Note: This was originally written for the 2001 Virtual Season, but it can stand alone. I thought it was about time I added it to my collection--especially since I haven't posted in ages. This post includes a scene I left out of the original because of time restraints for posting to the virtual season. I must thank the AJC for inspiration; if you ever need an idea for a secondary plot line, try the newspaper.
Tuesday morning
0715 Zulu
1225 Johnson Road
Quantico, Virginia
"I'm so proud of you," Moira Delaney gushed at her boyfriend as he helped her down the hall to their bedroom. Their night had been spent at the bar, celebrating his new promotion. "My sweetie, a Captain!"
Franklin Dyer sat his live-in girlfriend on the edge of the bed. A few dark curls had slipped out of her ponytail, framing her flushed face. Crouching in front of her, the roguish-looking Marine spoke hesitantly.
"The promotion isn't the only news I got today, honey. I hate to tell you this because you're not going to like it, but you have to be told…" Her exorbitantly happy grin contrasted with his somber expression. He took a deep breath and took her hands in his before telling her, "They're transferring me."
His announcement definitely got her attention. The alcohol-induced clouds in her eyes dissipated, only to be replaced with sparks of anger. She tried to stand, but her knees were wobbly from too many margaritas, and she wound up sitting on the bed again.
"I told you when you were transferred here that I am not moving again," she told him icily, her words only slightly slurred. "I hated moving last time. I'm not doing it again."
"Moira, I have to go. I have orders. I told you things like this would happen to us when you moved in with me five years ago."
"Well, you can go wherever you want," she said, managing to stand up this time, "but I'll stay here. Daniel and I can live with my mother."
"You do not have absolute control over our son," he said darkly. "If you leave me because of this, I'll get over it. But I will fight you for my son, and he will come with me."
Moira walked unsteadily to where Franklin stood. Standing practically nose-to-nose with him, she warned, "If you take my son away from me, I will kill you."
They glowered at each other till Moira broke eye contact. Six feet away, on the top of the desk, sat her gun. She usually kept it in her purse for those late nights in the dark parking lot after she got off of work at the restaurant. She had taken it out before they left for the bar, figuring with her Marine escort, she wouldn't need it.
Following her gaze, Franklin saw the object his girlfriend had suddenly become fixated on. She saw his head turn and made a move toward the desk. She may have had a head start, but she didn't have the advantage of relative sobriety. Consequentially, Franklin reached the gun first, and before he realized what he was doing, two shots rang out. All he saw was the look of surprise in Moira's eyes a split second before she fell to the ground. Franklin felt like everything was moving in slow motion as he set the gun back down on the desk and knelt down next to her to feel for a pulse.
He pulled himself onto the bed, still in shock as he stared at Moira's lifeless body. Picking up the cordless phone on the nightstand, he dialed the first number that came to mind. After two rings, a deep woman's voice answered with a tired, "Hello?"
"Mama," he said slowly into the receiver, "I've done something really stupid…"
And then he began to cry.
1300 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Bud barely had time to leave his cover and his briefcase at his desk before Tiner informed him over the intercom that Admiral Chegwidden wanted him in his office ASAP.
Mac was already in the admiral's office when Bud walked in.
"Reporting, as ordered, sir," he snapped off perfunctorily.
"Nice of you to join us, Lieutenant. At ease," Admiral Chegwidden commanded as he looked up from his desk. "I have a new assignment for the two of you."
Closing the file he had been scanning, he stood up and handed a folder to each officer. "A Marine Captain and his girlfriend went out for drinks last night. When they arrived home early this morning, they argued, and he put two bullets through her heart."
Chegwidden watched as both officers opened their respective file and glanced through the information.
"Colonel, you will be prosecuting, and Lieutenant Roberts, I want you as defense. Since the defendant was just promoted and the charge is murder, this case is now your top priority. If you need help with the rest of your caseload, let me know." Both looked up from their file to acknowledge that they'd heard him. "You're dismissed."
"Aye, aye, sir," they replied in unison before exiting the office.
1743 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Two quick knocks preceded Commander Harmon Rabb's entrance into the office of his favorite Marine. She had her head in her hands, reading from the top of a stack of files on her desk. "Mac, I hope I'm not bothering you, but it's lunch time, and I couldn't help but notice that you're still holed up in your office…"
Mac sighed, looking up at Harm, who was standing in the doorway with one hand on the doorknob and the other behind his back. She tried to smile for him, but failed miserably in her attempt. "Unfortunately, I have to go meet Bud and his client in 47 minutes, so I'm trying to learn everything about this case backward and forward before I leave. That doesn't give me the luxury of a lunch break."
She looked back down at the papers spread out in front of her. Harm smiled, closing the door behind him and walking up to her desk. "I had a feeling you'd say something like that, so I took the liberty of picking something up for you."
