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The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgetown

Last time on JAG…

“Yes, Sir,” Harm responds. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. We’ll finish our report this afternoon and FAX it to you ASAP.” Harm listens as the admiral continues. “Yes, we’ll have the major with us…No, Sir, I’m sure she’ll accept a deal…Aye, aye, Sir.” Harm hangs up the receiver.

“I guess you heard we need to be on the morning COD,” Harm says to Mac. She nods.

Harm is on the phone: ”Commander, this is the CAG. Your flight out of here is canceled due to bad weather in Naples,” Colonel Burton tells him. “The COD couldn’t take off this morning and it’s doubtful the afternoon COD will make it in either. We’re also expecting a storm cell from the southern Atlantic to hit us around 1300. So you may as well settle in for at least another day and a half.”

Mac stumbles forward into Harm’s chest as the carrier makes a sharp turn to starboard…“What was that?”

Harm’s arms instinctively go around her. “I’m not sure. The CAG said something about an approaching storm cell. Maybe we’ve turned to avoid it.”

0519 Zulu (0619 Local)
USS Thomas Jefferson
The Legal Office

“I hate storms, Harm,” Mac replies breathlessly, holding tightly to the front of Harm’s khaki shirt. “Something bad always seems to happen.”

~~~~“All hands—this is the captain—all non-essential personnel remain in your quarters…two storm cells are about to converge on us…we’re in for a rocky ride…I’ll keep you updated.”~~~~

Harm glances up at the PA speaker from which the captain’s voice just came and back down at Mac, “Well, so much for our tour.”

“Harm, I’m scared,” Mac whispers as thunder can be heard.

Harm tightens his arms around her. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m here…I’ll keep you safe,” he says. “You believe that, right?”

She nods as the ship begins to pitch and roll. Her eyes widen in fear.

Harm widens his stance to keep himself and Mac steady and upright. “Perhaps we ought to climb into my bunk. It’s probably safer to be off our feet.” They make their way over to the double bunk. Harm climbs in first, maneuvering into the corner and patting the space right in front of him. Mac settles into the vee of his legs and he wraps his arms around her waist. “Better?” he asks.

“Mm hmm,” she intones. “Mic would be livid if he knew about this.”

“Well, I guess this is something we keep to ourselves,” Harm says. “As is that kiss. Mac, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Harm, don’t even go there,” Mac replies. “I already told that I wasn’t sorry about it and that’s something I’ve got to learn to live with.”

“Why, Mac?”

“Why what, Harm?”

“Why aren’t you sorry?”

“Because that’s the first time you really kissed me—me, Harm—not some ghost,” she says. “I could feel—HEY! Why did the lights go out, Harm?”

“I’m not sure, Mac, the emergency lights should come on soon,” he gives her a reassuring squeeze just as the weak beam flickers on. “See, that’s better, huh?”

Mac nods, “Harm, how long will we be locked down here, waiting out this storm?”

“It’s hard to say, Marine,” Harm tells her. “It could be awhile.”

“How long is awhile…give me a ball park figure,” she requests.

“Upwards of twenty-four to thirty-six hours,” he guesses.

“Great,” she says sarcastically.

“Well, do you have somewhere else you’d rather be?” Harm asks.

“Actually, Harm, no,” Mac sighs. “There’s no where else I’d rather be, despite the fact that I’m out in the middle of the Atlantic on a ship caught between two storm cells.”

“Not even at home, in your warm bed with…” Harm can’t bring himself to say Mic’s name.

1245 Zulu (0745 EDT)
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

“Admiral…the commander and the colonel are here to see you, Sir,” Tiner announces through the intercom.

“Send them in, Tiner,” the admiral responds. Harm and Mac enter his office and stand at attention in front of his desk. “At ease, have a seat. I’m glad to see you two made it back in one piece.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Harm says for them both. Mac nods in agreement and smiles at the admiral.

“Nice work on that investigation, by the way. Commander, I want you to handle the case from here,” Admiral Chegwidden says. “You have the files, right?” He glances at Harm over the top of his glasses. Harm nods. “Good, good…Colonel, so how did you enjoy that ride?”

“Well, Sir, I was just thankful that Commander Rabb was there to talk me through it,” she says soberly. The admiral looks at her. “I hate storms, Sir, and the commander did an excellent job of keeping my mind off the rolling seas and the booming thunder.” The admiral just continues to look at her. “Sir?…Admiral, is something wrong?”

“What? Huh? No…” the admiral shakes his head to clear the fog. “I’m sorry, Colonel, I was just remembering the good old days at sea.” Harm and Mac exchange an amused glance. “So—where was I? Besides in Never-Never Land?” he asks, sorting through the file folders on his desk. “Oh, right…Colonel, you’ll be investigating the death of Lance Corporal MacReynolds. Colonel…”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Heads up…she was four months pregnant,” the admiral says kindly. Mac nods. “Dismissed.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” Mac replies as she and Harm stand at attention before turning and leaving the admiral’s office.

Mac sits at her desk, contemplating the dead lance corporal and her baby. She is startled out of her reverie by the ringing of her telephone. She stares at it a moment before picking it up, “Colonel MacKenzie.” She gets no response. “Hello? Is anyone there?” She still gets no answer, so she shrugs and places the receiver back in its cradle.

“Hey, Mac?” Harm sticks his head into her office. “You want to head down to Quantico with me? I’ve got to go talk to Major Johnson in the brig and I figured since you had to head down there for your investigation, we could go together.”

