PART SIX
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 2008
BARRACKS/DORM
NAVAL ACADEMY
ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND
0635
HARM'S POV
As Election Day drew closer, I'd been having less and less work to keep me busy at the office, so, though as a father I felt for the Senator, it was the light workload that allowed me the time to work on the case. At the same time, having a case to work on was making me feel as if I were being productive and not just shuffling papers as we waited to find out who'd be our new President.
After I'd checked in at the administration office, I'd walked across the campus, hearing the sounds of men calling cadence, but a quick look over my shoulder had revealed no one.
The cadence had been inside my head, a recalled memory of my life on this campus many years ago.
Coming to stand in front of the statue where I'd agreed to meet Midshipman Pemberton for the first interview of the day, I couldn't help but think of my days as a midshipman here and wondered fleetingly if Keeter or Turner ever came back to visit the campus.
After speaking with Midshipman Pemberton, I made my way to the sports field where, upon the end of morning exercises, I met Midshipman Ellery.
As I walked the Academy grounds in the cool autumn morning, it brought back more memories of the days when I'd made similar treks from one place to another before, between and after classes.
My final interview of the morning is with Midshipman Chissom's roommate, and he agreed to meet with me at his barracks before morning chow call.
Entering the old building, I have another feeling of familiarity, and with it comes the realization that, though I wouldn't describe my years here as happy ones, it wasn't because of the school or my experiences here. It was the baggage that I'd brought with me.
The sense of loss that had come with having an MIA father, the empty feeling that I'd carried at not having closure about what had happened to him, the anger that I'd felt at not being able to find my father that summer when I'd gone to look for him, guilt over the death of Gym, and resentment towards my mother for declaring my father dead and moving on with Frank are just a few of the things that I'd carried within me in those days.
Standing in the common room of the barracks and staring out the window, I hear the voice of a young man who breaks through my reflections of a time long ago.
"Captain Rabb?"
KITCHEN
RABB RENTAL HOME
MANASSAS, VIRGINIA
0827
I had hoped that my trip home would take less time, but knowing that it had taken me an hour to get to the Academy this morning, I was thankful that my drive back to the house took only an hour and fifteen minutes.
When no one was in the living room, I headed for the kitchen, hoping to find at least part of the current household dwellers in there so that I could inform them that I was home.
I found my mother and grandmother in the kitchen and was about to retreat to go in search of Mac, but I didn't move quickly enough, and my grandmother caught sight of me.
Having stepped into the kitchen far enough to come into her view, my grandmother speaks, "Harm, you're back. Join us for coffee?"
"Did you have breakfast, dear? I could make something for you," my mother offers right after my grandmother's welcome.
"No, Mom, I don't need anything to eat. Grandma was up and fed me a blueberry muffin and coffee before I left this morning," I reply while maintaining eye contact with my mother. Then looking at my grandmother, I continue, "I'd love another cup of coffee and to join you, but I have work to do, so I just came in to tell you that I decided that I could work from home between appointments today so that, if you heard any strange noises coming from the den, you'd know that it was just me."
"You should sit and have your coffee with us. Frank chose to entertain Matt and Sami, but Mac will be back in a minute. She just went to put Patty back in her bed. You'd have the undivided attention of all of the women in the house," my grandmother says with a chuckle.
"As nice as that sounds, I've got work to do, and no matter how wonderful the company would be if I stayed, my work won't get done with me sitting in here chatting. Please let Mac know that I'm the one who's rattling about when she rejoins your little coffee klatch," I say with my charming smile firmly planted on my face.
"Okay, dear, but at least take a cup of coffee in there with you," my mom says, starting to stand in order to pour it for me.
"Thanks, but relax. I'll get it," I say while motioning for my mother to stay seated as I move towards the coffee maker.
DEN
SEVEN MINUTES LATER
There's a soft knock on the door.
As the door opens a crack, Mac's voice comes into the room. "Harm?"
"Yes, it's me. Didn't my mom or grandma tell you that I was home?"
She opens the door fully.
"They told me, but I didn't want to barge in if you were on the phone with your client. However, I was curious and wanted to ask if you got anything useful during your interviews this morning."
"Can you call him my client? I mean, he isn't accused of anything." My voice trails off as I contemplate the answer to my own question, but after a momentary pause, I speak again, "Well, whatever he is, I did try to call him, but I had to leave a message."