This time when she looked up at him, he pulled a bag from Beltway Burger out from behind his back. He plopped the bag in front of her and watched a genuine smile light up her face. "I knew I let you hang around my office for some reason! I'm absolutely starving!"
She grabbed the bag eagerly, but then she glanced back at the stack of work in front of her and her smile disappeared. She reluctantly pushed the bag to the side. "I'll have to eat in the car. Otherwise I'll never make it through all of this, but thanks anyway."
Harm slid a chair up next to her and pulled the top paper off of the stack she was reading.
"Harm, I really don't have time for this," she told him tiredly, reaching out for the sheet.
He merely pointed to the Beltway bag. "You eat. I'll read it to you."
She considered this compromise for a moment with her hand still frozen in midair. Slowly, she withdrew her hand, then pushed the rest of the files toward him. She closed her eyes and inhaled the mouth-watering fumes as she opened the bag. After getting a good whiff of greasy hamburger and french fries, she unceremoniously dumped the contents of the bag in the middle of her desk.
"Well, I'm glad I didn't get you a drink, or it would be all over everything right now." Harm grinned, leaning back in his chair. He watched her carefully begin unwrapping her lunch before finally looking down at the word-processed page he still held. "Let's see. The call to 911 was answered at 0251 this morning. Franklin Dyer confessed to shooting his girlfriend and requested an ambulance. The address is in Quantico, Virginia."
Harm picked up the rest of the folder from the corner of the desk and began flipping through. "It says here that Captain Dyer is assigned to Quantico, where he's been stationed for the past three years…"
"And he was just promoted to captain," Mac interjected through a mouthful of hamburger.
"I was getting to that part, so enjoy your dead animal on a bun and let me go over this for you," Harm chastised. He looked up from the printout, attempting to feign irritation at her interruption. He found this especially difficult when he saw that she had mustard on her upper lip. "Um, you've got mustard…" he mimed wiping his lip with his index finger.
She got the hint and quickly wiped her mouth with a napkin. "They were going to transfer him, too," she threw in before he could get back to the file. She quickly took another bite of her hamburger, looking at Harm innocently as she chewed. At his annoyed look, she simply cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrow expectantly, waiting for him to continue.
Harm rolled his eyes before looking back down at the file. "Okay, so yesterday morning, he was informed of his promotion to captain…"
1825 Zulu
Visitor's room, local jail
"I don't think this necessarily should be treated as a flat-out murder," Bud told Mac once his client had been escorted back to his cell. "He had been drinking. His judgment was impaired."
"Not an excuse, Bud," she said, unimpressed. She was standing against the back wall of the small room with her arms crossed. "He was sober enough to drive home. I don't buy it, and a jury won't, either."
Bud had been looking at Mac, but when she rebuffed his first point, he turned back to his notebook on the table. Flipping through the pad of paper, he picked his next point of contention. "His girlfriend told him that she would kill him. He was defending himself."
"Once he had the gun, the threat was gone. There would be no reason to fire the weapon. If she didn't have the gun, she wouldn't be much of a threat because after all, he's a Marine, and she was a waitress."
"Ma'am, she was threatening to keep their child away from him. That's liable to make anyone a little emotionally volatile," he said, imagining how he'd feel if someone tried to take little AJ away from him and Harriet.
"There's this thing called self-restraint, Bud, and I don't think that your client possessed enough to prevent him from killing his girlfriend. Let's leave any other details for court," she told him, already heading for the door. "As interesting as your pleas for leniency are, she's still dead, and he still took a half hour to call 911."
0347 Zulu
Harm's apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.
Mac was sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chin as she examined the sea of papers floating around her. A pizza box with one pathetic slice remaining lay forgotten on the coffee table. Harm was pacing behind the couch, a stack of papers in his hand.
Trying to synthesize all of the facts he was helping Mac go over, he summarized, "Okay, let's see if I got this straight--Captain Dyer and his girlfriend have been living together for five years. They have a four-year-old son, whom they left with her mother before they went out for drinks to celebrate his promotion. He's sober enough to drive them both home without getting pulled over. It's 0200 when they get home, and they're both kind of out of it. He springs the news of his transfer on her, and they argue because she doesn't want to move. They drag the kid into their argument. In a moment of anger, she says she'll kill him if he takes their son. He sees her going for a gun on their desk, and he goes for it, too. He's the one that ends up with the weapon, and she's the one that ends up dead."
Mac picked up where he left off, "Then when he realizes what he's done, he calls his mother in New Jersey. A half-hour later, she finally has convinced him to turn himself in. He calls 911. When they arrive, he's arrested."
"Seems pretty open and shut," Harm observed, clearing some papers off of the couch so he could sit down.
"It is. But Bud wants me to go easy on the guy because he says the prospect of losing his kid made him nuts. Plus Bud says that the alcohol impaired Dyer's judgment, and the girlfriend's threat should be taken seriously."