“Sure, that’ll be fine,” she offers him a small smile. “When?”

“In about 45 minutes,” he says, checking his watch.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other stretched across the seat backs, Harm rubs Mac lightly on her shoulder with his fingers. “Hey, you okay?” he asks her.

She shrugs and continues to look out her window at the drizzle, “I was just wondering why someone would want to kill a pregnant woman.”

“How do you know she was murdered?” he asks. “The admiral didn’t say anything about murder.”

“No, he didn’t,” Mac replies. “I just have this gut feeling.”

“Getting a little worked up about this aren’t you?” Harm asks. “What’s going on with you? You don’t even know for sure she was murdered. She could have committed suicide.”

“Why would she commit suicide, Harm, at four and half months along?” Mac snaps. “If she had wanted to commit suicide, she would have done it a lot sooner.”

“Hey…hey…I’m sorry, okay?” Harm shrugs and puts his right hand on the steering wheel.

“No…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bit your head off,” she replies, patting his arm. “It’s just that after what happened to Bud and Harriet last year and what happened to—“ She looks at Harm with big eyes and slaps her hand over her mouth realizing what she was about to say.

Harm looks over at her. “Is there something you want to talk about?” he asks. “You know I’m here for you, but if this case is going to be too hard on you, then perhaps you should call the admiral and ask if you can pass it onto someone else.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m a marine, right? I’ll just suck it up and do my job,” she says with a decisive nod. The sound of the 1812 Overture fills the car. “I wonder who that could be,” Mac comments as she reaches down into her briefcase to grab her cell phone. “Hello…who’s there?” She gets no answer and presses the ‘end’ button. “That’s bizarre.”

“What’s bizarre?” Harm asks.

“That’s the second call I’ve gotten today where no one answered when I came on the line,” she tells Harm.

1630 Zulu (1130 EDT)
Marine Brig
Quantico Marine Corps Base

“Have a seat, Major,” Harm offers.

“Thank you, Sir,” Major Johnson accepts, taking a seat.

Harm sits across from her at the round table in the small office. “How are you holding up?” he asks, referring to the death of her lover and partner in crime.

“I’m okay, Sir. Thanks for asking,” she replies. “What’s next?”

“Well, you need to decide if you want to accept the government’s offer or stand trial,” Harm tells her.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll take a deal, Sir,” the major says. “I know I was in the wrong and I don’t really have a credible defense. I’m sure a panel won’t accept a woman-in-love plea.” Harm chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

“I said something along those lines to Colonel MacKenzie and she hit me,” Harm explains, rubbing his arm as if it still hurt. “The government is offering a dishonorable discharge and 18 months confinement.”

“Eighteen months?” she asks, surprised. “Why so long?”

“Well, maximum confinement for fraternization is two years, so you’re actually lucky as far as that goes,” Harm explains. “Instead of officially charging you with anything else, the government is stipulating the longer end of the sentence curve and you’ll probably have to serve most of that time. They might offer you parole for good behavior after twelve to fifteen months.”

The major stares out the barred window for a moment before looking back at Harm and nodding her acceptance of the government’s offer. “Thank you, Sir,” she says.

“For what, Major?”

“For being nice to me,” she says. “I really appreciate it.” Harm offers her a smile and a nod.

1645 Zulu (1145 EDT)
Morgue
Boyington Med Center

“Commander Blaney, can you tell me the cause of death?” Mac asks the chief medical examiner.

“Well, Colonel, she died of carbon monoxide poisoning,” the pathologist says, flipping through his file. “She was found in her car inside the garage. The engine was still running.”

“Were there any signs of the victim being bound?” Mac questions.

“What do you mean?” asks the commander.

“I mean, were there any marks on her wrists or ankles indicating that she had been tied up?” Mac explains impatiently.

“No, Colonel. This appears to be a case of suicide,” he says.

Mac shakes her head. “I don’t think so, Commander,” she says. “I’ll be back.”

“Her body is scheduled to be released to her family tomorrow,” the commander tells her. “You better come back before 1300.”

“I don’t think so, Commander,” she gets in his face. “Her remains are now part of a murder investigation. You hold that body until I say so. You got that?”

“Sheesh, Colonel, calm down,” the doctor remarks. “I’ll notify the family. When do I tell them they can pick her up?”

“I don’t know yet, Commander, I’ll let you know,” Mac says and leaves the morgue.

1730 Zulu (1230 EDT)
Marine Brig
Quantico Marine Corps Base

“I’m Colonel MacKenzie with the JAG Corps,” Mac tells the sergeant on duty at the main desk. “I’d like to speak to whomever recovered the body of Lance Corporal MacReynolds.”

“That would be Corporal Pemberton,” says Sergeant Kenseth. “He’s not on duty today, Ma’am.” Mac glares at the sergeant. “But I could call him, Ma’am, and ask him to come down.”

“You do that, Sergeant,” she says sternly and begins pacing the small foyer. Mac listens as the sergeant makes the call, explaining to the corporal why he was needed and who was expecting his presence, ASAP.