"I didn't mean to disturb you," Mac says, assuming that I hadn't heard the rest of what she'd said and that she should excuse herself and let me get to work.
"Not curious anymore?" I question.
"Yes, but you seem a little distracted. I don't want to make things worse," Mac informs me, seemingly surprised that I'd heard that she was curious about my case.
"Up too early without enough coffee..." I joke, lifting my coffee mug "...but if you'll have a seat, I'll tell you my theory as to why the one midshipman might want his attorney present when I interview him."
Mac closes the door and moves to sit in the chair in front of my desk.
"It sounds like you got some new information this morning. So fill me in," Mac says curiously while taking a seat.
I swallow a gulp of my now lukewarm coffee before I respond to her request.
Torn as to whether or not I can call the Senator a "client," which would bind me to keep his confidence, I decide that, since I'm looking into the mysterious disappearance of the Senator's son at his request, I should be able to share the information, telling anyone who might be able to help me - and it's Mac, not the press. She can be trusted. So I decide to fill in Mac and that using their real names will lessen the confusion when I tell her about my morning interviews.
"I got pretty much the same story from all three midshipmen who I interviewed. I don't know if it's a motive for wanting him out of the way, but by all accounts, Midshipman Henderson, who wants me to talk to him with his lawyer present, and Chissom have never gotten along, and the week prior to Chissom's disappearance, they almost came to blows," I say as I place my coffee mug down on the desk.
"The night that Chissom disappeared, though no one believes that Chissom and Henderson saw each other prior to meeting at Midshipman Ellery's car to leave the Academy that evening, they all agreed that Henderson came to the car agitated about something," I say, continuing to inform her about what I'd been told this morning.
"Meaning that there's no reason to think that Henderson was angry with or at Chissom that day," Mac says to clarify her understanding.
"Correct, but I'm sure that the police have tapped Midshipman Henderson as their prime suspect in Chissom's disappearance," I respond.
"Do you have an appointment to talk with Henderson and his attorney yet?" Mac asks.
"Henderson's attorney called me about an hour ago. I've set up an appointment to meet with him at his office in Arlington at 1300. Since the midshipman should be in class at that hour, I don't have the impression that I'll be seeing him there, but I'll find out what I can and hope that it answers some of my questions."
I lean back in my chair and look at my note pad, mentally reviewing the information that I've received up to this point.
"I know that look, Harm," Mac says with a grin.
"What look?" I ask innocently, unaware that my expression conveyed to her that I'm trying to work through the facts to a logical conclusion.
"The one that you have when you're trying to make sense out of something, but the pieces don't fit together."
"Oh, that look," I reply, wondering when I'd acquired 'a look' for that, but she's right. That's exactly what I was doing.
"If you tell me more about your interviews this morning so that I have as much information as you do, maybe I can help," Mac suggests.
I reach for my notepad.
"Here are my notes," I say, offering her my legal pad.
Mac starts to review the information.
After a few moments, she looks up from the notepad.
"You have a note here about Chissom's grades, but it's crossed out. Why?" she asks.
"I got the idea that maybe his disappearance might have something to do with his academic standing when his roommate, Midshipman Kincaid, told me that the only thing odd about Chissom's behavior lately was that he'd been studying a lot more. Chissom was an A/B student last year, and except for a C in Naval History, his grades are in the same range so far for this year, as well. I crossed out my note when I figured that he hadn't been at the top of his class, so having one average grade wouldn't be a reason to want to disappear."
"Makes sense," Mac says before returning her eyes to the paper in her hand.
After reading the rest of my notes, which doesn't take long, Mac looks up at me once again.
"Do you want me to go first or do you want to tell me your ideas, and I'll just add any that I've had that you don't mention after you've finished?" Mac inquires, wanting to help me with the case.
"You show me yours. I'll show you mine," I say with a wiggle of my eyebrow.
Mac's cheeks take on the rosy hue of a blush, her face not able to hide her interest in doing just that once again. However, she doesn't verbally acknowledge my sexual innuendo. Instead, she keeps her focus on the case at hand - the missing midshipman.