"Dyer's a Marine. I think he could defend himself."
"My sentiments exactly."
"So are we done looking at this yet?" Harm asked, and without waiting for an answer, he flipped the television on.
"I guess that's enough for tonight, especially since this isn't your case," she humored him as she collected all of her papers.
"Yeah, I've got my own drunk and disorderly to take care of," he replied sarcastically as started methodically flipping through the channels, "except mine didn't turn lethal."
"Hold it, flyboy," she said suddenly. He froze, trying to figure out what she was referring to. She grabbed the remote out of his hand and started flipping back through the stations for something that had caught her eye.
"Don't get so grabby, Marine. Didn't they teach you to share back in boot camp?"
"I saw something I wanted to watch," she said in explanation. She smiled when she found what she was looking for, then shoved the remote under the pillow she was leaning on so that he couldn't steal it back from her. Stretching out across the sofa, she kicked her feet up on Harm's lap. For the moment, he ignored the fact that she was using him as a footstool. He looked at the TV screen to figure out what she had gotten so excited about.
"The American President?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, The American President. It's one of those movies that no matter how many times they show it, you can always sit through it again."
"I though that was Top Gun."
Mac laughed, "I should have known… that must be the guy equivalent. Personally, I prefer this, or the new Parent Trap."
"There's more than one Parent Trap?"
"In all of your channel surfing, you've never landed on Disney?"
"Mac, I'm a single guy with no kids. I tend to skip over the Disney channel."
"I'll just have to rent The Parent Trap for you sometime," she teased. "Now be quiet so I can watch the movie!"
An hour and a half later, the movie was over. Harm reached over the sleeping form of his partner to retrieve the remote and turn the television off.
"Mac?" he shook her gently. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake up. He called her name again, kneeling down next to the sofa.
"Harm?" she asked sleepily, "What are you doing here?"
"It's my apartment," he whispered back.
"Oh. Okay," was her barely comprehensible reply as she yawned and then turned away from him.
"Well, I guess you're welcome to my couch tonight since you don't seem to want to get up," he told her. He left the room, returning a few moments later with a blanket. He spread it over her, then stood in front of the couch with his hands folded in front of him, watching her sleep. A smile played across his lips as he thought how sweet and innocent she looked asleep, though if he ever told her that, he knew her stoic Marine alter ego would protest vehemently. Leaning over the couch, he kissed the top of her head.
"Good night," he whispered in her ear before retiring to his own bed for the rest of the night.
Wednesday afternoon
1736 Zulu
First National Bank
Falls Church, Virginia
Mac automatically tucked her cover under her arm as she walked into the bank. Seeing the line, she groaned inwardly. She had 24 minutes till her lunch break was over, and by the looks of things, she'd be cutting it close. As she took her place in line, she rifled through her purse, double-checking that she had brought her income tax refund. The check, part of President Bush's new tax cut, was a welcome gift, especially after all of the money she'd lost when the her wedding was canceled last-minute.
A piercing scream startled her. A young woman and her infant had joined the line behind her. Mac turned to see the mother digging through a diaper bag with her free hand while bouncing the crying child with the other.
"Heather, please stop crying," she pleaded, "I'm looking for your pacifier. I'd find it faster if you'd stop fussing."
Mac smiled sympathetically. "Do you need a hand?" she offered.
The mother looked up, momentarily startled, "Um, hold on a sec." Her hand jerked to a corner of the bag, then emerged triumphantly clutching a ribbon, a pacifier hanging at one end. The baby eagerly accepted the pacifier as soon as she calmed down enough to realize what was in her mouth. The mother quickly attached the clip at the other end of the ribbon to the edge of the infant's dress and breathed a sigh of relief.
The woman smiled at Mac, remembering the offer for assistance. "Would you like to hold her for a minute so I can find my purse?"
"Sure," Mac said, a little surprised by the offer. She balanced her cover on top of her purse so she could reach out to take the little girl. "Her name is Heather?"
"Yes, ma'am," the girl replied as she fished her purse out of the baby bag. "And I think she likes you."
Heather had forgotten her pacifier, intrigued by the new face. She cooed at Mac, her little arms stretching up toward the Marine's face. Mac smiled back, babbling to the baby, "Aren't you so precious, Heather? You seem so happy now. Why were you giving your mom such a hard time, angel?"
The young mother smiled wearily at her child and the woman entertaining her daughter. "You're good with her ma'am. Do you have children?"
"No, I don't have any children," she replied, adding a silent, 'At least not yet.' "But I've spent enough time baby-sitting my godson to know something about kids. How old is she?"
"Two and a half months," the mother told her. She reached out to Heather, who automatically took hold of one of her mother's fingers in her little hand. The young woman smiled weakly before pulling her finger back. "Would you mind watching her for a second while I run to the bathroom?"