“Ma’am, the corporal will be here in ten minutes,” Sergeant Kenseth reports.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” she replies, taking a seat in one of the vinyl coated chairs. Mac glanced up at the clock and watched the slowly moving second go around and around, transporting her back in time…

1992

0535 Zulu (1435 Local)
US Naval Hospital Okinawa
Okinawa, Japan

“Lieutenant MacKenzie, will you please follow me?” the naval nurse called into the small waiting room. She led Mac to an even smaller office. “If you’ll have a seat, Captain Stockton will be with you shortly.”

Mac took the proffered seat and crossed her legs. She looked about the doctor’s office at the different posters depicting the development of an unborn baby, the importance of pre-natal vitamins, and one from Aruba. Mac wiped the moisture from her eyelids.

“There are some tissues behind you,” Captain Stockton said kindly as she entered her office. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant, I guess you’ve figured out that you are pregnant…about two and a half months along.”

Mac nodded as the tears began to stream in earnest down her cheeks. “How did this happen, Captain?” she asked. “I’ve been on the pill for seven years.”

“The only guarantee against pregnancy is abstinence, Lieutenant. Even the pill is not fool proof,” replied the doctor. “I’m going to give you a prescription for pre-natal vitamins and I want you to make an appointment for a check-up in a month, okay?”

Mac just nodded.

“Sarah, what’s wrong?” asked Captain John Farrow, Mac’s commanding officer and secret lover. He sat on the floor beside where she lay on his couch. “You’ve been quiet all evening.”

Mac had gone to John’s place, just as she did every Friday. He lived off base, while she lived on base.

“John, we have a little problem,” she began, tears threatening once again. “I’m not sure how to tell you…”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re pregnant?” he asked.

She sat up quickly and looked at him with surprised eyes, “How did you know that? I only found out today.”

“It’s written all over you, Sarah,” he remarked with a smile. “You’re a little rounder in several areas and, believe it or not, your appetite has increased.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“Would you have believed me?”

“I doubt it,” she replied. “Well, now what? And before you propose, I am not getting married for the sake of the child.”

“That’s your choice, but you know what that means, don’t you?”

“Oh, god…” the tears started falling. “Separation?”

John nodded. “I’m sorry, Sarah, I’m in the unenviable position of having to administratively discharge you from the Marine Corps,” he says regretfully. “I’ve already compromised my command by risking this relationship with you, but I can hide it. You won’t be able to hide your pregnancy past another month, two at the most. I’m not going to have a choice.” John got up the couch and gathered her into his arms as she sobbed. “I’m sorry, Sarah, I wish it were different,” he cooed in her ear. “You understand, don’t you?”

Present day

Sergeant Kenseth gets up to speak with Mac, but is stopped in his tracks by the sight of her staring at the clock with tears running her face. He silently retreats and leaves her to her thoughts.

1992

(one month later)

0215 Zulu (1115 Local)
Captain Farrow’s office
Camp Butler, Okinawa, Japan

“Are you all right, Ma’am?” asked a young private first class, rushing over to Mac’s side. Mac was doubled over, clutching her abdomen. The private helped Mac slip to the floor and propped her up against the desk.

“Get the captain,” Mac whispered. “Hurry!”

Within thirty seconds, John was tearing through the office. “Sarah, what’s wrong?” he asked, noticing her hands pressed against her belly. ”Private, clear out this office, ASAP and call the hospital to send an ambulance!” The private did as she was bid and within another thirty seconds, the office was empty, except for Mac and John. He sat next to her on the floor and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “It’s the baby, isn’t it?” She nodded. “It’s going to be okay,” he reassured her.

This time, she shook her head. “It’s too late,” she whispered and pointed down to the carpet underneath her. She sat in a puddle of blood. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” she chanted over and over as the tears continued to fall.

Present day

Harm walks into the brig foyer from a door opposite of where Mac sits staring at the clock. He starts when he notices her. She has her arms wrapped around herself and she is rocking back and forth, whispering she is sorry as the tears roll down her face. He walks over to her slowly and kneels down beside her. “Mac…Mac…are you okay?” he gently places his hand on her knee.

“I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry for what, Mac?” Harm asks.

“I’m sorry…I lost our baby…”

Harm is stunned as he digests what she just said. Knowing it’s not really “their” baby, he wonders just whose baby it was.

“Sergeant,” Harm walks over to the desk. “Can you please call VOQ and arrange quarters for Colonel Sarah MacKenzie with the JAG Corps?”

“Yes, Sir. Is there anything else I can do?” Sergeant Kenseth asks.

“How long has she been like that?” Harm asks.

“She’s only been here about fifteen minutes. She wanted to talk with Corporal Pemberton and she was waiting until he arrived,” Kenseth tells Harm. “She sat down to wait and the next thing I know she’s spaced out. I was going to offer her some water or something, but I didn’t want to disturb her. My brother use to sleep walk and the doctor told us it was always chancy to wake someone up, so that’s why I didn’t want to scare her.”

“Thank you, sergeant,” Harm says and walks back over to Mac. “Hey, Mac, are you okay?” he asks softly, kneeling down again. “Mac, I need you to wake up.”

“I’m sorry…” she says once more.

“Mac,” he says a little more firmly and shakes her knee back and forth.

She stops rocking and looks down at Harm’s hand on her leg. She blinks a few times and looks at him. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the brig at Quantico, remember?” Harm sits beside her. “Do you remember anything?”

She nods slowly, her dream coming back to her, and realizing her face is wet, wipes angrily at her cheeks. “I can’t believe I’m crying. I need to speak with Corporal Pemberton. Is he here, yet?”

