Chapter Eighteen #2
“It’s done. Let’s forget about it.” She steps out of the car, and I follow suit. As we walk along the path to my office, we’re quiet, Katie holding her chin high as the clip of her heels fills the silence between us.
◆◆◆
“Thank you for joining us. I take it you’re Disney?”
The soldier sits in his chair, shoulders pushed back, a stern expression on his face. “Yes, ma’am.” His Southern drawl is prominent. “Tyler Walters is my real name, but everyone around here calls me that.”
Katie smiles. She’s back in her full professional mode, and it’s somewhat of a relief not to be concerned that the man sitting across from us is going to reach out and hurt her. My office is a safe space, unlike the prison where we interviewed Connor Maddox.
Disney is the last of the five friends who were also at Skallywags the night of the murder. We have a few more soldiers on our list to interview, but they’re not part of Maddox’s immediate friend group.
“I don’t want to waste your time, Private. Can we get to the point of our interview?”
She’s asked this with most of them, a way to show that she respects them and their time.
It also breaks the ice. I watch quietly as Disney’s eyes are fixed on hers.
He sits tall on the couch, not letting his posture slip for a second.
Usually, it’s a place soldiers can come to relax.
It’s one of the few office buildings on the base that have been decorated this decade.
Something about the mustard color walls of the rest of the camp doesn’t really scream at soldiers to relax and talk about their feelings.
So the soft cream walls I’d painted one weekend after getting permission from the higher-ups are a welcome reprieve.
There are also a lot of plants, which, I’ll be honest, I’ve neglected since this case started.
“I’d appreciate that, ma’am. But I’d like to say something first, if that’s alright with you?”
“Of course.” She holds out her hand, inviting him to talk.
He steels himself, sucking in a deep breath.
“Maddox is one of the best people I’ve met.
He’s a good friend, a good man, and a good soldier.
He listens to his team, takes on board opinions, and steers us all in the right direction.
He is moving up the ranks, one of the youngest to reach where he has, and I know that pissed some people off.
But I can categorically tell you, there is no way, not a chance in goddamn hell that Connor Maddox did this. Pardon my language, ma’am.”
He blows out a breath, and his shoulders slump a fraction.
His uniform is immaculate, his belt buckle polished as if he’d taken extra care to make a good impression today.
His speech, littered with the same sentiments the other four men had expressed, with one key difference.
I’m sure Katie has already picked up on it because her tongue swipes across her lower lip as she shifts in her chair.
Interviews, I’ve learned from her, are about timing.
Asking the right question at the right time.
“Thank you. Your loyalty to your friend is shared by the others that we’ve spoken to today.”
“So you believe us? Maddox would never do this.”
“The police are still exploring every avenue, and Dr. Jones and I are still investigating our findings as well.”
He leans in, holding eye contact with Katie as he nods, as if she’s told him something irrefutable.
“You mentioned that not everyone was happy about Connor’s success. Can you tell me who?”
He withdraws, glancing toward me awkwardly.
“We do report to the police, but interviews such as these are used as supporting evidence to our assessment of Connor.” I intentionally use Maddox’s first name. “The person you’re referring to won’t find out you’ve spoken about them.”
The muscle in his jaw twitches. “I can’t tell you his name. I don’t want to risk it. But he was there that night when we were out celebrating Jarred’s birthday. You know it was more than just the six of us, right?”
“We’re aware there were some older soldiers out that night in Skallywags. But we’re not aware of their names,” I lie. I want to see if Disney will be honest with us and if his answers match up to what Connor told us at the prison. “Why are you afraid?”
“I’m not afraid,” he scoffs, flinching at the accusation.
“Okay, so why are you apprehensive about telling us?” I ask, knowing I need to pull back a little.
“They’re weird. The way they behave is . . . odd.”
“How so?” Katie joins in.
He shakes his head again as he looks out the window. “There’s something not right about them. They . . . they scare people.”
“People like you and your friends?”
He shrugs as if it bothers him to admit he’s scared of a colleague. But it’s not unheard of. There are plenty of people in the armed forces who seemingly snuck through the cracks of the rigid assessment process in basic training.
“They found out that Connor got promoted. Which is crazy in itself, because no one knew. It was a top-secret thing, and Connor swore us to secrecy. I don’t even know how they found out.”
I swallow the anticipation building in my throat. A few more words of encouragement, and this guy is going to spill his guts.
“And they weren’t happy about it?”
“They were furious. Kept saying that Connor had been fast-tracked because he had an in with one of the higher-ups. Which, no offense to Connor, is total bullshit. The guy is from butt-fuck nowhere Ohio. The guy doesn’t know anyone here except for his girlfriend, who he spent all his free time with.
“Can you give us a name?”
“Yeah, it's . . .” The sound of a fire alarm tearing through the office interrupts us as both Disney and I jump to our feet. Thick black smoke billows out from the Roosevelt building. First responders are already trying to tackle the blaze.
Katie watches out the window. We’re safe in this building, nowhere near the flames, but I still reach for her instinctively.
“We should head outside,” I say, indicating for Katie to collect her things.
“Permission to leave and assist, sir?” the young soldier asks, his shoulders pushed back, standing at attention.
“Granted. We’ll finish this later.”
He salutes, nods to Katie, and runs out of the room.
There are only two remaining interviews to go: Travis Marrs and Hunter Abrahams, who were also at Skallywags the night of the murder.
Travis is on a field exercise and is unavailable today.
I make a mental note to rearrange Abrahams’s interview once the fire alarms aren’t trying to bust my eardrums.
“Let’s head out,” I say, allowing Katie to move ahead of me. I place my hand on her lower back, feeling the warmth of her through the fabric. She tilts her head to face me, a stern expression on her face, but she says nothing.
I keep my hand on her the entire way to the car.