Streamline (47 page)

Firstie and plebe entered the ice queen’s lair.

As they stood at attention, Leo felt ripples of hostility emanating off the company officer. She certainly seemed witchy enough to be a murderess.

Lt. Keaton sauntered around her desk, holding a piece of paper.

“Company Commander Nevington, please look over this log and tell me what you see.”

There was silence as Nevington read it. “This is a log from twenty October of this year, for the small firearm storage unit, ma’am.” As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Leo’s stomach flipped with dread.

“That’s obvious, Ms. Nevington. Tell me whose rifle wasn’t logged in yesterday.”

“Aye, ma’am.” After scanning down the page, Nevington gave a little gasp and looked at him. “That would be Midshipman Scott’s rifle, ma’am.”

The lieutenant ripped the paper out of her hands and glided to her right, landing in front of Leo. She was much shorter than he, but clearly in charge.

Leo trembled.

“Captain Tracker ordered company officers to keep closer tabs on the weapon storage,” she explained. “Hence I’m here on my one day off, reviewing the logs. Midshipman Scott, when I discovered the absent notation by your name, I had the officer of the watch check the weapon storage. Curiously your rifle’s now back in place. What the
hell’s
going on?”

Leo hesitated. He searched for an answer that wouldn’t turn him into a snitch.

“Start talking now, Mr. Scott!”

“I-I-I was late to weapons storage, ma’am! It was locked, ma’am.” Her eyes blazed. “Why were you late?” A truthful response was definitely unwarranted. He opted for silence, which apparently wasn’t a wise choice either as she drew even closer. He could feel her hostility hovering between them.

Impending violence crackled in the air, and Leo recognized the threat in an instant. It had been quite a while since he’d been hit, and it almost felt comforting to await the beating. He’d broken a rule and needed to be punished. It was the natural order of things. However, this would be the first time he’d been hit by a woman.

The lieutenant’s voice was shrill. “Do you think you’re special, Mr. Scott? Do you think you’re above the rules?”

“No, ma’am!”

“Bull. You think you can do whatever you want. You think you can hurt people and just get away with it!”

“N-N-No, ma’am.” Who was
she
to tell him what he was thinking?

An image of Audrey’s father sitting handcuffed in that awful brig flashed through his mind: Mr. Rose’s sad eyes, Mrs. Rose’s forced cheerfulness about leaving Audrey for months on end, Audrey’s embarrassment about her father’s imprisonment. Was this woman responsible for al that pain? Had Lt. Keaton murdered Lt. Commander Walsh, only to hide out at the Academy in the aftermath?

Keaton’s breaths sounded ragged and shallow. “Scott, swear to God I’ll separate your from the Navy unless you tell me right now how that rifle got back into storage!” Leo’s heart raced. This murderer would
not
force him to rat out his peers. “You don’t want me here anyway, ma’am!”

“Mr. Scott!” Nevington reprimanded.

“You don’t want me to expose your secrets!” Leo shouted. “It’s all one giant setup to get rid of me!”

In a split second, the lieutenant delivered a walloping punch.

The blow glanced off of his cheekbone and threw his head to the side with a stab of pain. Then Leo felt Las Vegas’s hands on his elbows, steadying him to rejoin her at attention.

His rattled brain took a moment to come back online. If there’d been any doubt a woman of the lieutenant’s stature possessed the physical force to strangle Mr. Walsh, it disappeared with that punch.

Keaton seemed stunned. Her lips parted and her eyes froze, unblinking, as she inched back. Leo felt a trickle of warmth on his cheek and noticed the Academy ring on her hand. She’d cut him.

Leo fought to keep his impassive façade as inside he stewed with strategies for exposing her. He was determined to make things right for Audrey.

Groping for her desk, the lieutenant sank onto it, staring right through them with glassy eyes.

Nevington finally spoke. “May we be dismissed, ma’am?” Her head bobbed slowly. “Dismissed.”

They saluted, pivoted, and exited.

A few feet down the passageway, Nevington ordered Leo to halt and glided around to face him. “What the heck was going on back there?”

“I don’t know…I’ll find out, ma’am?”

“Right.” She exhaled. “You got that shiner from a wayward rifle butt during infantry drilling. You understand, Mr. Scott?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice sounded hollow.

“You don’t breathe a word of this to anyone while I figure it out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So much for stopping the drama, Mr. Scott. Let’s get back to our wing.”

Las Vegas took in the dark wood paneling and rich burgundy curtains of her quiet surroundings in the antechamber. She’d never visited the commandant’s office before, and she hoped this would be her only time.

A lieutenant nodded to her from his desk, and Viva rose to enter.

As she snapped to attention, her deep breath did nothing to quell her anxiety. She was quite possibly making a huge mistake, but Whiskey had agreed that she needed to come forward.

“Second Company Commander Viva Nevington reporting, sir.” Captain Sean Tracker rose and returned her salute.

Wow, he’s got to be at least six-seven
. Captain Tracker’s sharp green eyes appeared to miss nothing.

“At ease, Ms. Nevington,” he said. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before?”

“No, sir.” This was surreal.

“Well, I know you’re one of our best volleyball players, but I don’t know where you’re from.”

“Minnesota, sir.”

“Really.” He smiled. “We don’t get many northerners in the Navy.”

“It
is
the land of ten thousand lakes, sir.” Captain Tracker chuckled. “Oh yah, you betcha, Ms. Nevington.”

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at his poor imitation of the northern accent, though she did appreciate his attempt at humor.

“How’re you finding your duties as company commander?” She paused. “It’s been a mixed bag, sir. I’m quite honored to lead Second Company, but I often feel a bit overwhelmed — like I’m lost at sea, sir.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Ms. Nevington.” He winked. “I occasionally feel the same way as commandant. Now, what can I do for you today?”

