An Unlawful Order (The Chase Anderson Series) (32 page)

“No,” they called back in unison.

Paige added, “We’ll keep our eyes out for them.”

The girls were working their way up the opposite side of the street now, nearly parallel with Samantha’s house, skipping down the sidewalk, slowing to stare at two boys whose heads were eerily enclosed in carved out pumpkins. The boys held flashlights under their chins to add to the spookiness, and the girls squealed and raced to the next porch. Chase and the others laughed and pulled up under the limbs of a wide tree across the street from her house.

“Do you have a sitter for the Marine Corps Ball?” Samantha said, waving to her husband and pointing toward the house where he could catch a glimpse of his daughter on her night out.

Chase stammered, “No … I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Use mine,” Samantha suggested. But, thought Chase, what did it all matter, now that she’d been fired? Samantha—the whole world, for that matter—would find out in the next day or so. What if all her efforts to expose Hickman and Farris as co-conspirators with Shapiro’s help came to nothing? What if Figueredo….

The two boys with the pumpkin heads walked by with the flashlights under their chins.
Creepy
, Chase thought, remembering why she hated Halloween. Why she’d always hated horror movies. She watched the two pumpkin heads cut across the lawn of the Sims’ house and disappear behind the front door. So two of the Sims’ boys were home, anyway. Chase glanced around for the tall figure of their missing father.

“But the Ball’s next Saturday night.” Paige was saying to Samantha. “Did you find a gown?”

“I was serious,” Samantha chuckled, “when I said I was going to wear the same dress I wore last year.”

Paige abruptly excused herself to speak with a woman who Chase recognized as a board member of the Officers’ Wives’ Club and who was in charge of raising money for the annual Navy Relief Fund Drive. Both women were huddled in a private discussion.

Chase looked up at the moon that reminded her of a round, white pool of light. She thought of the families of those Marines who had just lost their lives in the 81 crash over Afghanistan. In Afghanistan, that minute, the sun was already rising on a new day….

“Chase, is something wrong?” Samantha had stopped walking. She tugged at Chase’s forearm.

“What do you mean?”

“You seem so distracted.”

“Samantha, if I …” Chase hesitated. Could she trust Samantha?

“What is it, Chase? What’s wrong?” Darkness had settled over the island like a blanket. On Oahu, there were no street lights, and the base, out of courtesy, had observed this reverence for energy conservation or whatever the purpose was. Chase had never learned why. But now that the breeze had picked up and darkness was enveloping them, the only light on the street was proffered from small porch lights and the open doorways that allowed the outside world a glimpse into the home conditions and styles of others, and the tiny, flickering candles in white paper bags that lined the sidewalks and driveways. Samantha moved in close enough that Chase could read the concern in her friend’s face. Sam gave a reassuring squeeze to Chase’s upper arm.

“If I were to tell you something …”

“Wait,” Samantha whispered. “Chase, you can tell me anything, but whatever it is … are you telling me as a friend or as someone who needs a lawyer?”

The question was startling. Up to that moment, Chase hadn’t been thinking of Samantha as anyone other than a friend, but it was now occurring to Chase that it was everything about the woman—the fact that Samantha had once been a Marine and a JAG attorney, was still an attorney—that was instilling an unusual boldness within Chase to divulge what she knew about Stone and Melanie and about the conspiracy to keep the 81 flying, even about Hickman and Farris’ involvement and that Hickman had just fired her. Several years earlier, when Chase had been in advanced public affairs training at Fort Meade, she’d met a troubled, complicated air force captain who finally broke one night over a beer in the officer’s club and told her about his secret life as a CIA operative. At first, Chase had thought the story of how this man had left briefcases behind toilets in bathroom stalls in foreign countries, and of retrieving them from behind toilet stalls, had been some sort of come-on ruse to get her into bed. He’d said, “They told us, you know, during CIA training that we’d eventually break and have to tell one person … I guess you’re my one person …” and she’d been about to congratulate him on making it on her top-ten pick-up line list when she realized he was serious. North had been Chase’s one person, but she doubted she could even tell North about Stone’s affair with Tony White. Was Samantha about to become the one person to whom Chase would tell everything? But did she need Samantha as a friend or for legal advice?

Paige was still talking with the woman from the officer’s wives club when Sara and Erin came jogging back up the sidewalk. “Where’s Molly?” Chase asked.

