The Final Line (26 page)

Hoffman handed Corey a stack of color photographs. “Have you ever seen these before?”

Scanning the photos, Corey recognized them immediately. “These are the photographs I took to document the identities and conditions of the men we killed inside the dwelling. I used the digital camera issued to me by the Marine Corps and downloaded them to the laptop, also issued to me by the Corps.”

“Do any of those photos misrepresent how the bodies were handled?” Hoffman rested his chin on his steepled fingers.

Corey frowned. He looked back through the pictures. They weren’t pretty, but they were, after all, pictures of corpses killed during war. “No, sir. They are accurate representations.”

Hoffman tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. “Does the after-action report you just read correctly detail how the bodies were handled during transport back to base?”

“Yes, it does, sir.” Corey tried to clear his dry throat. “That’s one of the paragraphs that was not altered.”

“At any time, were the bodies used to taunt civilian residents?” The special agent shrugged, as though he wasn’t quite sure what question to ask. “Were the bodies desecrated in any way that could be found offensive by the Muslim faith? Are you aware of any Marine mutilating any of the corpses post-mortem?”

Corey was too horrified to wonder what game Hoffman was playing. “No, sir. Absolutely not. Had I witnessed anything of that nature I would have put a stop to it.
Immediately
. My Marines conducted themselves with honor, sir.” In his peripheral vision, Corey saw Captains Evans and Hirata exchange a significant look. He glanced back and forth between the two.

“He’s so earnest and genuine,” Evans said quietly.

“His credibility is nearly unimpeachable,” replied Hirata.

“Makes our job easier,” Evans murmured as she went back to writing on her legal pad.

Corey frowned, not happy about being talked about as he sat right there, listening. He held his tongue, though. He was in the company of officers.

Hoffman collected the photographs from Corey and handed him another stack. “Do you recognize these photos, Corey?”

“No sir, I’ve never seen them before.” He knew what they depicted, though.

“Do you recognize the bodies in the photos?” Hoffman clarified his question.

“They appear to be of the hostiles that attacked the platoon while the detachment and I were securing the structure,” replied Corey.

“Did you examine those corpses at the time of the incident?” The special agent made the question sound off-the-cuff.

Corey wasn’t buying Hoffman’s act, but he wasn’t sure where this line of questioning was leading. “No, sir. I had other duties and this was overseen by Lieutenant Adams.”

“Staff Sergeant, please examine those photos and tell me,” Hoffman nodded toward the stack of pictures in front of Corey, “if you had come across those bodies while on patrol, how you would have believed they’d been killed.”

Corey looked closely at the pictures, analyzing the positions of the bodies, the wounds that were and were not visible, and the pattern of the pooled blood.

Adrenaline flooded Corey’s body. He gasped, shoving away the photos. He hastily snatched the bottle of water beside him, washing down the bile rising in his throat.

“Are you all right, Corey?” Evans asked, watching him with concern.

“I need a minute, ma’am,” he replied, voice shaky and hands trembling.

“Did you see something, Staff Sergeant?” Hoffman asked, gathering up the photos.

“It’s what I didn’t see,” replied Corey.

“And that was?” Hoffman pressed.

“Gunshot wounds to the bodies.” Corey took a deep breath. “If those men had been killed during a gun battle they instigated, there would be bloody gunshot wounds to their bodies, as well as their heads. Those bodies have no visible wounds. The blood has pooled beneath their heads, but there are no wounds visible on their faces. Those men were not killed in a gun battle. They were executed.” Realization struck Corey like concussive blast. “I need to talk to a lawyer,” he said, starting to rise from his chair.

“What about?” Captain Hirata asked.

Corey fumbled into his uniform coat, his fingers struggling to fasten the buttons. “As the senior NCO, I’m going to take the fall for what Nygaard and the lieutenant did.” His mind raced over what he knew had happened and what he’d begun to suspect as well.

“No one’s taking the fall for anything, Staff Sergeant,” Captain Evans replied.

All three of them had risen from their chairs. Hirata crossed to a credenza and lifted a telephone handset to his ear.

“I need to be dismissed.” Corey struggled with his belt, slowly edging his way toward the door. “Permission to be dismissed?” He didn’t know who the ranking officer was, Hirata or Evans.