"No problem," Mac said, already completely taken in by the bubbly little girl. Waiting in line seemed to pass a little more quickly with Heather distracting her. Soon Mac was next in line, and Heather's mother still hadn't reappeared. She silently wondered if the young woman was okay as she approached an open teller.
"Good afternoon," the teller said cheerfully as Mac fumbled for her check with only one hand. The teller smiled at Heather, who screeched in delight in response. "You have a beautiful daughter."
"Oh, she's not mine. I'm just watching her for someone," Mac smiled back, finally managing to pull out the check and a completed deposit slip. The teller processed the transaction and handed a slip back to Mac.
"Have a nice day," she told Mac, then waved good-bye to Heather.
Mac shoved the deposit slip into her purse and did a quick scan of the room. She didn't see Heather's mother, so she walked towards the restrooms. Pushing the door open, Mac looked around the women's bathroom. She immediately saw Heather's diaper bag on the counter.
Realizing she didn't know the mother's name, Mac called out uncertainly, "Hello?"
There was no answer, so Mac walked down the row of stalls, pushing each door open. All were empty. Puzzled, Mac shifted the baby to her other hip and returned to the sinks. Examining the pastel diaper bag, she noticed a piece of paper wedged into the hole where the zipper parted. Mac pulled it out, and gasped as she read the hurried scrawlings left on the scrap of paper: I can't do this any more--I can't take care of Heather like I should. Please look after her for me.
It took Mac a minute to realize that this was actually happening to her. Once her brain grasped that fact, she pulled out her cell phone and expertly dialed a familiar number. "It's me, Harm," she said when he picked up, "Something came up, and I won't be back in the office for a while. I can't explain now, but could you cover for me? Please… Thanks! Could you do me one more favor… Send Harriet to the First National Bank down the street and ask her to bring the minivan… I promise I'll tell you everything later… I know I owe you. I have to go now… Okay, bye."
Mac looked down at Heather as she flipped her phone shut. The baby regarded her curiously, her little mouth open. "Well, kid. It looks like it's just you and me.
1815 Zulu
Roberts' Residence
Harriet drove her minivan into the driveway of her home with the skill of a soccer mom. Mac pulled up a few minutes later and parked at the curb.
"Thanks again for doing this," Mac said as she exited her car. Harriet was already unstrapping Heather from little AJ's car seat.
"It's no problem, ma'am," she said, handing Heather to Mac, who had her hands out and eagerly accepted the baby. "I just wish the car seat was more her size."
"It's better than no car seat, Harriet," Mac told her, not even bothering to get her to drop the formal 'ma'am.' "Are you sure you don't mind lending me his old baby car seat?"
Harriet smiled sadly, thinking of how her little Sarah should have been the one using the seat, which was currently collecting dust in the garage. "I'll just be glad it's being put to use."
Unlocking the door, Harriet led Mac to the living room, then went off to find the car seat. When she returned, Heather was screaming, and Mac was unsuccessfully trying to soothe her. Harriet set the car seat down and held her hands out to take the fussy child. It took her two seconds to diagnose the problem--a very wet diaper. A minute later, Harriet had the little girl quiet and dry. She cuddled the child for a moment before handing Heather back to the Mac.
"It's hard to believe a mother could just abandon her child," Harriet lamented. After a pause, she cautiously asked, "Ma'am, just out of curiosity, why haven't you called the police?"
"With all of the bureaucracy involved with an abandoned child case, she'd be stuck in a foster home while they take their time finding her family," Mac said quietly. "I didn't want that to happen to her, so I thought I'd find out on my own. I'll only involve Social Services if I think it is absolutely necessary… after I find out exactly who this little angel is."
"And how are you going to do that, ma'am?"
"With your help."
1532 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Admiral Chegwidden's Office
"Admiral, I need to request the next two days off for personal leave," Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie said stoically, standing at attention in her CO's office.
Chegwidden looked up from the report he was reading to regard the Marine standing before him. "And why should I grant leave for you, Colonel? You have the Dyer hearing tomorrow morning."
"I am aware of that, sir," she replied emotionlessly, "But Commander Rabb has been helping me prepare. I believe that he can adequately replace me as prosecution on this case."
"I see," he nodded slowly. "That's not much of an explanation, but whatever it is that you need time off for must be important to you. Otherwise, I doubt your request would be so last minute." He paused. "If the Commander has no objections, I don't see how it would be a problem. Dismissed."
"Aye, aye, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Oh, and Colonel," she stopped with her hand on the doorknob, waiting for him to continue, "Send Rabb in here so I can officially inform him of the change."
"Yes, sir," she responded. On the way to Harm's office, she grabbed the Dyer file out of her briefcase. She smiled as she knocked on his door, opening it before waiting for a reply.
"Well, well, well," he said, standing up when she entered, "look who finally decided to come back from the bank."
