From Potter`s Field

'What can I do to help you?' I asked.

She shook her head and began to sob.

'I can't stop,' she said. 'I can't stop crying. And if someone even scrapes their chair across the floor I jump.' She wiped tears with a paper towel, hands shaking. 'I feel like I'm going crazy.'

'When did this all start?'

She blew her nose. 'Yesterday. After the sheriff and the policeman were found. I heard about the one downstairs. They said even his boots was on fire.'

'Jennifer, do you remember the pamphlets I passed out about Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'It's something everybody's got to worry about in a place like this. Every single one of us. I have to worry about it, too.'

'You do?' Her mouth fell open.

'Certainly. I have to worry about it more than anyone.'

'I just thought you was used to it.'

'God forbid that any of us should get used to it.'

'I mean' - she lowered her voice as if we were talking about sex - 'do you get like I am right now?' She quickly added, 'I mean, I'm sure you don't.'

'I'm sure I do,' I said. 'I get very upset sometimes.'

Her eyes brimmed with tears again and she took a deep breath. 'That makes me feel a whole lot better. You know, when I was little my daddy always was telling me how stupid and fat I was. I didn't figure someone like you would ever feel like I do.'

'No one should have ever said such a thing to you,' I replied with feeling. 'You are a lovely person, Jennifer, and we are very fortunate to have you here.'

'Thank you,' she said quietly, eyes cast down.

I got up. 'I think you should go home for the rest of the day and have a nice long weekend. How about it?'

She continued looking down at the floor. 'I think I saw him,' she said, biting her bottom lip.

'Who did you see?'

'I saw that man.' She glanced at my eyes. 'When I saw the pictures on TV, I couldn't believe it. I keep thinking if only I had told somebody.'

'Where is it you think you saw him?'

'Rumors.'

'The bar?' I asked.

She nodded.

'When was this?'

'Tuesday.'

I looked closely at her. "This past Tuesday? The day after Christmas?'

That night Gault had been in New York. I had seen him in the subway tunnel, or at least I thought I had.

'Yes, ma'am,' Jennifer said. 'I guess it was about ten. I was dancing with Tommy.'

I did not know who Tommy was.

'I seen him hanging back from everyone. I couldn't help but notice because of his white hair. I'm not used to seeing anybody his age with hair that white. He was in a real cool black suit with a black T-shirt under it. I remember that. I figured he was from out of town. Maybe from a big place like Los Angeles or something.'

'Did he dance with anyone?'

'Yes, ma'am, he danced with a girl or two. You know, he'd buy them a drink. Then next thing I know he was gone.'

'Did he leave alone?'

'It looked to me like one girl went with him.'

'Do you know who?' I asked with dread. I hoped the woman, whoever she was, had lived.

'It wasn't anybody I knew,' Jennifer said. 'I just remember he was dancing with this one girl. He must've danced with her three times and then they walked off the floor together, holding hands.'

'Describe her,' I said.

'She was black. She was real pretty in this little red dress. It was low cut and kind of short. I remember she had bright red lipstick and all these little braids with little lights winking in them.' She paused.

'And you're certain they left the club together?' I asked.

'As far as I could tell. I never saw either one of them again that night, and me and Tommy stayed till two.'

I said to her, 'I want you to call Captain Marino and tell him what you just told me.'

Jennifer got out of the chair and felt important. 'I'll get started right this minute.'

I returned to my office as Rose was walking through the door.

'You need to call Dr. Gruber,' she said.

I dialed the number for the Quartermaster Museum, and he had stepped out. He called me back two hours later.

'Is the snow bad in Petersburg?' I asked him.

'Oh, it's just wet and messy.'

'How are things?'

'I've got something for you,' Dr. Gruber said. 'I feel real bad about it.'

I waited. When he offered nothing more, I said, 'What do you feel bad about, exactly?'

'I went into the computer and ran the name you wanted. I shouldn't have.' He got quiet again.

'Dr. Gruber, I'm dealing with a serial killer.'

'He was never in the army.'

'You mean his father wasn't,' I said, disappointed.

'Neither of them was,' Dr. Gruber said. 'Not Temple or Peyton Gault.'

'Oh,' I said. 'So the boots probably came from a surplus store.'

'Might have, but he may have an uncle.'

'Who has an uncle?'

'Temple Gault. That's what I'm wondering. There's a Gault in the computer, only his name is Luther. Luther Gault. He served in the Quartermaster Corps during World War Two.' He paused. 'In fact, he was right here at Ft. Lee a lot of the time.'

I had never heard of Luther Gault.

'Is he still alive?' I asked.

'He died in Seattle about five years ago,'

'What makes you suspicious this man might be Temple Gault's uncle?' I asked. 'Seattle's on the other side of the country from Georgia, which is where the Gaults are from.'

'The only real connection I can make is the last name and Ft. Lee.'

I then asked, 'Do you think it's possible the jungle boots once belonged to him?'

'Well, they're World War Two, and were tested here at Ft. Lee, which is where Luther Gault was stationed for most of his career. What would typically happen is soldiers, even some officers, would be asked to try out boots and other gear before any of it was sent to the boys in the trenches,'

'What did Luther Gault do after the army?'

'I don't have any information on him after the army except that he died at the age of seventy-eight,' He paused. 'But it might interest you to know he was a career man. He retired with the rank of major general,'

'And you had never heard of him before this?'

'I didn't say I've never heard of him,' He paused. 'I'm sure the army has quite a file on him if you could get your hands on it,'

'Would it be possible for me to get a photograph?'

'I have one on the computer - just your run-of-the-mill file photo,'

'Can you fax it?'

He hesitated again. 'Sure,'

I hung up as Rose walked in with yesterday's autopsy protocols. I reviewed them and made corrections while I waited for the fax machine to ring. Momentarily, it did, and the black-and-white image of Luther Gault materialized in my office. He stood proudly in dark mess jacket and pants with gold piping and buttons, and satin lapels. The resemblance was there. Temple Gault had his eyes.

I called Wesley.

'Temple Gault may have had an uncle in Seattle,' I said. 'He was a major general in the army,'

'How did you find that out?' he asked.

I did not like his coolness. 'It doesn't matter. What does is that I think we need to find out all we can about it,'

Wesley maintained his reserve. 'How is it germane?'

I lost my temper. 'How is anything germane when you're trying to stop somebody like this? When you've got nothing, you look at everything,'

'Sure, sure,' he said. 'It's no problem, but we can't schedule it just now. You too,' He hung up.

I sat there stunned, my heart gripped by pain. Someone must have been in his office. Wesley had never hung up on me before. My paranoia got more inflamed as I went to find Lucy.

'Hi,' she said before I spoke from the doorway.

She could see my reflection in the monitor.

'We've got to go,' I said.

'Why? Is it snowing again?'

'No. The sun's out.'

'I'm almost finished here,' she said, typing as she talked.

'I need to get you and Janet back to Quantico.'

'You need to call Grans,' she said. 'She's feeling neglected.'

'She is neglected and I feel guilty,' I said.