Harm shakes his head, “Mac, why we don’t we put the questioning on hold until tomorrow? I had the sergeant arrange quarters at the VOQ.”

“I’m fine, Harm,” she says, a bit agitated. She stands and smoothes her skirt. “I’m fine. I can talk to the corporal first. I can do my job.”

“Ma’am, I’m Corporal Pemberton. Are you looking for me?” asks the stocky soldier.

“Yes, I am, Corporal,” Mac says crisply, trying to shake off her melancholia. “I have a couple questions about when you found Lance Corporal MacReynolds. Is there someplace we can talk?”

“Yes, Ma’am, there’s an interview room just down the hall,” he says, walking toward the corridor.

“You can go, Harm,” she says.

“Uh, uh, not a chance,” he replies shaking his head and pointing at her. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“What led you to the discovery of the body, Corporal?” Mac asks after she’s taken a seat opposite the corporal at the tiny table.

“A co-worker had gone by her house to check on her as she didn’t show up for duty that morning,” he explains. “A Corporal Smith called here to say that he heard a car running in the garage, but that when he called out, there was no answer.” Mac jots down shorthand notes as the corporal continues, “Private First Class Martin and I responded to the call. When we arrived, we broke the glass on the front door and let ourselves in. We headed straight for the garage and found the lance corporal in the back seat.”

“And she wasn’t tied up or bound in any way?” Mac asks.

“No, Ma’am,” he replies. “It was kind of strange though, she was still in her pajamas.”

“And at what time did you find the body?” she queries.

“It was about 1015, Ma’am,” the corporal answers.

“Could you tell she was pregnant?”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am, there was no mistaking that.”

“How long do you think she had been out there, Corporal?” Mac asks.

“Several hours at least, she was pretty stiff,” Corporal Kenseth remarks.

“Did you look for a note?” Mac asks.

“Excuse me, Ma’am?” the corporal shakes his head, not understanding.

“A suicide note,” she explains. “Generally, people who commit suicide leave a note.”

“I didn’t see one, Colonel,” the corporal says. “But I only took a cursory glance around her quarters to determine that there was no foul play. Nothing was disturbed, so I assumed she took her own life and I called the morgue.”

“Thank you, Corporal,” Mac finishes her notes. “I don’t believe she killed herself. Will you please arrange to have her quarters cordoned off and designated as a crime scene?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he answers.

“That’ll be all,” she says and stands, preceding him out the door.

“Are you still here?” Mac asks Harm as she emerges from the hallway. “I thought I told you that you could leave.”

“Yeah, well, since when do I ever listen to you?” Harm returns teasingly.

“Harm, I’m fine, you don’t have to baby-sit me,” she argues.

“Can we discuss this someplace else?” he asks, under his breath, indicating the two marines standing at the desk with a nod of his head.

“Fine,” Mac says and turns on her heel and walks out the door. She gets into the Navy car and waits for Harm to get in.

“Are you hungry?” Harm asks, checking his watch. “We could get something to eat before I drop you off at the VOQ.”

“No, I’m not hungry,” she replies stiffly. “I need to go to Lance Corporal MacReynold’s quarters and look around.”

“Can’t that wait?”

“No, it can’t. I’m telling you, Harm, she was murdered,” Mac says. “I also need to talk with her supervisor and her co-workers. I wonder who the father was.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Don’t you have your own case to work on?” she asks. “I told you, I don’t need a baby-sitter.”

“My case is pretty much wrapped up. Major Johnson accepted the government’s offer without any changes,” Harm explains. “By the time I got back to JAG, the workday would be over. I may as well stay and help you, right? Two heads are better than one and four eyes are better than two.” He looks over at her. “Mac…seriously…something major happened to you back in the brig. I’m not asking to know what is was, but just let me stick close for a while, okay? You really worried me. I’ll let you call the shots.”

“All right, fine,” she gives in, secretly relieved to have him close by. “The lance corporal lived in housing…35 John Glenn Drive.”

Mac steps over the broken glass still littering the tile in the small entrance hall.

Harm follows her in, “I’ll look around down here if you want to go upstairs.”

Mac nods and heads up the stairs.

Mac catches her breath at the sight of partially put together crib in the smaller of the two bedrooms. She steps in and looks around at the stacked boxes, some with baby clothes hanging out of them. On the dresser is a baby book. Mac flips it open and reads: Kelsey Danielle MacReynolds. Looking around again she spots a rocking chair in the corner with a beautiful baby blanket in progress draped across the arm. “This woman did not kill herself,” Mac whispers to herself.

In the lance corporal’s room, Mac begins opening drawers looking for letters or a diary…anything that might give her a clue as to who wanted this woman dead. Marine Corps regulations sure had changed in the last nine years. Now, instead of discharging them, the Corps even provided housing to unmarried pregnant soldiers.

Mac uncovered some letters in one of the bed table drawers. She pulls them out and reads the first one: Dear Makenna, I am so excited about becoming an aunt for the first time. I hope you find the baby clothes useful. If you ever need anything, you know I’m just a phone call away. Love, Sophie. Mac made a mental note to get Sophie’s phone number.

After determining that all the other letters were also from Sophie, Mac tucks them back in the drawer. She walks around to the other bed table and opens the drawer. “Now, we’re getting somewhere…I hope,” she says to herself as she pulls out a worn Bible and what looks like a diary. She flips it open to the first page. The last entry is dated only two weeks ago. That means there are more diaries somewhere.

