CHAPTER FIVE
Jessica led Faith a quarter mile away from the hill before they headed for the road and hopped the fence.
That turned out to be a wise decision. Three news vans had boxed in Jessica’s car.
If they had been caught hopping the fence, that would have caused a scandal, a minor one, but even minor scandals were problematic.
If they discovered Faith’s connection to Hayes, that would become far more problematic.
“Shit,” Jessica swore. “I shouldn’t have put on my hazards. I’m sorry, Faith.”
“They would have found us anyway,” Faith said. “They saw us checking out the scene. They would have come looking, and they would have seen you parked here.”
If Jessica had parked along the curb in one of the nearby residential neighborhoods, or in a business lot somewhere, then they might have avoided this, but Faith didn’t bring that up. The media was going to be a presence for this case, and they both had to learn how to deal with that.
The news crews scrambled to set up cameras and lights. Reporters both male and female checked their hair, clothing and makeup, glancing at the two agents like leopards watching a meal approach.
Turk growled low in his throat, and Faith reached down to pat his neck. “Easy boy. Play nice.”
Turk snorted irritably, but he stopped growling.
One of the female reporters sprinted towards them when they were about fifty yards from the car. Her cameraman and light guy cursed and stumbled after. The light guy carefully avoided an attempted trip from another reporter. God, they really were like vultures.
“Special Agent Bold!” the enterprising young woman called. “Special Agent Bold, has the FBI taken over this case?”
That was a harmless enough question that Faith decided to throw her a bone. “Yes. As this murder was committed on Federal property, the FBI has taken the case per Eighteen United States Code Section Eleven-Eleven. We will be making no other comments at this time.”
“Special Agent Bold, is it true that you personally knew the victim?”
Shit. They move fast. “See previous answer,” she said drily.
She walked past the reporter, ignoring the microphone and camera in her face.
Jessica took advantage of the focus on Faith to move to her car, but she was waylaid by another reporter, the lone male of the trio.
“Special Agent… Uh… Tors. What is your partner’s mental state?
Is she able to think clearly despite the loss of her friend? ”
Faith stifled a laugh as Jessica stared daggers at the man. “It’s Torres.”
“Yes, I apologize.”
The man waited for an answer to his other question, which Jessica didn’t provide. Instead, she said, “Will you please move your vehicles?”
The reporters, of course, didn’t acknowledge the request. The second female stuck a microphone in Faith’s face, deftly pushing the other reporter’s microphone out of the way. “Miss Bold, do you believe—”
“It’s Special Agent Bold.”
The reporter blinked, and the first woman jumped in, stepping closer and putting her microphone close enough that Faith could have kissed it.
“Special Agent Bold, this is the fourth murder at a war memorial in the Washington area in the past year. Do you believe there is an epidemic of attacks targeting former servicemembers?”
Faith didn’t answer. The second reporter, now miffed, asked, “Special Agent Bold, don’t you believe the public has the right to know why these murders are happening?”
“No.”
That stunned all three of them. The male reporter, sensing that Faith wasn’t going to play along, asked Jessica, “Do you believe your partner’s grief will impact her ability to work this case?”
“No,” Jessica replied just as bluntly as Faith had a moment ago.
“Agents, please,” the first reporter snapped. “The public has a right to know—”
“They do not,” Faith interrupted. “A man was murdered this morning in cold blood. His death is a tragedy, not a sensation. This case is a serious investigation, not a crime drama. When we have comments to make, we will make them. Until that time, you may assume that our priority is to solve this case, not to boost your ratings. Now move your vehicles, or I’ll have them moved for you. ”
The reporters glared at Faith for a long moment. The second female reporter tossed her hair saucily and turned to her camera. “As you can see, emotions are running high as FBI darling Faith Bold grapples with a case that just might be her most personal to date.”
Faith resisted the urge to roll her eyes as all three reporters offered barely disguised opinions that Faith was too compromised to work this case and the public would remain in mortal danger as long as the FBI allowed her to irresponsibly investigate this murder.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and made sure her voice was loud enough to be heard on camera as she pretended to dial nine-one-on.
“Hello, yes? My friend and I are being prevented from leaving the side of the road by news crews from Channels Six, Nine, and Thirteen. They’ve parked their vans in such a way that we are unable to move our own vehicle and—”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” the male reporter grumbled. “Greg, move the van.” He flashed Faith a reproachful look. “We’re just trying to do our jobs.”
“So are we,” Faith replied.
The news crews reluctantly moved their vehicles out of the way. The three FBI agents entered Jessica’s Prius, and the younger agent drove them away from the scene, chuckling at the rearview mirror as the cameramen tracked their movements. “Well, that was fun.”
“It’s going to get a lot more fun before the end of it,” Faith warned.
As Jessica accelerated away from the eager news crews, Faith looked Hayes up in the Veterans’ Association database.
Hayes had retired from the Navy Chaplain Corps ten years ago, but he remained active with the VA, serving as Chaplain Emeritus for the Washington West VA Office, which, conveniently, was located at Joint Base Meyer-Henderson Hall directly adjacent to the cemetery.
Business hours for the office ended two hours earlier, but most VA offices had twenty-four-hour chaplain services available for veterans in crisis.
She called the number, and after working her way through a long menu, found herself speaking with Chaplain Veronica Kessler, the Chaplain-in-Chief for the office. After introducing herself, Faith asked if she could stop by briefly to interview the chaplains who knew Hayes.
“I’m the only one still in the office,” Kessler replied, “but you can talk to me. I’ll call someone to cover the phone lines for me, and then we can talk. What did you say your name was, by the way?”