"You're just mad because I got my tax refund back before you did," she teased.
"And you still made me pay for lunch," he pouted.
"It was your turn to pay!" she exclaimed, playfully slapping him. Turning to leave, she tossed over her shoulder, "By the way, the Admiral wants you in his office ASAP."
"Uh-huh. Right," he sat back down and began reviewing his current case.
"Fine. Don't believe me," she started to leave.
He looked up at her standing half in, half out of his office and tried to decide whether or not she was joking. "Why would he want to see me? You're the one who played hooky this afternoon."
"But you're the one with a new case."
"What case?"
She walked back into his office and dropped the Dyer file in the middle of his desk. "This one."
He opened his mouth to ask the obvious 'why,' but Mac started talking again before he could articulate the single syllable. "Drop by tonight, and I'll explain."
By the time he made it out of his office, Mac was already across the bullpen to Harriet's desk. "Any luck, Lieutenant?" she asked.
"I'm printing the last of it now, ma'am."
Mac dropped her voice, "Thank you for your help, Harriet. I just need one more favor."
"Anything, ma'am."
"Keep this quiet. Since I'm not technically going through the proper channels for this, I want as few people to know as possible, and hopefully this will all work itself out."
"Understood, ma'am. That's not a problem," she smiled, picking up the stack of printouts. "May I suggest we go over these in your office, then?"
Mac smiled. "Right this way, Lieutenant."
Once the door closed, Mac had to ask something that had been nagging at her since she got back to JAG headquarters. "Are you sure that baby-sitter will be okay with her?"
Harriet laughed. "Ma'am, Teri is great with little AJ. Trust me--Heather will be fine. Besides, Teri's mom loves when her daughter baby-sits because afterwards, she swears she won't have kids till she's done with college and can afford a nanny!"
Laughing along with Harriet, Mac took a seat behind her desk while Harriet shuffled through her printouts.
"There were four Caucasian females born in hospitals in this area between two and three months ago with 'Heather' as their first or middle name." She laid the first printout in front of Mac. "Heather Florence Knight, born 18 April. Her mother, Jacqueline," Harriet laid a picture of the mother on top of the text printout.
Mac raised her eyebrows at the interesting picture. "Using the DMV database again, Harriet?"
"It's the best source of information on civilians, ma'am."
"If you say so." Then she sighed, "That's not her--too old."
Harriet continued in a similar manner. "Jordan Heather Cleeting, born 7 May. Her mother's name is Sadie Dillinger-Cleeting."
Again Mac shook her head.
"Heather Elaine Stevens, born 25 April. Kathryn Stevens, her mother."
This time when Harriet showed the picture, Mac recognized it immediately despite the fact that Kathryn looked like a deer caught in a car's headlights. "That's her."
Harriet picked the printout back up and read over it. "Ma'am, she barely 17 years old."
"And there's no father listed with the birth information," Mac said as she read through the document about Heather's birth. "Harriet, find me everything you can on Kathryn Stevens and any family she has in the area."
"Yes, ma'am," Harriet answered, leaving the printouts with Mac so she could start her new search.
2340 Zulu
Mac's Apartment
"It's unlocked," Harm heard from inside the apartment. When he walked into the main room of Mac's apartment, he stopped short at the scene in front of him.
"Uh, Mac, is there something you've been meaning to tell me?" he asked as soon as he had processed the fact that Mac was holding an infant.
She laughed quietly at the surprised look on his face as she gently pulled the bottle out of the sleeping baby's mouth.
"Remember that deal we had about going halves on a kid? Well, I know it's kind of early, and she doesn't look like either of us, but if she's got my brains, I think she'll go far." She smiled up at him, ignoring his wry look. "You can shut the door and come in already, sailor."
Chagrined at being caught off-guard, he did as he was told, then joined Mac on the couch. He watched her gaze at the tiny child she cradled in her arms with a tenderness and longing that seemed out of character with her usual persona.
"Baby-sitting?" he asked flippantly.
"In a manner of speaking," she replied sardonically. Heather sighed contentedly in her sleep, causing Mac's face to melt into a peaceful smile. Harm casually put an arm around Mac and relished the feeling of how right this seemed.
"Do you want to hold her?" Mac asked, already moving the child toward Harm so that he didn't have much of a choice. Pulling his arm from behind Mac, he gingerly accepted the little girl from her. Suddenly he understood the look he had seen in Mac's eyes when she was looking at the baby. Mac noticed the change in his demeanor as he held Heather delicately in his strong arms. Minutes passed, all of his questions about the child's identity lost for the moment.
"I guess we finally found a girl who can make you speechless. I think I might be jealous," Mac teased quietly, leaning against Harm and resting her head against his shoulder.
"Mac, where did she come from?"