Mac opens the closet door. On one side of the small walk-in are the lance corporal’s clothes. Uniforms are lined up across the top bar; her civilian clothes hang across the bottom. Her shoes are lined up along the shelf. Across from her clothes are storage containers, all meticulously marked with their contents.

After peeking into a couple of ambiguously labeled containers, Mac finds what she is looking for. “Bingo,” she says and pulls the container from its stack. She drags it to the bedroom door and calls for Harm. She marks his progress up the stairs by the sound his shoes make on the wooden stairs.

“What do you need, Mac?” he asks peeking his head into the room.

“Can you carry this down to the car for me?” she points at the box.

“What’s in there?” he asks, lifting it easily.

“Old letters and diaries,” Mac replies. “I am hoping that there will be some clues in there somewhere as to the baby’s father and to who would have wanted Makenna MacReynolds dead.” She follows him down the stairs and out to the car. “I’m going to ask the neighbor a few questions. I’ll just be a few more minutes, okay?” Harm nods, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Mac knocks on the neighbor’s door. She hears a young child call for its momma.

“Hello?” asks a pretty redheaded woman. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Colonel MacKenzie. I’m investigating the death of your neighbor, Lance Corporal MacReynolds,” Mac explains. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

“Sure, although I don’t think I can tell you much,” the woman says. “By the way, my name’s Allison Busch.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Busch,” Mac smiles. “Did Lance Corporal MacReynolds have any men friends that came around?”

“Well, not that I noticed,” she answers. “Makenna had only been living here about a month and half or so. Oh, wait…I did see this guy once. Overheard them arguing, too. Housing doesn’t have the thickest walls, you know. I never saw him again, though.”

“Is there anything else you can remember?” Mac asks.

“No, not off the top of my head,” she shakes her head.

Mac takes a business card out of her jacket pocket, “If you remember anything, would you please give me a call?” The woman nods and closes the door as Mac walks back to the car.

“Anything?” Harm asks as she gets in. She shakes her head as he starts the engine and heads back toward the main part of the base and the VOQ.

2017 Zulu (1517 EDT)
Mac’s room in the VOQ
Quantico Marine Corps Base, Virginia

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around?” Harm asks, cover in hand.

“I’ll be fine, Harm,” Mac moves him toward the door. “I’m going to have a hot bath and then cuddle up in the bed and read through the lance corporal’s diaries to see if I can find any clues. Tell the admiral I’ll call sometime tomorrow morning.”

“All right…I’ll see you later,” he says, opening the door and finally taking his leave.

Mac opens the plastic storage container and pulls out a stack of the diaries. After grabbing a small pad of Post It Notes and a pen, she opens each book and checks the date of the first entry, then numbers the books so that she can read them in order. Mac decides to start reading two months prior to the lance corporal’s pregnancy. Hopefully, there will be some entries regarding the baby’s father. Her gut is telling her that he is the prime suspect.

Propping one pillow up against the wall, Mac climbs into the bed to begin her research. Deciding that one pillow is not enough to cushion the hardness of the headboard, she reaches over to grab the other pillow. While doing so, Mac has a flashback of the lance corporal’s room.

**The bed clothes were pretty messy…as if there had been a struggle; one of the pillows was at the end of the bed…as if tossed aside…**

Now, given the immaculate state of the lance corporal’s closet, Mac could only assume that, if she had, indeed, committed suicide, the lance corporal would have made her bed and gotten dressed first. She knew it was circumstantial evidence…however, Mac is suddenly struck with the thought that Makenna MacReynolds had been suffocated before she was placed in her running vehicle. Why hadn’t the autopsy revealed this? Since surely, if that had been that case, there would be little or no carbon monoxide in her blood.

Mac makes a mental note that the first order of business tomorrow is to go back to the morgue and talk to that pathologist, Commander Blaney. She glances up at the ceiling as thunder rumbles across the sky.

She settles her pillows and begins reading. If her theory is correct, she’d need a name and a motive to give to the Virginia authorities.

1245 Zulu (0745 EDT)
Morgue
Boyington Med Center

Mac knocks firmly on Commander Blaney’s office door and enters when she hears him call out for her to do so.

“Good morning, Commander,” says Mac with all the kick-ass-marine, don’t mess with me attitude she can muster.

Commander Blaney reacts accordingly. “G-good morning, C-colonel,” he stammers. “What can I do for you so early in the morning?”

“How much carbon monoxide did you find in Lance Corporal MacReynold’s blood?” she asks.

“What?” he asks.

“How much carbon monoxide did you find in the victim’s blood?” she asks again.

“W-well, I don’t know, Colonel, there was no toxicology report because I didn’t perform an autopsy,” the commander says. “There was no evidence to suggest she died from anything other than that, so there was no point.”

“I believe that Lance Corporal MacReynolds was suffocated prior to her being placed inside her vehicle,” Mac informs the commander. “I need you to perform an autopsy and I need you to do it now. Is there going to be a problem? ‘Cause if there is, I can contact my CO, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden—the Judge Advocate General.”

“No…no problem, Colonel,” Commander Blaney shakes his head. “I’ll begin the procedure within thirty minutes and will be finished in approximately four hours.”

“All right,” Mac nods and hands him her business card. “Please call me on my cell phone with your findings.”