Sara said, “I thought she was right behind us.”

“No,” said Erin, “she was still talking to Mrs. Sims when we left.”

Samantha scolded her daughter. “The rule was for the three of you to stay together.” Samantha looked around for Paige.

“That’s okay, Sam,” Chase said. “I’ll walk back for her. You and Paige go on ahead with the girls.” The Sims’ house was on the opposite side of the street and a block south, and Chase was only halfway across when she had to dodge a wave of tiny trick-or-treaters. She turned back to see that the ghoulish river of costumed children was dispersing around her friend, in search for the path of least resistance. Samantha appeared hysterically defenseless in their wake. “Let’s meet back at my place,” Chase shouted.

“Sure,” Samantha called back and waved above the bobbing heads of chattering children.

CHAPTER 19

S
he’d actually expected to meet Molly sauntering up the sidewalk from the Sims’ house. As each small wave of children passed, Chase strained against the darkness to make out her little girl in the hula skirt. Chase rounded the corner, and though the Sims’ house was still two away, she could make out the empty porch under an umbrella of white light. Chase stopped walking. She stood in the middle of the sidewalk, now all alone, and searched both sides of the street. There were trick-or-treaters at the door of a house halfway down the block, but Chase could tell Molly wasn’t in the group. Where was she? There could only be one explanation. Obviously Chase had missed her daughter in one of the chatty waves of children. By now, Molly was most likely home, or she’d been safely corralled by Samantha. Chase headed quickly back up the hill and toward home.

She liked her street best, at least by day. The trees provided a canopy over the street, a sense of life in the suburbs, even if it were in a tropical paradise such as Hawaii. But at night the canopy blocked out much of the light from the streetlamps. Porch lights fell short of the sidewalk. Every now and then, she was aided by the light of those few candles still glowing in white paper bags, but most had been knocked over or blown out under the pressure of the night’s breeze. She shivered. Molly must be freezing, she thought, and wished she’d insisted her daughter wear the jacket that Chase was clutching in her right hand.

Ahead, the street was alive with children and parents. Molly had to be somewhere in that crowd. There was Samantha, under a streetlamp, talking with Paige. Samantha smiled when she first noticed Chase, and just as quickly dropped the smile. “Didn’t you find her?”

Chase slowed her pace. “You mean she’s not back? You haven’t seen her?”

“No. We’ve been here the whole time. Let’s check inside.” Chase heard the urgency in Sam’s voice. It matched her own.

Paige called out, “I’ll stay here with Sara and Erin,” as Samantha and Chase raced up the sidewalk and driveway.

“Don’t panic,” Chase heard Samantha say behind her as Chase threw open her front door.

“Molly,” Chase shouted and searched the kitchen first. She nearly bumped smack into Samantha who was returning from the opposite direction after searching in Molly’s bedroom.

Samantha shook her head. “I checked the bathroom, too.”

“Where could she have gone?”

“Now don’t panic,” Samantha said, pushing her friend back toward the front yard. “You know she’s out here among all these kids somewhere. Nothing’s going to happen to Molly here on the base.”

True. Samantha was right. This was a Marine base, for crying out loud. Then again, given what she’d just learned about Hickman and Farris, even Stone and Tony White and the role they had played in covering up problems with the 81, just how long was she going to hold on to such lofty ideals.

When the two women reached Paige at the top of Chase’s driveway, Samantha delivered the news. “She’s got to be around here somewhere, Chase.” And toward the group of trick-or-treaters playing in the street, Paige called, “Molly. Molly Anderson.” She called Sara and Erin over. “You girls still haven’t seen Molly?” They shook their heads.

Chase turned to Samantha. “I’m going back down the hill toward the Sims’ house. Will you go the other way?”

“Of course.”

“Do you have your cell phone?” Chase pulled hers from her pocket.

“No, but I’ll go get it.”

“Sam, if I don’t find her in the next ten minutes, I’m calling the MPs.”

“We’ll find her, Chase,” she said, but Chase had already walked away and was placing a cell phone call.

North picked up on the first ring. “I can’t find Molly,” she said, willing herself to remain calm.

“Where are you?”

“On foot. Headed toward Major Sims’ house where she was seen last. We’ve been trick-or-treating.”