"Assuming that it wasn't a ghost as your first witness suggested, let's say that, though no one knew about their running into each other, Chissom and Henderson did have some kind of a run-in at some point during the day prior to them all going out that night. How would he have gotten the body out of the house undetected and in the dark? Not only would he have had to know that the lights would be going out, but when. Henderson would also have had to know the floor plan of the house well enough to be able to maneuver in the dark with a body without any trace that a crime had been committed," Mac ponders out loud.
"My thoughts exactly, which has me thinking that perhaps Chissom didn't meet with some movie-of-the-week violence." I take a breath. "Let's suppose that, when the lights went out, the creak that was heard was a loose floorboard, and Chissom lost his balance, hitting the floor, which would explain the thud that was heard, but in his fall, he hit his head. An injury to the head could have made him disoriented and, in the darkness, he wandered off."
If Mac was going to say something, I don't give her the chance.
"That scenario sounds good except when you factor in that the search dogs didn't pick up his scent. If he'd managed to get out of the house in the dark and was disoriented, he wouldn't have been able to cover his tracks. The dogs would've been able to pick up something," I say, discrediting my own theory.
"I think that, when the Senator calls, I'll advise him that, unless the police have come up with some new leads, it's time to ask the public for help in finding his son," I announce, wondering if Mac will offer another idea.
"What if he wasn't disoriented but used the darkness to slip away? Maybe he wanted to get away to see a girl, for instance," Mac theorizes.
It's Mac's turn to discredit her own thought.
"That can't be it because it has the same flaw. How did he get away from the house without leaving a trail of some kind?" Mac asks, shaking her head. "Not to mention that he could've used his liberty time to go see a girl instead of going out with the boys," Mac adds.
"That's my problem with this case. Every time I think that I've figured it out, I have more than one reason why it can't be that," I inform her.
"Well, whether Henderson is responsible or Chissom managed to do this on his own, we have to give them credit for coming up with a good Halloween mystery," Mac states with an appreciative smile.
"What if one or more of the midshipmen are in on it, but it isn't a crime? It's a practical joke that they set up for Halloween," I offer.
"If it were a joke, why wouldn't Chissom have shown up by now?" Mac asks, negating my theory.
"Maybe they thought that it was going to be a cool gag and freak out a couple of little old ladies on the tour who believe in ghosts, and then they'd meet up later and have a laugh about it, but when the police got called, Chissom got scared and hasn't come out of hiding," I reply, but begin to shake my head. "No, that scenario doesn't explain the lack of physical evidence either, which makes it look like he vanished into thin air."
My cellphone rings, and I pick it up.
The caller ID has only a number, but since I dialed the number not that long ago, I recognize it.
"It's the Senator," I inform Mac.
"I'll leave while you talk to him," Mac whispers as I flip open my phone to take the call as she leaves to let me speak with the Senator in private.
OFFICE OF HOWARD BOSLEY
ATTORNEY AT LAW
ARLINGTON, VA
1300
I enter to find a man standing to greet me.
"Captain Rabb, thank you for coming to my office to meet with me on behalf of my client."
"So I was correct in assuming from our conversation this morning that Midshipman Henderson won't be joining us, Mr. Bosley."
"Midshipman Henderson's parents asked me to advise their son after he was questioned by the police on the night of the incident. It's on my advice that he isn't willing to speak with you without counsel present, and though the Henderson family and I are concerned about the Senator's missing son, we're in agreement that allowing you to question their son again on a matter that the police have already interrogated him about would interfere with his studies."
"I understand his parents' concern for their son's education and his future career as a naval officer. However, if he has nothing to hide, I don't see why they wouldn't allow me to interview him. I was at the Academy this morning. I could have spoken to him there before his classes like I did his classmates. I'm willing to go back this evening and speak with him there after his classes if that would be more convenient for him..." Remembering the young man's insistence on the phone that his attorney be present, I quickly add, "...and you, too, of course."
"He won't speak with you here, at his school or anywhere else. Have I made myself clear, Captain Rabb?"
"Yes, you've made yourself crystal clear. However, there's a mother who doesn't know if her son is alive or dead, and it could be possible that Midshipman Henderson has information that might help in establishing whether we should be looking for a live person or a corpse, and I believe that, if your client wants to measure up to the standards that'll be required of him as an officer in the Navy, not to mention as a decent human being, he'd step up to help find Midshipman Chissom if he could, even if it meant speaking with me."
"Why are you even involved in this case, Captain Rabb? Are you working for the police?" Mr. Bosley asks, eyeing me curiously.