Mac heads back to her room in the VOQ to call the admiral and finish reading the lance corporal’s diaries before returning them to her quarters. As she walks back to the VOQ, she experiences a cold chill. Glancing quickly around and rubbing her arms, she doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“Yes, Sir,” Mac responds. “The pathologist is performing the autopsy now. I believe she was suffocated before being placed in her car. I’ve been reading her diaries to find out the name of her baby’s father. I think he was the one who killed her.”

“Good work, Colonel,” the admiral says. “When can I expect you back?”

“The autopsy should be finished around 1230,” she tells him. “It’ll probably be another hour and a half till I’m on the road; by the time I talk with the pathologist and notify the Virginia authorities. That should get me back to DC by 1600. Do you want me to come in to the office?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he says. “Go on home and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” Mac says and hangs up.

1909 Zulu (1409 EDT)
I-95 north bound
Virginia

Mac glances up large ominous clouds sailing across the darkening sky. She sighs. Just what she needs after the emotional upheaval she’d gone through the past couple of days…a huge storm was moving in. Hopefully, she’d beat the worst of it home and be warm and snug in her own bed before it got too bad.

She looks in the rearview mirror of her rented car and notices a grey sedan about three car lengths behind her. Turning on the radio for company, Mac continues to monitor the weather. The clouds keep getting darker although the rain has not yet begun to fall.

As she prepares to merge from I-395 onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway, Mac glances in her mirrors and again notices the gray car. She tries speeding up and changing lanes several times, but the car continues to follow her. Mac grabs her cell phone to call the police, but it’s dead.

“Damn,” she says out loud. “Okay, Mac think. What are your options? Drive to the office? No, you’ve already gone past the exit,” she dismisses that option due to the weather. “Go to Mic’s? No, he’s still out of town. Go to Harm’s? No, he’s probably still at work. Of course, if I go home, I can get my gun.” She looks for the car once again, but not seeing it, she breathes a sigh of relief, “I guess I’m just over-reacting too much.”

The rain begins to fall, finally, as she exits the freeway and makes her way into her neighborhood. Pulling up in front of her apartment, Mac kills the engine and grabs her stuff. Unable to shake off her uneasiness, she hurries inside. A sharp crack of lightning follows a long loud rumble of thunder. The lights in the hallway flicker, intensifying her agitation.

Mac finally reaches her door and takes a deep breath to steady her hand as she slides the key in the lock. Once inside, she shuts the door quickly and locks the dead bolt. She heads straight for her room, and without turning on any lights, changes out of her uniform into something more comfortable, and grabs her 9-millimeter, slipping it into the waistband of her jeans. Lightning flashes several times, illuminating the room.

She tiptoes to the window and peers out, watching as a car comes to a stop across the street. When no one gets out, Mac heads for the phone.

“Harm—“ Mac whispers loudly into the phone.

“Mac, what’s wrong?” Harm asks worriedly.

“Can you come over?” she asks. “I think there’s someone watching my apartment.”

“Do you have your weapon?” he asks.

“Of course, I do,” she says impatiently. “I’m a ma—“

“Marine...I know. Just checking,” Harm says. “I’ll be there as fast as I can. Sit tight.”

As the storm grows steadily worse, Mac grows steadily more nervous. As she waits for Harm and listens to the thunder boom and the rain fall, Mac imagines that she hears all sorts of unnatural noises. She jumps as she hears her doorknob rattle and grabs her pistol from her waistband.

“Mac!” Harm calls through the door. “It’s me…let me in.”

“Thank god,” Mac says, getting up and going to the door. “What took you so long?”

“Don’t turn on the light, yet,” Harm says by way of a greeting. “I drove down the street first. There’s a grey car parked across the street.”

“There was a grey car following me from Quantico,” she tells him. “It got off three exits before mine, so I figured I was being paranoid.”

“Whoever it is knows where you live, Mac,” Harm deduces. “I parked around back. I’m going to lay low. You turn on the lights and go on about your business. See if we can’t lure this creep.”

Harm finds a corner and has a seat as Mac’s phone begins to ring.

She flips on the table lamp and answers the phone, “Hello?”

“Hello, Sarah,” says a distorted voice. “I’ve missed you.”

“Who is this?” Mac yells, knowing, even as she asks, to whom the voice belongs. “You bastard!” She slams the receiver down.

“Who was it?” Harm asks as his cell phone begins ringing. He yanks it open, “Rabb!”

“Commander—where the hell are you?” the admiral demands. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“I’m at Colonel MacKenzie’s apartment, Sir,” Harm tells him.

“Thank God!” the relief evident in the admiral’s voice. “Stay with her.”

“What’s up, Sir?” Harm asks.

“I just got a call from the DC police…Coster escaped from USP Lewisburg sometime yesterday,” the admiral reveals. “The police are sending a couple of cars. Stay with her and shoot to kill if it comes to that.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” Harm slaps the phone shut. “Damn.”

“Coster,” they say together.

“Coster’s out, Mac,” Harm didn’t know of any other way to tell her, other than flat out.

“Oh, my god, Harm,” Mac whispers in fear, grabbing his arm in a death grip.

“I’m sorry, Mac. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that,” he attempts to undo her claws from his arm. “Can you let go here?”

“Sorry…sorry…what am I going to do, Harm?” she asks.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Harm asks. She nods. “Have I ever let you down?” This time she shakes her head. “Okay, then…the police are on their way. Until then, you go about your business as if nothing is wrong. I’m here to cover your six.”

