bodies in the funeral home.”

I move my leg, and miracle of miracles, there’s no harsh spasm of pain.

“We’re going there because that’s our job.”