He felt her laughter before he heard it. "Didn't your mother ever explain the birds and the bees to you?" She sobered when he didn't reply. "A teenage mother at the bank left her with me for a moment. She never came back, and I found her diaper bag in the bathroom. There was a note in it asking me to take care of her daughter."
"Are you saying you're just going to go along with this? You should have called…"
"Harm," she interrupted firmly, "I've already located the parents of the baby's mother, so this could all be resolved tomorrow without bringing the bureaucracy into it."
"This is why I got your case," he realized.
"No, I just thought you'd like something more exciting than a drunk and disorderly, so I decided to take a long weekend," she rolled her eyes.
"How thoughtful," he replied. Looking at her, his eyes locked with hers. Mac brought a hand to his face, placing it on his cheek. Just then, Heather stirred in his arms. Surprised by the movement, Harm broke eye contact to watch the baby squirm.
"I think she's dreaming," he said, almost awestruck by the infant.
"I think I'll put her down in her crib," Mac stood up and lifted the baby from Harm's arms, thinking she'd have a talk with the baby later about her timing.
"Where did you get a crib from?" Harm called after her.
"Harriet's lending me a few things, in addition to giving me all sorts of motherly advice," Mac called out to him from her darkened bedroom. Noticing a sudden eclipse to the light from the adjoining room, Mac looked up from the crib and saw Harm leaning in the doorway.
"What's her name?" he asked.
"Heather Elaine Stevens," Mac smiled, tucking a blanket around the tiny form. Harm moved into the room and leaned over the crib.
"Good night, Heather," he whispered as he reached down to stroke her fine chestnut hair. Mac leaned against his back and watched him. She reached out and pulled his hand out of the crib. Somehow, that hand wound up clasped in both of hers as they watched the baby sleep.
"So what now?" she asked, finally breaking the silence.
Harm smiled innocently in the near darkness. "We go over this case you dumped on me since I now have to be in court at 0800 hours tomorrow morning while someone else gets to sleep in…"
Thursday morning
1302 Zulu
Courtroom
Everyone was settling back into their seats after the entrance of the judge. The first order of business was the Dyer case. Harm was leaning back in his chair behind the table for the prosecution, his elbows resting on the edge of the table and his fingers steepled together. He was as ready as he would ever be after another late night with Mac spent analyzing every aspect of the Dyer case.
Behind the defense table, Bud was going over his notes one last time. His client was looking at the people who had come to observe the hearing. Captain Dyer acknowledged his mother and brother with a nod, then his eyes rested on an older woman with a little boy in her lap. The child was playing with a Matchbox car while the woman patted his curly head protectively. The boy's big brown eyes shone with innocence as he smiled up at his caretaker while Dyer watched.
"I can't do this," Dyer said aloud, interrupting his attorney, who had just begun to address the courtroom. Bud stopped mid-sentence, looking from the judge to his client.
"Pardon?" Bud asked politely.
"I can't do this," he repeated, tearing his eyes away from the child.
"Your Honor," Bud said, returning his attention to the judge, "May I have a moment to confer with my client?"
"Lieutenant, the hearing just started," the judge pointed out.
"I know, sir, and I'm sorry, but this will only take a moment," he said, adding a silent prayer that it would only take a moment. The judge grudgingly nodded his assent.
"Okay, now what do you mean you can't do this?" Bud whispered harshly to his client.
Looking straight ahead, Dyer said, "The little boy in the back--that's my son, Daniel. He's here with Moira's mother. I don't want to put him through this."
Misunderstanding the meaning behind what his client just told him, Bud suggested, "They can be asked to leave the room."
"No," he replied, finally looking at his attorney, "I can't put my son through this. Or Moira's mother. Or my mother and little brother. I don't want to drag Moira's memory through the mud to try to save myself a few years in the pen because I made a stupid decision."
"Are you saying you want to plead guilty?" Bud asked, thinking about all of the preparation he'd done for this trial.
"I am guilty," he said simply. He sounded like a man resigned to his fate.
"Are you sure about this?" Bud wanted to be sure. He glanced up when he heard the judge clearing his throat.
Dyer was looking at his son again when Bud turned back to him. "I just want this to be over, Lieutenant. Maybe someday my son will be able to forgive me for robbing him of both his parents."
Bud slowly rose from his chair to address the judge. "Sir, my client has asked to change his plea to guilty."
If the judge was surprised, he didn't show it. "Captain Dyer, are you prepared to accept the consequences of changing your plea?"
"Yes, sir, I am," the Captain replied. He looked back at his son one last time and knew he was doing what was best for his child.
2015 Zulu
357 Glyndon Street
Dunn Landing, Virginia
Mac pulled up in front of the Stevens residence. Glancing in the mirror, she checked her appearance one last time. Heather was with the same baby-sitter from the previous afternoon while Mac was out trying to find the baby's mother.