“You’re not in trouble for anything that’s gone on, Corey,” Hirata said, setting down the phone. “Just try to calm down for a moment.”

The door to the conference room opened slowly. Corey whirled to assess the incoming threat.

“Hey, Corey, I heard you were coming in for another interview today.” Kellan Reynolds was smartly dressed in a suit. His expression was open and his greeting friendly. He opened the door all the way and stepped into the room, leaving Corey’s path to the egress clear.

Until Jonah Carver appeared in the doorway. He was also dressed in his olive green service uniform and he stood, tall and menacing, scowling between Kellan and Corey.

“Staff Sergeant Yarwood seems to have gotten the impression that he’s a suspect in our inquiry.” Hirata said quietly from behind Corey. “We were just trying to explain that he’s been of immeasurable assistance to us by providing independent verification of facts we’ve already established.”

Corey needed to get out of the room but Jonah still stood in the doorway, expression dark. Kellan glanced at Jonah over his shoulder.

“Again with the
punim
,” Kellan hissed. “Get out of the doorway so he doesn’t feel trapped.”

Jonah’s expression smoothed and he slowly stepped into the room, standing to the side of the open door.

Corey took a deep breath and focused his attention on Kellan. “Officers don’t like to discipline other officers,” Corey said the only thing he could think of. “It was my after-action that was altered. This is going to fall on me.”

“No, Corey,” Kellan said fiercely, “not on my watch.”

Corey wanted to believe him.

“Staff Sergeant,” Hirata waited until Corey turned to look at him before he continued, “your report was altered without your knowledge. You did
not
submit a falsified report. None of this is on you.”

“I promise you, Corey,” Kellan said, “no enlisted Marine will be held responsible for something he did not do. If I so much as tried to do that, do you think Jonah would let me get away with it?”

Corey darted a glance at Jonah, standing silently by the door. At Corey’s look, he gave a single, sharp, shake of his head.

Taking another deep breath, Corey shook out his fisted hands and rolled his shoulders to ease the accumulated tension. He looked down at the high shine on his black shoes without really seeing. He trusted Jonah, which meant he should trust Kellan. Corey just couldn’t shake the sense that all fingers were pointing at him.

“Corey, do you understand that you and Corporal Tyler Howe are our allies in this inquiry?” Kellan asked, breaking the line of his suit jacket to shove his hands into his trouser pockets. “Without knowing anything about what’s going on, the two of you are verifying the claims of the Afghanis. The cover-up doesn’t stop with Lieutenant Adams, but it also doesn’t
include
you.”

“Yes, sir,” Corey said, voice rough. He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot and wondering how quickly he could make it out the door if he needed to.

“Captain Hirata is your lawyer, Corey, as much as he’s one of my investigators,” Kellan continued. “He’s your shield against Nygaard’s crap and anything your former lieutenant eventually tries to pull.”

That was news to Corey. How had he missed that? “Understood, sir,” he replied. “I apologize for overreacting.”

“I don’t believe it was an overreaction, Staff Sergeant,” Hirata interjected. “It’s possible that in our zealousness to ensure an untainted inquiry, we haven’t been as forthcoming with you as perhaps we should be.”

“Chris, do you require the Staff Sergeant for anything more today?” Captain Evans asked Agent Hoffman.

“Today, no.” Hoffman began to gather up photos and paperwork. “I’ll need to dig into details as we progress, but it doesn’t have to be today.”

“Great,” Kellan said, smiling once again. “Let’s kick Staff Sergeant Yarwood loose for today. We can resume when he’s not feeling like we’re quite so adversarial.”

As Kellan exchanged a silent look with him, Jonah stepped forward. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Corey followed Jonah, aware that neither of the officers had dismissed him. He supposed Kellan really did outrank them all.

“What time do you report?” Jonah asked as they slowly strolled down quiet corridors, their highly polished dress shoes making no sound on the plush carpet.

“Eighteen hundred.”

“What are you going to do in the meantime?”

Corey glanced at his watch. “I have an appointment with my counselor in two hours. I called yesterday and told her what was going on today and she freed up an hour for me.”

“What are your plans until then?” Jonah’s question sounded casual, but Corey knew better.

