"You know how I hate secrets." Her parents had tiptoed around telling their kids the truth about their problems, as if she and her brother Chris couldn't hear the fights and feel the dark silences afterward. She and Chris had kept their schedules packed as teenagers trying to avoid the tension.
"You'll be the first to know after I get in touch with him."
Nikki scrubbed a hand over her eyes. The dizziness kicked into overdrive, exhaustion nailing her. "I'm glad everything's cool with Freckle. I'll be looking forward to seeing the pictures later today. Okay?"
"Are you sure you don't need—"
"I just want a nap, then I'll come by later this afternoon. I promise." She swallowed hard. "I love you, Mom."
She disconnected, already dreading the conversation to come and the burden she would place on her family because of whatever the hell she'd done last night, because of her poor judgment in choosing Gary Owens. Her father was flying in a hot zone and so didn't need the distraction of worrying about her. Although there was nothing she could do to stem the eventual tide of gossip that would flow through e-mail overseas.
Being an adult and independent meant accepting responsibility. What she did affected others—like her family.
Turning her back on her too-pale reflection in the medicine cabinet glass, Nikki scooped a rubber band from a rolling table and gathered her hair away from her face. She needed to get her life together and work on putting this behind her. No more nursing a ridiculous broken heart for a man who flat-out didn't care. She wouldn't be like her mother, losing years of her life waiting for a guy to realize what he was throwing away.
Besides, she had bigger concerns right now. Like getting through the interview with the OSI agent due to walk in the exam room.
* * *
Why wouldn't Nikki call a lawyer?
Thumbing the disconnect button on his cell phone call from work, Carson kept his eyes locked on the exam room door while he paced past the row of vinyl-covered chairs and sofas. If only he could infuse his will through the panel into the idealistic woman on the other side.
Growing up, he'd watched countless guilty-as-hell people get off with a slap on the wrist because of expensive counsel, greased palms and a few wealthy connections. How could she simply trust her entire future would be okay if she just told the truth? What little she could remember. He couldn't stomach even the possibility of Nikki losing her freedom when he knew without question that woman was not a murderer.
He'd spent the past couple of hours on the phone taking care of crises at the squadron, arranging for an officer, chaplain and doctor from a base near Owens's parents in Nebraska to make a notification visit. He wished the couple lived closer so he could have made the visit himself. But he would travel from Charleston to Omaha to attend the funeral, along with every squadron member available. Regardless of what Owens had done last night, he'd still been an officer under Carson's command.
The door swung open. The OSI agent ambled out, slow, but Carson wasn't fooled by the guy's sleepy-eyed act. Special Agent David Reis's cynical eyes were taking everything in, and Carson wasn't so sure cynicism would work in Nikki's favor.
Nikki stepped through a few paces behind the agent, speaking with the nurse at her elbow flipping pages on a metal clipboard, stray words drifting about lab results and release forms for her to sign. She seemed okay, steady on her feet and confident even in surgical scrubs that somehow managed to accentuate her mile-long legs and skim over gentle curves he had no business noticing, especially today.
Good God, regardless of how strong she looked, bruises still marked her arms and heaven only knew where else. He forced his hands not to clench. He kept tracking her moves, searching for answers—or at least clues—as to what happened when the uneasiness settled with the weight of a stare boring into him. Slowly, Carson turned. Special Agent Reis stared back with those half-open assessing eyes.
Carson nodded toward Nikki. "She's free to go?"
"Yes, sir, as soon as she finishes signing her release papers. We've covered everything for now. She just needs to stay in town until we have a few more answers." Absently, Reis reached into his inside jacket pocket, frowned then brought his hand back empty. "You're going to take her home?"
"Yes."
"Good." He fished into his pants pocket and brought out gum this time. "No matter what shook down in that VOQ room, she's had a helluva shock."
Carson tugged his leather jacket off the back of a waiting room chair. "Guess you can't tell me what she said."
"You'd guess right." He folded a piece of gum into his mouth. "Sorry."
"You're only doing your job." He understood all about that. He wouldn't get anything more out of the detective, but it wouldn't hurt to be amiable and form a connection that might lead the guy to give him a heads-up about info in the future. Carson nodded to the empty gum wrapper in Reis's hand. "Just quit smoking?"
Reis grin-grimaced. "Yeah, I still reach for the cigarettes. Doublemint sticks aren't helping much."
"Try drinking everything with a straw for a while."
"Like a drag from a smoke." His working jaw slowed. "Good call. Addictions suck."
"That they do." And since the opening was there, he continued, "Speaking of addictions, you need to know that Owens had a gambling problem. He seemed to have it under control, but..."
"Sometimes old contacts can still be hard to shake."
Nodding, Carson reached to stroke his mustache—damn it—only to find it gone. "I just thought you should know."