“I’ve been deliberating all night whether to speak to you about this, sir, and I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds.” She hesitated.

“I need to report misconduct by my company officer, sir.”

“Lt. Keaton?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s a serious allegation, Ms. Nevington.”

“Yes, sir. That’s one of two reasons I hesitated in reporting to you.”

“And the other reason?”

“To be honest, making this report will get me in trouble, sir. I disobeyed an order, sir.”

The commandant looked intrigued. “Go on.”

“Yes, sir. Lt. Keaton called a plebe and me to her office last night, related to the log for the small firearm storage unit. The plebe hadn’t turned in his rifle on time on Saturday, and the lieutenant was furious.”

“Who is the plebe?”

“Midshipman Leo Scott, sir.”

“Hmmm…” He appeared thoughtful for a moment. “What happened, Ms. Nevington?”

Viva bit her lower lip. “Lt. Keaton struck Mr. Scott, sir.”

“She
struck
him?” His eyebrows traveled toward his hairline.

“Yes, sir. She…punched him in the face.” Viva let that information sink in, then added, “The plebe was behaving disrespectfully and deserved to be punished, but I didn’t think that was right, sir.”

“And how do these events implicate you in misconduct, Ms. Nevington?”

“I’d discovered Mr. Scott was late returning to quarters on Saturday night, sir. I issued five company tours, but I should’ve known his rifle was late as well. Lt. Keaton had ordered me to report any disciplinary problems with Mr. Scott directly to her, and I disobeyed that order.”

“Why is
that?”

“No excuse, sir.”

“I want to hear your reasoning, Ms. Nevington,” he demanded.

“Mr. Scott assaulted one of my squad leaders in July, sir. I took him to see the lieutenant, and her punishment seemed harsh — a straight twenty-four-hour march. Lt. Keaton also ordered him to attend counseling. On Saturday, Mr. Scott begged me not to report his tardiness to our company officer, and foolishly I gave in, sir.”

“I’m trying to figure out how the chain of command broke down like this when both you and Lt. Keaton seem like competent leaders.” He stroked his chin. “This Mr. Scott sounds like an interesting character. Ms. Nevington, is it your duty to decide whether a superior’s punishment is appropriate?”

“No, sir.”

“What was the consequence of disobeying your company officer?”

“We never got to that, sir. I guess Lt. Keaton and I were both sort of stunned after she hit the plebe, and we just stood there until I asked her if we could be dismissed.”

“How’d the plebe respond?”

“He seemed fine, sir…” She decided to forge ahead. “But just because he
looked
fine doesn’t mean he
was
fine.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“Sir, Mr. Scott has a history of being abused. His father, Commander Scott, beat him so badly last spring he had to have surgery. This makes the lieutenant’s behavior even more egregious, in my opinion, sir.”

“Ah. That’s why I recognized his name.” He rubbed his hand over his chin. “You did the right thing by coming forward, and I understand why you leap-frogged your company officer to make this report. I’ll address this issue with Lt. Keaton. Is Mr. Scott still attending counseling?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’ll be consequences for disobeying your company officer.

She’ll be in contact with you following my conversation with her.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But Midshipman Nevington, if Lt. Keaton attempts any sort of unfair retribution for your report today, I want to hear about it immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded. “Good luck against Army this weekend. You’re dismissed.”

Viva saluted and turned to rush down the passageway to her Monday morning class.
Would I love to be a fly on the wall for the
commandant’s meeting with the lieutenant…
Viva hoped she wouldn’t regret making that report.

Ina had been shooting curious glances Leo’s way since col ecting him from the waiting room, but she hadn’t asked him about his bruise. Yet. Now that they were in her office, she ordered him to sit as she crutched over to her desk and tried to yank open her drawer.

“Locked,” she grumbled, reaching across her desk. Then she seemed to realize he was watching her. “I want you to look away for a minute, Leo.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned away and heard her fumble for something, followed by the sound of a lock turning and the drawer sliding open.

“Eyes forward,” she ordered.

Leo watched from the corner of his eye as she stuck a chart between her teeth and crutched over to her chair, where she collapsed.

She leaned her crutches against the armrest and opened the chart.

“So, last week we talked again about how your brother Jason got engaged to Cameron, whose father was murdered. Your girlfriend Audrey’s father is in prison for the murder, but there’s some doubt about his guilt.”

She looked up from her notes, and he averted his eyes.
Would
she go into the gory details?

“And then you told me some things about your past.”
Apparently not.
He exhaled.

“How’s your week been?” Her voice was gentle.

“Fine, ma’am.”

“What happened to your face, Leo?”

“I collided with a wayward rifle butt during infantry drilling,” Leo dutifully reported.

“You’re a bad liar.”

How did she know?

“Do I have to order you to tell me the truth? Is that the only way you’ll answer my questions?”

“What do I do if I have conflicting orders, ma’am?” Leo asked, his voice uneasy.

“You were ordered to lie about how you got that bruise?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“By whom?”

“By my company commander, ma’am.”

Ina inhaled sharply. “Did you assault a superior again, Leo?”

“No, ma’am.”
More like a superior assaulted me.

“Did you behave aggressively in any way?” He ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am. I yelled. At a superior.”

“You’re getting good at that.”

He cringed. Why not keep the embarrassment going? He reached into his backpack and removed a bottle of pills. The little white tablets rattled around as he handed it to her, looking at the floor.

“As promised, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

He reached down into his bag again to extract a folded piece of paper. He handed that over as well.

“What’s this?”

“Benito thought it’d be a good idea. I guess he has an uncle who battled drug addiction or something.” Ina opened the paper and read aloud. “There should be twenty-one pills, ma’am. Signed, Benito Dulce.” She seemed to stifle a smile.