“Right…okay,” she takes a deep breath. “I’m bait again, right?” Harm nods. “How about dinner? I’ll make something to eat.” She heads for the kitchen and decides on a frozen dinner. After taking it out of the box and removing the plastic film cover, Mac places it in the microwave.

Mac jumps as several bolts of lightning flash across the black sky, accompanied by their respective sharp cracks as the electricity splits the air, and followed by thunder as loud as a sonic boom. Not five seconds later, the power goes out. The apartment is left in pitch-blackness.

“Harm,” she calls out, the fear obvious.

“I’m right where you left me,” he responds. “Just come to me. You know your apartment better than I do.”

As she heads out of the kitchen, the phone rings. Mac grabs the receiver off the wall, “Hello?”

“Colonel MacKenzie, this is Officer Franks from the DC police,” says the man on the other end. “That last lightning strike knocked down two trees and several power lines around your area. Our squad cars will be delayed. Do you have a weapon?”

“Yes, Officer. How long until someone will be here?” she asks.

“I’m not sure, Colonel, the weather is wreaking havoc all over town,” he says as another loud rumble of thunder echoes across the sky. “Unfortunately for you, you are no longer top priority, but we’ll get there as soon as we can. Is there someone else you can call?”

“Thanks, Officer, I’ve already got my own back-up,” she hangs up on him. “The police are caught up with weather problems, Harm. It’ll be awhile.” Mac begins making her way across the room to Harm again.

“Ow,” Harm exclaims as Mac kicks his leg. “Watch it, Marine. You wearing steel toed boots today?”

“I’m sorry, Harm,” she says, sitting down in the dark beside him. “It’s so dark, I can’t even see my fingers in front of my face.” The room lights up as a bolt of lightning flashes across the sky. “I hate lightning, Harm.”

“I know…come here,” he invites, searching for her in the darkness and pulling her close. “Mac, will you tell me about your baby?”

“What baby?” she asks, trying to sound as if she doesn’t know what Harm means.

“Mac,” Harm says gently. “In the brig, when you were out of it, you kept saying you were sorry over and over…when I asked why you were sorry, you said for losing our baby. Now, I know we’ve never… um…you know…so I know, it wasn’t ours. Will you tell me about it?”

“It was awful, Harm,” he can hear the tears in her voice. “This thing with the lance corporal…I just knew she didn’t commit suicide…it brought it all back.”

“Was it your husband’s baby?” Harm asks.

“No,” she says. “It was John Farrow’s. I had been on the pill, Harm. I thought I was safe. And you know, back then, they discharged single women who got pregnant. I was devastated.” Harm gives her a tender squeeze. “It’s not that I didn’t want the baby, I just hated having to be discharged because of it. We kept it a secret as long as we could.” She sniffs lightly and wipes a few tears from her cheeks.

“I’m surprised he didn’t ask you to marry him,” Harm says. “You could have circumvented regs.”

“He would have had I not dismissed the notion of marrying for the baby’s sake,” she replies. “But about a month later, I miscarried in the office. We were both angry and sad. It was the beginning of the end for us. I think he thought that I did it on purpose.”

“I’m sorry, Mac,” Harm offers her another sideways hug.

“Well, as much as it hurts sometimes. It was probably for the best,” Mac says. “If I’d had that baby and been discharged, I’d never have met you.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s something to be thankful for, huh?” Harm comments with a chuckle. “Honestly, Mac, I’m sorry about the baby and about Colonel Farrow.”

“Yeah, me, too,” she sighs. “I’ve got to go to the little marine’s room.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.

“I think I can handle it,” she says wryly.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replies.

“I know and I’ll be fine,” she pats his knee as she uses it to boost herself upright. “Be right back.”

A few minutes later, Harm hears the tell tale sign that Mac has concluded her business. A loud crash of thunder precedes a flash of lightning and as Harm wonders what is taking her so long, he hears…

“AAAHHHH—“

Harm jumps up and tears through Mac’s apartment trying to not bump into or knock over anything important. “Mac!” he calls. “OOF!” he flips over the armchair and scrambles to his feet.

“Hold it, Commander,” a familiar voice directs Harm to freeze.

“Where’s Mac?” Harm demands into the darkness.

“She’s with the man who loves her, Commander,” Coster says.

The lights come back on and Harm sees Coster standing in the doorway to Mac’s bedroom with her in a chokehold and her pistol held to her temple. He gasps at the wild fear in Mac’s eyes as she pleads with them for him to help her. A swatch of duct tape keeps her mute.

“How’d you get in here, anyway?” Harm asks.

“Oh, I’ve been here for hours,” Coster says with an evil grin. “Nice navel ring, Sarah.”

Harm raises his eyebrows at Mac. “Let her go, Coster,” he orders and tries to surreptitiously get his gun from his waistband.

“Now, why should I do that, Rabb?” he asks. “Oh…and don’t bother with your weapon—if I see it, she’s dead.”

Harm hold up his hands,” Okay…okay…the cops are on their way, you know.”

“I don’t think so, Commander,” says Coster. “I know all about the weather and the downed power lines. It’ll be awhile still.”

“What’ll it take for you to release her?” Harm asks.

“There’s nothing I want besides Sarah,” Coster answers waggling his eyebrows.

“I’m not letting her leave here with you, Coster,” Harm tells him.