“Change into my utilities. Get some lunch.” Corey paused to consider his options. At some point he knew he was going to make a phone call. “Avoid thinking about all this shit until I get to my counselor’s office.”

“Does she have you on meds?” Jonah’s question was free of judgment.

Corey laughed mirthlessly. “I took a Xanax before the interview and I still lost my shit.”

“You’re showing signs of hyper-vigilance and you perceived yourself to be under threat,” Jonah replied. “It was a pretty reasonable response as far as I’m concerned.”

They passed through reception and Jonah held the outer door open for Corey.

“This is some pretty fucked up shit, Jonah,” Corey said darkly when they stepped out into the sunshine.

“The understatement inherent in that assessment is so extreme as to be nearly immeasurable,” Jonah declared dramatically. Neither of them spoke again until they reached Corey’s Jeep. “If you find yourself wanting to drink before you get to your counselor’s, you call me.”

“It’s been more than a week since I’ve taken a drink,” Corey said quietly, looking off into the distance. “You were a solid copy, Jonah. And you weren’t the only one who noticed a problem.”

Jonah watched Corey with narrowed eyes for several interminable moments. His gaze was shrewd and assessing. “Are you seeing someone, Corey? Do you have anyone watching your six?”

Corey glanced down at his shoes for a moment, considering how to answer. “Yeah. For a couple of weeks now.”

“The other person who noticed your drinking?” asked Jonah.

Corey nodded.

Jonah lifted a single eyebrow. “Does he get it?”

Corey didn’t have to ask what ‘it’ was. “He’s a civilian so he’ll never understand completely. But he gets
me
. He understands being a Marine is important to me. He’s got his own life so sometimes
he’s
the one traveling and working fucked up hours.”

“Good. Cause I’d rather not have to kick his ass.” Jonah was a master of deadpan.

Corey laughed. “Like Kellan would let you.”

One side of Jonah’s mouth lifted in a smile that used to make Corey’s knees weak; the way Sean’s smile did now. “So, I imagine you’ll be calling him if you get into trouble in the next couple of hours,” Jonah said, already heading back inside the building. “But if he’s unavailable, call me.”

“Yes, Top. On my honor as a Recon Marine.” Still smiling, Corey climbed into his Jeep. Jonah’s concern was comforting. Not that he’d ever admit that to Top.

After he grabbed lunch and changed into his utilities, Corey still had some time to kill before his appointment. He took another Xanax, just to be safe. He sat on his rack and contemplated calling Sean. He was still reeling from the earlier revelations, but he didn’t feel the need for a drink. Corey simply wanted to call Sean just to talk to him.

He acknowledged his disappointment when he reached Sean’s voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to say hi. The interview was pretty fucked up. My counselor is squeezing me in this afternoon so I’ll be fine. Call me when you get a chance, just to talk.” He didn’t want Sean worrying about something he couldn’t do anything about.

Even though he was early for his counseling appointment, Doctor Ingram had the inner office door open and was waiting for him. “How are you, Corey?” she asked as soon as he stepped inside.

“Two doses of Xanax and a near mutiny, but I’m fine,” he answered dryly, closing the inner door.

“Is any of that an exaggeration?” Ingram queried, watching him intently.

Corey flopped down on the love seat and immediately reached for his usual throw pillow. “I guess the part about mutiny is an exaggeration. It was a very inconvenient panic attack, I guess.”

He told her about the earlier events, the things he’d learned and his final, overwhelmed reaction. As Corey talked, his anger welled up, spilling over into rage. Ingram asked him over and over how these events made him
feel
. His anger was only part of it. Corey felt used, misled, and betrayed. Finally, he relaxed into the sofa, feeling almost unbearably sad.

“This is normal, Corey,” Doctor Ingram reassured. “You’re supposed to feel these things. You need to feel them, acknowledge them, accept them, talk about them, and eventually move past them.”

“I don’t get why I freaked out the way I did,” he replied. “I way overreacted.”

“You’ve spent a long time having to react to threats in an extreme manner, or you’d lose your life,” she explained. “Neither your brain nor your body fully understands that it’s time to stand down; that it’s okay to stand down. You perceive a threat of any kind and your default setting has been maximum response.”