“Meet you there in five.”

“No,” she shouted just before he could hang up. “Check out my backyard first. I remember noticing the gate was open—not sure who opened it or why.” Her stomach was flip-flopping. No way Molly would have gone into their dark backyard by herself, but if she and, say a friend from school, had decided to shortcut the walk home….

Charlotte Sims answered the door, perhaps expecting late trick-or-treaters, given the consternation in her face. “Oh, hi,” she said. “I thought—”

Chase introduced herself. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Sims, but I’m looking for my daughter, Molly, and her friends don’t remember seeing her after they were here. She’s about this tall,” and Chase pointed to her hip, “and she’s wearing a hula skirt.”

“I remember her,” Mrs. Sims said. “She has your eyes. Beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you, but do you remember which way she went after she left here?”

“No, I don’t.” Charlotte Sims thought a moment. “That was at least half an hour ago, and there were so many other children after her. Seems they all came at once this year.” Behind the woman were both sons, still half in costume.

“Could you ask your sons?”

Mrs. Sims called over both boys, but neither remembered even seeing Molly at all. As if reading the panic in Chase’s face, Charlotte Sims said, “I’m sure she’s probably at home by now, but I’d be happy to call my husband for you.”

Chase looked at her watch. It was nearly nine. Surely if Molly had returned home, Samantha would have called. She flipped open her cell phone. No service, which provided an explanation for why she hadn’t heard from Sam. “I’m sure Molly’s probably home by now. Thank you, Mrs. Sims.”

Chase marched back up the dark hill, stopping every ten or fifteen feet to check for service on her cell phone. Nothing. She crisscrossed the street toward a clearing with the thought that perhaps the tree canopy was adding to the normal interference caused by the air traffic control tower. She glanced up at the tower, at its blinking lights, and had the sense that whoever was up there tonight had a front-row seat to her state of panic. Her cell phone still registered no service, so she gave up and headed the rest of the way up the hill.

“A little old for trick-or-treating, aren’t you?”

A startled Chase stifled a scream. “What are you doing out here?”

Colonel Figueredo had seemingly materialized out of nowhere. To get home, she’d have to pass him, or she could cross the street again. She chose the latter. “I have to get home, sir. I’m in a hurry.”

“Wait,” he said, and grabbed her arm. But Chase wrenched herself free.

“Look, Colonel,” she said, “I don’t have time for this tonight. My daughter’s missing—well, she’s probably at home by now—but I need to go.”

“I’ll walk with you. I want to explain about last night.”

“Frankly, Colonel, right now I don’t give a damn about last night or about you or about your cronies Hickman and Farris. I’ve already had one run-in with Hickman tonight. In fact, the general fired me.”

“What?” Despite his long legs, he was struggling to match her pace.

“All I care about is getting home and finding my daughter there. I’ll deal with Hickman tomorrow. In fact, in a sense, I’ve already dealt with all of you. ” She stepped off the sidewalk into the street, and Figueredo followed. Soon as she reached the other side of the street, she double-timed it. “Just leave me alone!” she shouted over her shoulder.

She was in sight of Paige Harold’s backyard by the time Figueredo caught up to her. “Will you slow down, for crying out loud, and let me help you?” he said, jumping in front of her to slow her down.

“Let her go!” It was North, and thanks to the light streaming across the yard from Paige’s back windows, Chase managed to read fury in North’s stitched brow. He lunged into Figueredo’s right shoulder with linebacker steam, toppling the two of them over one another until the colonel rolled up under Paige’s hibiscus bushes by the patio. North was first on his feet, taunting the colonel. “You’ve done enough to her already.”

Chase scrambled across the lawn toward the two of them and stumbled over a root. North ran over to help, but she slapped away his outstretched help. “My God, North. What’s gotten into you?” With both hands under her arms, he swept her to her feet.

“You can’t—” she said, trying to regain her balance, “this isn’t—” North was little more than an inch or so taller than she and bulkier than the colonel. She and North were now standing toe to toe, nearly eye to eye. Even now her loyalty for him and how he’d saved her life, how she’d saved his in Iraq during the firefight of which they’d promised to never speak was preventing her from chastising her sergeant in front of Figueredo. She dropped to her knees beside the colonel, who was struggling out of the bushes to a sitting position. “Are you okay?”