She tried to figure out what she was going to tell Kathryn's parents as she walked to the front door of the little brick house. Mac smoothed out her lavender blouse--she had decided it would be better if she did this as a civilian--and rang the bell. After a few moments, she heard keys jangling, then a lock clicked, and the door opened a crack. A tall older gentleman looked out at her.
"Mr. Stevens?" she asked, secretly hoping she had correctly guessed his identity.
"Yes?"
"My name is Sarah MacKenzie. I was wondering if I could talk to you about your daughter, Kathryn."
At the mention of his child's name, his expression turned hostile. Mac took an involuntary step back from the man--his expression was enough to intimidate even a United States Marine.
"I don't have a daughter by that name," he coldly informed her, then slammed the door in her face. Mac stood there for a minute, completely stunned. She hadn't known what reaction she would get, but she didn't expect this. She slowly walked back to her car and was getting ready to step inside the vehicle when she saw a woman coming around the side of the house. Mac closed her door again and waited for the woman to approach her.
"I'm sorry about my husband," she apologized. "I'm Jane Stevens. You were asking about Kathryn?"
"Yes, ma'am," Mac replied. She held out her hand. "I'm Sarah MacKenzie. It's nice to meet you."
A heavy silence hung over the two of them after they shook hands. Mac cautiously broke the silence, "Mrs. Stevens, do you know where your daughter is?"
The older woman looked at her visitor, unsure of how to respond. "Why do you ask?"
Taking a deep breath, Mac told her, "I think she left your granddaughter with me."
0030 Zulu
849 Poplar Drive
Idylwood, Virginia
Mac had parked behind a car she assumed must belong to Mrs. Stevens because she recognized it from her earlier interview with her. After profusely thanking Mac for caring her grandchild, Mrs. Stevens had told her about Kathryn's situation. Kathryn had been an average high school student who fell for a much older guy at work. Her parents hadn't known much about it until she ended up pregnant. The guy had denied it all, which led up to a nasty statutory rape trial. With results from a paternity test, the father had been convicted just weeks after Heather's birth. To make the situation worse, Kathryn's father had disowned her and kicked her out of the house when she told her parents about her pregnancy. She had been living with her aunt in the neighboring city of Idylwood while working to pay for Heather's care. Kathryn was an extremely independent young woman and wanted to be able to support herself and her child. The stress of working full time and trying to care and infant finally was too much for her to handle, and that's where Mac came into the picture.
Mac carefully unstrapped Heather from the car seat and thought about the phone call she had gotten an hour after leaving the Stevens' home. Kathryn had called her aunt, sobbing a confession of what she'd done. After leaving Heather, she had taken a bus to Atlanta, where her best friend was attending college. She was relieved to hear that Mac had found her family, and Heather was safe.
And now Mac was about to give the child back. Everything had happened so fast, and now she felt reluctant to hand the baby back over to her family. Willing herself not to cry, Mac held Heather close to her as she climbed the steps to the front door.
The door opened before she could knock. A woman approximately the same age as Mac took one look at Heather and burst into tears. Two heartbeats later, Mac was crying, too, as she passed the baby into the lady's waiting arms.
"I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" the woman said, holding Heather to her chest. She stepped aside so that Mac could enter. "Please come in. I'm Beth, if you hadn't figured that out yet."
Mrs. Stevens walked into the foyer with a box of tissues and offered it to the two sniffling women, pulling out a few Kleenex for herself. "Why don't we move into the living room," she suggested.
Once seated, the all laughed at their puffy red eyes.
A preschool-aged girl ran into the room and attacked Beth's leg. "Heffer's home?" she asked as she clambered up onto the couch.
"Yes, Meggie. Heather's home," Beth smiled at the two children. The older girl leaned down to kiss the baby's head. Looking up at Mac, Beth introduced the child. "Miss MacKenzie, this is my daughter, Margaret, or Meg, as we call her. If everything goes as planned, she's going to be Heather's big sister."
Mrs. Stevens stepped in to explain. "When Kathryn gets home, Beth and her husband are going to start the paperwork to adopt Heather. Kathryn will go back to school, and hopefully, she'll graduate in two years and go off to college, like she had hoped to do."
"That's wonderful." Mac put on a happy face so no one could see how hard it was for her to give Heather up. After an awkward pause, Mac said, "I'd love to stay, but I'm sure you would all like some time with Heather, and I have someone waiting for me back at home."
"That's okay, dear," Mrs. Stevens said, standing up to show their guest out.
"Thank you so much for taking care of our Heather," Beth said from the couch.
"You're welcome," Mac replied quietly. Alone in her car a minute later, Mac smiled sadly as she took a final look at the cheerful little house that Heather would grow up in. Sliding the key into the ignition, Mac started her car and drove away.
