Chapter Two
Jonesy
My job as an army psychologist has given me a lot of things.
The army not only paid for my college education, but it also paid for me to complete my PhD in the field on active duty, providing treatment and relief to those actually fighting in a war zone.
The experiment of conducting treatment on those still in their stress zones wasn’t overly successful, but it gave the army enough evidence to show that communal support and pastoral care during active duty were just as important as treatment when soldiers got home.
Now that I am permanently based in Seattle, I work with all military bases, not just the army.
I’m settled here. Happy. And despite my eternal bachelor status, my family is here, my friends are here.
Hell, a defiant redhead she-devil, is here.
I couldn’t leave now, not when we’d finally had a breakthrough this weekend.
It’s been years since she did anything but scowl at me.
Not since my first tour, come to think of it.
Sure, we had a few hugs in the last six months, given the drama of Alfie and Mia’s relationship leading to her getting kidnapped by one of his patients.
But Katie would have hugged anybody in that moment.
I just happened to be there. Therefore, it doesn’t count.
“Come in.”
I open the door, stand to attention, my chest puffed out, chin raised, and salute. I expected it to just be the two of us, but the colonel is here too. As if on instinct, my chest puffs out even more.
“At ease, Major.”
I lower my hand, moving it to grasp my other palm behind my back and widen my stance. The army really did lock in these micro-movements.
The sergeant major sighs, flicking through papers on his desk.
“Thank you, sir.”
His eyes flit nervously between me, the papers, and the colonel. “Sit. This won’t take long. We have a new assignment for you.”
I quickly flick my attention to the colonel, and note he’s already studying me.
His gray eyes seem lifeless. Seen far too much shit, no doubt.
Most men who are lifers always have this look about them.
Dead from the nose up. Sure, they breathed, ate, fucked, but their eyes gave nothing away.
Nothing seemed to faze them because, with their forty-plus years in the military, they’d seen everything.
“There’s been an incident with a soldier off base.
He—” He nervously turns his attention to the colonel, who continues to keep his stony gaze fixed on me.
“He murdered someone last night. I hear it’s a clear-cut case and will probably need little intervention.
However, as it happens, a full psychological investigation will be conducted by the police, and we’ve insisted on having one done by one of our own. You.”
“Yes, sir,” I bark on instinct, despite feeling utterly bamboozled. A murder mystery was not on my bingo card for this year. In fact, it’s something that’s way more likely to be in the she-devil's jurisdiction. She is a forensic psychologist for the Seattle Police Department, after all.
Wait.
Surely she wouldn’t be the one on the case?
Sergeant Major Tilly shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
He’s always been a sort of nervous guy. His unfortunate surname gave him the nickname Silly Tilly behind his back after a series of blunders a few years ago, which led to Colonel Rogers surpassing him in rank.
Now he works for him, and by the looks of things, the colonel’s reign of terror is alive and well.
He has been fighting terrorists for years, so it seems he’s learned a few tricks.
With a thick swallow, Tilly continues. “We want this resolved quickly and quietly. As I’m sure you’re aware, there have been a few unsavory incidents in the media over the last twelve months.”
That is for damn sure. We had one soldier who was under investigation in a serial killer case.
We had privates returning from overseas tours and letting loose by aggravating locals, starting fights in bars, and generally being a nuisance.
Nuisance might be underplaying it. A photo was released of seven recruits with their pants down to their ankles, mooning a police station.
They had painted one letter on each of their butt cheeks, spelling out fuck the police.
They were deployed the next day, not to return for nine months.
The police were furious, the mayor was livid, and I’ll tell you, that old bastard had more of a stick up his ass than my friend Alfie.
The colonel was told to bring his soldiers into line, or he’d be shipped off to butt-fuck nowhere to end his career.
For a while, curfews were brought in with the solemn promise that if soldiers stepped out of line again, they’d be dishonorably discharged quicker than you can say BOHICA.
“Yes, sir. Do we know the soldier?”
“Yes. Connor Maddox, twenty-seven years old. From Ironvale, Ohio. No previous issues, no bar fights, no police incidents. He’s by all accounts an exemplary soldier who has risen quickly through the ranks. We had high hopes for him.”