“Faith Bold.”
“Hmm… That sounds familiar.”
“I served briefly with Chaplain Hayes,” Faith replied. She didn’t share the story of Hayes comforting her after her first battle.
“Ah. He must have mentioned you. He had an excellent memory. He recalled much about the people he served with. Were you a member of the Navy Chaplain Corps?”
“No, ma’am,” Faith said. “I was just a grunt.”
“There’s no such thing as just a grunt, Miss Bold,” Kessler said. “Not to Robert, and not to me.”
A lump formed in Faith’s throat. She really was emotional. She swallowed it and said, “I appreciate that, ma’am. I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon. Go with God, Special Agent.”
Faith hung up and kept her reply to herself. I’ll sure try.
***
The VA office at Myer-Henderson Hall was quiet when they arrived but not empty.
While business hours ended early, in practice, the VA offices were accessible at all times to veterans in need.
A few people waited in the VA clinic’s lobby for urgent care visits.
A few others walked through the memorial hall, reading names on plaques dedicated to those fallen in combat or looking at statues or pictures of past military leaders.
To most, their expressions would have been unreadable, but Faith recognized the deep pain in their eyes, the haunted dreams from which they never fully woke.
Turk padded softly down the hall to Chaplain Kessler’s office, gazing with empathy on the visitors.
A few met his eyes and smiled. He dipped his head in acknowledgment and from time to time gave Faith a proud but weary look.
Faith wondered how much he remembered of his own service.
She’d met him when they were both in the middle of their FBI careers, but Turk was a former Marine working dog too.
Just like Sierra.
That unwelcome insertion reminded Faith of David, back at home with his bodyguards preparing for a night without Faith. She pushed the thought away before it could pull her too far from the case and knocked on Chaplain Kessler’s door, two solid raps before standing at attention without thinking.
“Enter,” Kessler replied in the appropriate way, probably also not thinking. The military ingrained itself into a person’s psyche at the deepest levels.
As soon as Faith walked inside the office, however, she was an FBI agent again.
She smiled at Kessler and greeted her with a handshake, then accepted the chair Kessler gestured too.
Jessica did the same, and Turk sat in between the two chairs.
He remained at attention, back straight, head high, face forward.
Kessler smiled at him. “Excellent posture, Marine.” She glanced at Faith. “Was he yours?”
“Not in the Corps, no, ma’am. I was already out when he was born.” And now I feel old yet again. Wonderful.
“I see. Well, he cuts an excellent figure of a Marine.”
Turk looked like he was about to explode with pride, and Faith grinned affectionately at her dog. “He’s a good dog.”
“That reflects well on his handler,” Kessler replied.
She sat down and sighed wearily. She was a beautiful older African American woman with shoulder-length black hair sprinkled liberally with gray and kind brown eyes that had seen the darkest aspects of humanity and carried a torch for the race in spite of that.
She looked much as Hayes had in Faith’s memory.
“Hayes was fond of visiting the memorials at dawn every Sunday before mass,” Kessler began unprompted.
“He believed in beginning his week by remembering those for whom he had performed last rites. Several of them are buried in Arlington. He would usually arrive here before dawn, pray for those whose resting places he couldn’t visit, then drive to the cemetery to pray for those he could. ”
“He was allowed in before visiting hours?” Jessica asked.
Kessler smiled at her and explained, “Combat veterans are permitted twenty-four-hour access to all national cemeteries.”
Jessica raised an eyebrow and looked at Faith. That was a strong hint that their killer was a combat veteran. Faith noted that and continued the interview. “Was there anything especially important about Annette Winslow?”
Kessler shook her head. “Not as far as I know. Hayes mentioned that he felt bad for her family, but he mentioned that about all of them.”
“Do any of those family members live close by?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so, no. In any case, I met Mr. Winslow once, and he didn’t strike me as the vindictive type. He had lost his faith, but he wasn’t violent. Of course, that’s based only on one interaction.”
Her eyes fell to her hands, and Faith guessed at the reason for the change in her expression. “Do you know of anyone who was violent who might have threatened Hayes?”
Kessler sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. We had a veteran visit the clinic last week. He encountered Robert while he was visiting other patients and… there was an altercation.”
Faith glanced at Jessica. “Can you expand on that?”
“This individual accused Hayes and all chaplains of spreading false hope. He called Hayes a snake-oil salesman and a great deal of other names that I won’t repeat. He became vehement enough that security had to remove him from the clinic.
“What was his name?” Faith asked.
“Marcus Welling.” Kessler sighed again. “He was a project of mine. I hoped to bring him back to God, but he’s so angry. Just so angry.”
She looked at her hands for a long moment, then lifted her gaze back to the agents. “Please don’t judge him too harshly. He has suffered so much. They all have.”
Me too, Faith thought. I’m not taking it out on innocent old men.
She kept that thought to herself. Aloud, she replied, “I’m not here to judge anyone. Only to find a murderer and take him off the street before he can take any other lives.”
“Yes,” Kessler agreed. “Just remember that he has a life too, one that is just as meaningful as anyone’s, including mine and yours. Including Robert’s. He believed that just as strongly as I do.”
Faith couldn’t think of a way to answer that without either lying or lashing out, so she got to her feet and only said, “Thank you for your time.”
She stepped outside, but Jessica remained in the office to get Welling’s contact information from Kessler, something Faith had forgotten to do.
Turk patted next to Faith, looking up at her with concern. She smiled at him and said, “I’m okay, boy. I’m okay.”
She repeated that phrase a few more times. It didn’t stop feeling like a lie.