0035 Zulu
Mac's apartment
Harm slid a tray of cookies out of the oven and set them on the stovetop to cool. He blanched at the smell of the gooey treats. There was no way he would eat them, but he thought they might cheer Mac up when she got home. He'd offered to go with her to give Heather back, but she'd insisted on going alone. Instead, he'd gotten to take the baby items she'd borrowed from Harriet back to the Roberts' house. He'd let himself back in with her spare key after stopping by the supermarket for some easy-bake cookie dough and a half-gallon of milk.
He had just moved the cookies to a plate when he heard the door open and shut. Leaving the cookies in the kitchen, he walked into the main room. Mac dropped her purse and keys on a table, and then turned to him. "I'm glad you're here."
"Are you okay?" he asked, taking her into his arms.
"I'll be fine," she sniffed. "I just didn't know I would get so attacked to her in 31 hours. I was beginning to get used to taking care of a baby."
"Hearing your biological clock ticking?" he asked, only half-joking.
"Like a bomb ready to go off," she sniffed again, but this time she was able to smile back at him. "This is pretty pathetic, I know."
"No, I understand," Harm said tenderly as he sat her down on the couch. He remained standing. "The scary thing is, I spent a lot less time with Heather, and she still got to me."
She watched him disappear into the kitchen and return a minute later with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk. He set the plate in her lap and handed her the glass.
"You do such a good job taking care of me! First you tucked me in the other night when I crashed on your couch, and now you bake me cookies," she smiled, sampling a cookie. He sat at the other end of the couch and watched her devour the cookies as they both thought about the impact Heather had made on them in such a short time.
Mac was the first to speak after she had polished off the plate and licked the melted chocolate off of her fingers. "So how much longer do we have to go on that deal we made?"
He didn't even have to ask which deal she was referring to. They had both been feeling a little unfulfilled with life after little AJ's birth when they had agreed to go halves on a kid if they were both still unattached in five years.
"I thought you were the expert on time," he countered. She rolled her eyes. "We've got just under three years left. But I don't think I'm going to be able to keep that promise." He got up to take her plate and empty cup to the kitchen. With his back to her, she couldn't see his expression.
"Why?" she asked simply. She wasn't able to keep the disappointment out of her voice, and he smiled to himself when he heard it.
"Well, the deal was that we'd have a kid if neither one of us was in a serious relationship," he said, walking back into the living room. "I'm sorry, Mac, but I think I may have found the girl of my dreams."
Now that she could see his face and the flyboy grin he was sporting, she couldn't help but play along. "Oh, really? Why don't you tell me about her?"
She stood and walked into his arms as he started listing qualities, "Well, she's really smart, and beautiful, and a loyal friend, and she's trustworthy, and did I say beautiful already?"
"Flattery will get you nowhere, sailor," she smiled up at him.
"Did you think I was talking about you? I was thinking that in a few years, I could hook up with Heather…"
Mac pushed him away impishly. "Somehow I never pegged you for a cradle-robber, Harm."
"Yeah, well, I bet you didn't think I'd have the Dyer case wrapped up without having to say a word, either."
"You can attribute that to your 'superior' prosecuting skills if you'd like, but I wouldn't be putting it on my resume," she shot back as she looked through a stack of video rentals. Finding the tapes she wanted, she walked up to Harm, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. She handed him one of the videos. "I got you something when Heather and I went out this morning."
He looked at the title and smiled: Top Gun.
"But in order to watch yours, you have to sit through mine," she grinned wickedly as she popped the other tape into the VCR.
"Is it The American President again?" he asked sarcastically. She only continued to grin at him.
"Nope. It's the other movie I mentioned that night."
Harm's face grew thoughtful as he recalled the previous conversation. Then his face dropped. "Please say we don't have to watch The Parent Trap."
"I'm going to get you to like Disney, flyboy," she teased as she plopped down next to him and fast-forwarded through the previews. "What are you going to do someday when you're a father? Forbid kid movies in the house?"
"When that day comes, I'll watch those movies with my children, but till then, I'm enjoying being a childless bachelor who avoids kiddie flicks."
"At least it's good to know that you plan to adapt when the time comes," she joked, leaning back so the arm he had draped over the top of the couch was behind her. She pressed play, then looked up at him as the 'Feature Presentation' screen appeared. "Stop looking like I'm leading you to a fate worse than death. It's a cute movie--you just might like it."
"I don't like cute, Mac," he whined pitifully.
"You seemed to like Heather a lot," she replied innocently. His mouth opened, but it took him a moment to come up with a reply.
"That's not the same thing," he stuttered in protest, but a smile of triumph was already plastered on Mac's face.
"Sure," she drawled, sounding completely unconvinced. "Now why don't you and your overdeveloped macho ego hush up and just watch the movie with me."
"Yes, ma'am," he pretended to sound resigned to his fate, but as Mac snuggled into his shoulder to watch, he thought maybe it wouldn't be too bad…
Written June 19, 2001 – June 25, 2001