Had.
They’ve already made the decision that he’s guilty.
The colonel slides a flattened palm down his uniform, removing a non-existent crease, and coughs lightly.
As if on cue, Tilly stiffens. “I must insist that you do everything within your power to move this under military control. We want to take over the case and try him in a military court where we can keep the extent of the fallout minimized.”
I glance at the colonel, who scrunches his lips so that his mustache rubs his nose. “Sir, surely that will be for a judge to decide?”
“The judge in question, Judge”—he glances down at the papers on his desk—“Washington. She has yet to be swayed either way and has agreed for us to participate in an investigatory fashion—hence your arrival. You’ll need to be persuasive and get the other psychologist on your side.
Allow her to be swayed, convinced. You’re a charming young man. I’m sure you’ll have no issues.”
“Her?” I swallow hard.
Please don’t say Katie. Please don't say Katie.
“Dr. Katherine Murphy. She’s around your age.”
My heart thumps against my chest. Katherine Murphy.
Killer of hearts for years. Unperturbed that her red hair has grown men growing hard in their pants just from looking at her.
She’s a siren, a menace, and if the higher-ups think I have a chance of convincing her of anything, it’s clear they’ve never met the woman.
“I know her,” I admit.
The colonel’s eyebrows shoot up, and his silent position finally breaks. “Will that be a problem?”
Only if she doesn’t take her usual approach when it comes to me, a swift tackle until I’m flat on my back, wheezing like a puffer fish trying to deflate. Maybe in a professional setting, it will just be cold, dead eyes or a middle finger when no one is watching.
“No, sir.” I lie to myself as much as to him. “The psychological community is a small one. That’s all.”
“How do you know each other?”
Well, aside from the fact that I woke up in bed with her yesterday morning?
We were best friends until I left for active duty, and since then, I’ve been terrorizing her for eight years, and she’s been giving as good as she's got. This is going to be a goddamn nightmare. There was no way I could convince Katie to do anything. I couldn’t even trick her into doing anything; she knows every weapon in my arsenal.
We’d been outmaneuvering each other for years.
We’d been playing with each other for years.
Pushing each other’s buttons, hurting each other just enough to sting but not enough to cause an actual rift in our friendship group, who were all probably sick of our shit.
Despite my sudden urge to lie again to my superiors, I don’t.
Best to be upfront and hope that they choose someone else to take on this investigation.
Even though a small part of me would love to see the look on her face when she realizes she’ll have to spend an indefinite period of time with me.
We could really take our rivalry to the next level.
“We went to college together. We both studied at Elwood, and we have a monthly meetup with mutual friends from our PhD program who have stayed in touch with each other.”
“Will this be a problem for you to conduct your investigation?” the colonel asks, seemingly taking over this meeting now.
“No, sir.”
“You and this woman are friends?”
I pause at the bristling in his tone when he says this woman. It irks me, and I can’t work out why. “We’re not close. I only see her once a month for dinner club.”
I convince myself that it isn’t technically a lie.
Katie and I don’t talk outside of our monthly meetup.
We don’t even text. To be honest, I don’t think she thinks much of me at all until I’m walking through the threshold of Lottie’s house and she’s starkly reminded she’s in for an evening of snippy jibes, heavy pours, and an eventual race to the one good bedroom.
I, on the other hand, relish the anticipation of our meetings.
Once a month isn’t nearly enough, and on the odd occasion we have an additional evening to look forward to, the days before drag, and I can’t think of anything but seeing her again.
He gruffs, running his thumb and forefinger over his mustache.
“The chief of police is expecting you at ten hundred hours. The officers will be conducting their initial interview, and you can meet Miss Murphy. We’ll all be attending.”
I clench my jaw, forcing my mouth shut as he calls her “Miss” and not “Doctor.” Why do I suddenly feel the need to defend her? She’s not my girlfriend. Sometimes it feels like we’re not even friends. Not in any real sense of the word. Despite our long history.
Tilly slaps his hands together, rising from his chair. “Let’s get moving.”
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