“Then I’ll have to kill you first, Rabb,” he sneers. “Not that I have any problem with that.”

“Well, in order to kill her you’ll have to take the gun away from her head and as soon as you do that, I shoot you,” Harm replies. “Not that I have any problem with that.”

“Very funny, Rabb. You’d better watch it or I just might have to shoot her anyway,” Coster says, tightening his hold on her neck. “You’ve been a very naughty girl, Sarah…cheating on me while I’ve been away.”

Thunder rumbles again and the sound of a knock on the door distracts Coster. As he looks at the door, Harm grabs his gun and shoots Coster in the gut. Coster slumps to the floor, Mac runs for Harm, Harm shoots Coster in the chest, and the door gets kicked in.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Mic demands as he sees Harm’s arm wrapped around a sobbing Mac.

“Thank God,” Harm gasps. “I never thought I’d be this happy to see you.” He releases Mac. “Are you okay?”

She nods at Harm and grabs hold of the duct tape on her mouth and pulls quickly, “OW!”

“Sarah, what’s going on here?” Mic asks, going over to her. “And who the hell is that?” He indicates Coster’s body.

Harm walks over to the body and checks for a pulse, “He’s dead, Mac. He’ll never bother you again.”

“Again?” asks Mic. “And I suppose you came to her rescue the last time, too, huh?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Harm replies. “But that was way before she even knew you.”

“Why didn’t you call me, Sarah?” Mic asks. “Or the police?”

“You were out of town, Mic,” Mac reminds him. “And I did call the police, but they were sidetracked by weather conditions.”

“And did you call them before or after you called Rabb?” Mic demands angrily.

Harm slips out the door with a slight nod to Mac.

“Harm, wait!” Mac calls, going after him.

He shakes his head. “Later, Mac. Deal with Mic now,” he tells her softly. “We’ll talk later, okay?” He caresses her cheek for a fraction of a second and pulls the door shut.

Mac blinks back the tears before turning back to Mic.

“What the hell is going on here?” Mic demands again, more incensed by Harm’s presence than the dead body.

“Coster stalked me once before, three years ago,” Mac explains. “He escaped from prison yesterday and has been waiting for me. Somebody followed me from Quantico and parked across the street. I don’t think it was him,” she indicates Coster. “He was already in here, evidently, when I got home.”

“Bloody hell!” Mic exclaims. “You could have been killed, Sarah.”

“No kidding,” she responds sarcastically. “I need to call the police.”

2323 Zulu (1823 EDT)
Mac’s Apartment
Georgetown

“Who shot the deceased?” asks Detective Brown.

“Commander Harmon Rabb,” Mic offers immediately.

“He’s my partner at JAG,” Mac adds.

“We’ll need to speak with Commander Rabb,” says the detective. “Is there a number where he can be reached?”

Mac gives the detective Harm’s phone number as the coroner zips up the body bag and removes the body from her apartment.

“Thank you, Detective,” Mac offers as she escorts him out the door.

“Thank God you’re all right, Sarah,” Mic envelops her in a hug.

“Mic…all I really want is a hot shower and a warm bed,” Mac shrugs out of his arms.

“And if Harm were here?” Mic asks angrily.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks.

“I think we need to talk, Sarah,” he rakes his hand through his hair. “About us.”

“What about us?” she asks.

“I don’t know, Sarah…every time something happens, you call Harm,” he says.

“It’s habit, Mic,” she sighs. “For the last four years I’ve always called Harm when I need help.”

“Well, for the last ten months, we’ve been seriously involved, engaged for the last five,” Mic remarks. “So what do you think it says to me when you keep calling on him instead of me every time you need help.”

“I don’t know, Mic, what does it say to you?” she asks, not really wanting to have this conversation right now.

“It says that he’s more important to you than me,” Mic says. “How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Like crap,” she says. Obviously, they’re going to have the conversation anyway. “Look, Mic…I’m sorry, okay? When I get stressed out old habits die hard.”

“No, it’s not okay. I think we need to seriously rethink our relationship, Sarah,” he says.

“What are you saying?” she asks, holding her hand to her head. “I don’t really need this right now. I just had an awful case to figure out and then I came home to a crazed stalker. Can we talk later?”

“No we can’t,” Mic says.

“Fine. I’ve never lied to you,” Mac begins. “There has never been anything physical between Harm and I. There is something…I don’t know what it is…I can’t define it. We’re friends, we’re partners.” Mic is speechless. He never thought he’d get an admission about her and Harm out of her. “When he was interested, I wasn’t. When I was ready, he backed away,” she continues. “When you entered the picture, things between Harm and I changed dramatically…and not for the better…until recently.” She takes a deep breath. “And while I never meant to hurt you, I see that I’ve done that. What do you want to do now?”

“Sarah, I…” Mic isn’t sure what to say. He loves her; wants to marry her, but can plainly see that he will probably never take Harm’s place. “I think that for now we should rethink our plans for marriage.”

Mac nods. She is relieved. The more plans they made, the more nervous and confused she got. The only time she seemed to feel comfortable and in control was when she was near Harm. That certainly was not as it should be. “I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“So am I, luv,” he replies. Mic walks over and places a soft kiss on her cheek. “Be happy, Sarah…even if it’s with Harm.”

As he closes the door, a loud roar of thunder precedes a bright flash of lightning. Mac hears the sharp retort as it cuts through the air and a moment later the lights go out again.

The End