He was a grown-up. He was a grown-up who had screwed up unbelievably bad in almost every way there was, and he wasn’t going to get out of it with some grand fuck-you-world gesture. He locked the 9 mm back in the cabinet and trudged upstairs. Put on the rest of his uniform. One thing at a time. He had questions about Ellen Bain to figure out. Then, if he played his cards right, he’d have his job. Then he’d fix things with Jake. Then he’d get his wife back.
Get one thing right. Doesn’t matter if you have no idea how the rest of it will fall into place, or even if it will fall into place. It was just like his tour of duty. You take it one day at a time, one hour, sometimes one minute at a time, and that’s how you get through it.
He set his beret on his head and went off to do one thing right.
Eric parked as close to the hotel entrance as he could. He sat there for a while, hearing Jennifer saying, If you get caught you could face charges. You could lose your job . Hearing Will Ellis saying, Nobody gets left behind.
He got out of the car. Took the curving steps up to the wide cobblestone entryway, jammed with rich-looking retirees getting into Beemers or handing off the keys to the Mercedes to the valets. The parking guys were too busy to pay him any heed, but several guests stared at him. Curious, at first, because the resort was out of the pay grade of anybody lower than a full bird colonel. Then they got the look he had seen before. It was all sorts of warm and approving, like they had slapped a WE SUPPORT OUR TROOPS magnet on their faces. God, he hated that look.
It was less annoying on the face of the perky blond desk clerk. Hotel receptionists always looked like they were grateful for your service. “May I help you?” the girl said.
“Yes, you can.” He tried to smile, but it felt off. “I’d like to speak to your human resources manager.”
Her expression grew guarded. “I’m afraid we’re not hiring at this time, but I can get you an application to fill out if you’d like.”
Eric flipped his reserve ID badge at her, fast enough to register, not so fast she could make out the details. “I’m with the military police. I need to ask a few questions about Tally McNabb.”
“Oh. Okay. Wait here, please.” She disappeared through the door behind reception. Popped out again not two minutes later. “Ms. Kirkwood will be right with you.”
Elaine Kirkwood, the Algonquin Wates HR director, had the softened skin of somebody’s mother and the assessing eyes of a card shark. She led Eric around the edge of the resort’s sprawling lobby, past the dark, leafy bar, into a side corridor punctuated by unmarked doors. She opened one and ushered him into a typical corporate space-copier, cubicles, and computers. Hermetically sealed windows displayed untouchable views of trees, mountains, sky. Several women’s heads popped up like woodchucks out of holes. Eric thought, not for the first time, that he’d rather take a bullet than have to work in an office.
Kirkwood continued on to an inner door. “This way.” She shut the door behind them, then sat at a desk that was almost as cluttered as the chief’s. He took one of the two chairs facing her. There was a large box of tissues within reach. For employees getting the ax, he supposed. “I don’t know if you’ve checked with them, Sergeant, but we’ve already given a statement to the local police.”
“I’m not here about her suicide.” He slid his pen and notebook out of his breast pocket.
“You’re not? What, then?”
“How long had she been working for BWI Opperman?”
Kirkwood raised her eyebrows as if to acknowledge his sidestepping her question. “Almost three months. She started on August first.”
“Can you tell me what, exactly, her job entailed?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Was she responsible for the accounting for the entire company?”
“Oh, no. We have an outside firm for that. Tally’s job was to keep the books for the special construction projects.”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.” He gave her a look that said, I’m slow.
“Oh, well, let’s see. Let me give you some history.” She held up three fingers. “There are three divisions of BWI Opperman.”
Not that slow, he wanted to say.
“The original division is the resort construction company. For its first twenty years, the company specialized in fulfillment. Building for others,” she said in response to his questioning expression. “About fifteen years ago, the company went vertical. Designing, building, and operating its own resorts. In the past few years, BWI Opperman has spun its expertise off into special projects that require single-team, clearing-to-cap construction.”
“Can you give me an example of that?”
“Well, the only contracts we’ve taken so far have been with the coalition forces in Iraq.”
Eric blinked. “There aren’t any resorts in Iraq. At least, not any that weren’t blown up.”
She smiled. “BWI Opperman was hired because of that vertical integration. We have earth movers and carpenters and electricians and roofers and anyone else you might require to turn a completely undeveloped piece of land into a school. Or a clinic. Or a mess hall. Anything that might be necessary. We’re one-stop shopping for the Provisional Authority’s building needs. All the American contractors are, as I understand it.”
“So she did all the accounting for that. From here?”
“Yes. Well.” Kirkwood paused and looked uncomfortable for a moment. “She had been reassigned. It was felt that having the specials’ accountant in Iraq would be more useful. Lead to less cost overruns. Of course, she never actually went over.” Her voice thinned.
“You had another bookkeeper here before Tally was hired. Ellen Bain.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“What was her job?”
Kirkwood lifted her brows. “Special construction projects. Tally was hired to replace her.”
“Three days after she died in an accident?”
The HR director’s face fell into smooth, untroubled lines. “It was too important a position to leave unfilled.”
“How did Tally come to your attention?”
“I’m afraid our hiring process is confidential.” Kirkwood placed her hands on her desk and rose. “If that’s all, Sergeant, I have a busy day ahead of me.”
Eric stood as well. “Who replaced her?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Who replaced Tally? In the special construction position?”
Kirkwood blinked, hiding her shark’s eyes for a moment. “We haven’t found anyone suitable yet.”
“It doesn’t make any goddamn sense.” Russ paced from the squad room table to one of the windows to the whiteboard to the huge three-county map hanging near the door.
“Will you quit that? You’re gonna give me motion sickness.” Lyle handed Tony Usher a mug of coffee. “Don’t worry. Harlene made it. It’s safe to drink.”
“You made a wrong call, Chief. It happens.” Tony sounded pretty damn philosophical for a man who’d had to admit to a CID investigator and another JAG that he’d been running his own not entirely authorized investigation.
“Christ, Tony, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“No harm, no foul. They think I was following the same case, just half a step behind them. I can stand looking a little slow. It’s not going to hurt my career.”
Tony was generous. Two light birds-the JAG had been a lieutenant colonel, too-now thought Usher was some sort of cowboy. Not the performance any major wanted on his record.
“I just don’t get it.” Russ picked his own mug off the table, wincing at the spasm of pain in his shoulder where the overeager MP had rifle-butted him. “She let her prime informant fly off to Iraq. She didn’t search McNabb’s house or her bank accounts. Hell, as far as we can tell, she never even questioned Tally’s friends. That’s not an investigation. That’s dereliction of duty.”