"No. I'm looking into it at the request of the Secretary of the Navy."
"What's his interest in the missing student?"
"I have no idea, Mr. Bosley."
"Just following orders, then, huh?" Mr. Bosley says with a hint of sarcasm.
"Yes, but there is something else." I raise my hand to show him my ring. "As a graduate of the Academy myself, I feel a kinship to the missing midshipman and want to help locate him."
I don't know if finding out that I graduated from the Academy has made a difference or if Mr. Bosley has just resigned himself to the fact that, if the Secretary of the Navy is involved, it means that he can either cooperate with me or the next person who the SecNav sends when I don't get any results.
"Abe...Midshipman Henderson cooperated with the police. I have a copy of the statement that he gave them the night that Chissom disappeared. I also have copies of statements from all of the witnesses from that night as well as a copy of the police report from that night for you. I don't think that a face-to-face interview with young Mr. Henderson is necessary, do you?" Mr. Bosley says, offering a file folder to me.
"I have no way to be certain, of course, until I read the statements. Have you read them, Mr. Bosley?"
"Of course, I have," Mr. Bosley replies indignantly, assuming that I was implying that he wasn't doing his job.
"I ask because then you should be able to tell me if I'll find the answers to some of my questions in these statements. For instance, why was your client agitated at the start of the evening? Why didn't he like Midshipman Chissom?" I stop in order to give Mr. Bosley time to answer.
"The reason why he was upset earlier in the evening isn't relevant to finding young Mr. Chissom. As for your other question, with very different personalities, they weren't the best of friends and didn't hang out with each other outside of a group setting. Not everyone gets along, nothing mysterious in that, and not a motive for committing a crime either."
I think that the wording of Mr. Bosley's response is odd, but it's no proof that he nor his client has committed a crime. However, I suspect that he is hiding something.
I wonder if Bosley is concealing something that Midshipman Henderson has confided to him or if he's keeping a family secret. Either way, it's protected by attorney/client privilege, so I won't push him to reveal it.
If Mr. Bosley doesn't see me as a threat to his client or his family, I stand a better chance of being allowed to interview Midshipman Henderson in the future.
"You've been very helpful, Mr. Bosley. I'll read over the information that you've given me and I'll call you if I have any questions," I say sincerely.
By whatever means he'd come by it, Senator Chissom had provided me with only one document, a copy of the preliminary police report that had a brief synopsis of what the midshipmen had reported that night and the name of one woman who was supposedly the only witness.
Since Senator Chissom wanted me to investigate as quietly and discreetly as possible, I couldn't request the information that Bosley has just given me without sending up a red flag, so Mr. Bosley has been very helpful in that regard.
"I hope you know that I'm only doing my job and that the Hendersons and I all hope that the boy is found alive and well."
"I certainly hope that's the case. Thank you for your time, Mr. Bosley," I say with a raised eyebrow before departing his office.
MASTER BEDROOM
RABB RENTAL HOME
MANASSAS, VA
1630
I arrived home about fifteen minutes earlier than I would've on a normal work day and was quickly greeted by each of my children once I'd reached the living room.
Once hugs with my young children had been given and received, I excused myself to change my clothes before dinner.
It's become a habit of mine to rid myself of the uniform when I come home for the day because, inside the walls of my home, branch of service or rank doesn't matter. At home, I'm a father and a husband, and my family is my number one priority.
Moments after leaving the living room, I rid myself of my jacket, and by the time I've reached our bedroom, I have my shirt unbuttoned.
I enter the bedroom, tugging my shirt out of the waistband of my pants.
I abandon undressing when I see Mac either lowering our most recent addition to the family into her bassinet or lifting her out of it. It's hard to tell.
The one thing that's clear to me is that Mac is leaning over the bassinet.
I close the door slowly so that it won't make any noise in case it's the former before moving towards the bassinet, but just then my baby girl begins to wail.
"Is she getting up or going down?" I question, keeping my voice low in case I hadn't been as quiet as I'd thought, and my entering the room had awakened Patty and she'd settle down if she didn't hear my voice.
"No reason to be quiet. I thought that she was finally going to sleep in her bed, but no such luck," Mac replies in frustration-laced words as she stands up straight with Patty in her arms.
"So I didn't wake her?" I ask with a hint of relief in my voice.
"I'd like to blame you, but the fact is that she's been like this all day today. She'll fall asleep with someone holding her…just barely stir when I pass her to someone else to give my arms a rest, but the moment that I try to lay her down, she wakes up."
Having reached Mac as she spoke, I place a kiss on her cheek while letting her continue to explain.
"Your mother suggested that she might not be feeling well, but she doesn't have a fever. She's been eating just fine today, too. She hasn't been this way before. I don't understand it." Mac pauses to take an exasperated breath. "Your grandmother said that, without a fever, it's probably something small like something I ate that's given her an upset tummy, but I haven't eaten anything fried or spicy recently."
"Maybe she just missed her daddy today more than usual. Why don't you let me take her for a while?" I say, raising my arms to take Patty from Mac, who's obviously upset by not being able to comfort our daughter today.
"What about your case? Don't you have to work on it this evening?" Mac questions, not releasing the baby to me.
I lower my arms, unsure if Mac really thinks that I need to work or if it's a diversionary tactic because she doesn't want to relinquish her hold on our five-week-old daughter to me, no matter how frustrated she is at not knowing what's causing our baby to fuss.
"I was just doing some poking around so that I could be satisfied that I was giving the Senator sound advice with as much information as I could gather. However, since there's an urgency to the situation, I believe that I've spent as much time on gathering facts as I dare, and that's why I met with the Senator and his wife this afternoon to give my recommendation. After some discussion, they informed me that they'll be making a public appeal this evening for information regarding their son's whereabouts. So, though I wish that I'd found their son, my job is done, and I can be on full-time dad duty tonight if you don't mind me taking over the watch."
Glancing at my open shirt, Mac says, "Why don't you finish changing so that you're comfortable and then you can hold our girl?"
Deciding that it's a good idea to finish changing clothes, I pull my shirt off my shoulders and then remove my t-shirt while Mac, who's still standing next to the bassinet holding Patty, questions me about the Chissoms' choice to speak out tonight.
"Harm, do you think that tonight is the best time for the Chissoms to make a plea? I ask because their press conference might get lost in all of the election coverage that will be taking up the majority of the air time tonight."
"They considered that and decided that it might work in their favor. They're hoping that, by making their plea for information on their son's whereabouts on the six o'clock news that more people than usual will have on their televisions to see the election coverage, but since it'll be on before the polls even close, they don't think that their message will get lost among the election results," I answer while stripping off my pants.
"I hope that it works out for them. I can't imagine what his mother must be going through. I don't even want to think about how crazed I'd be if one of our children were missing."
"Well, I took inventory when I came in, and all of them are accounted for, so you don't need to worry about anything like that."
"All but one," Mac mutters barely audibly. "I'm going to put Patty in her bassinet while you finish getting dressed because I'm going to go call Mattie right now to make sure that she's all right."
I smile at Mac's maternal need to know that all of our children are safe.
LIVING ROOM
2210
I don't usually watch much television, even though my house now has two of the contraptions, but I have been watching the news tonight.
I watched the six o'clock newscast and caught the Senator's plea for information on his son, and now I'm watching the continuing coverage of the election results.
Needing to give my eyes a break from staring at the screen, I turn to Mac, who's currently the one holding Patty. We've been taking turns, and since Patty finished nursing just minutes ago, it's Mac's turn to hold her.
"I've been giving it some thought and I have a theory as to why our baby girl hasn't wanted to be put down all day," I say suddenly.
Mac looks at me with a questioning expression, including a raised eyebrow.
"Sami seemed to be more energetic than usual today. My theory is that, with her sister bouncing off the walls, the house hasn't been as quiet as usual, and Patty was over stimulated. Being held was the only thing that made her feel comfortable enough to sleep. With everyone else in bed now, she might sleep fine in her crib or bassinet."
"I don't want to put her in her crib for the first time after she's had so much trouble sleeping today, but it wouldn't hurt to try to put her in the bassinet in our room again. Don't you want to stay up to see who your new Commander in Chief is? We'll stay with you until you're ready to go to bed."
"The results are already pointing decidedly in one direction, so I don't think that staying up to watch for another couple of hours is going to make any difference. I'm ready to head to bed now."
"Then, if you're ready, let's see about getting some sleep," Mac says as I stand up and reach to lift Patty out of her arms to make it easier for her to stand.