Chapter 12
Mac saw the first flames as she slipped along the fence toward the row of boathouses. A spike of terror rammed straight through her, and for a moment the decision that lay before her was paralyzing. Take off at a sprint and hope a solution would present itself, or take a moment to call again for help? Instantly she made the choice and reached for her phone, still moving as quietly as possible.
"My name is Colonel Mackenzie, and I just talked to you a few minutes ago," she said under her breath before the 911 operator could even get a word out. "I need the fire department at the Windward Marina right now. I don't have time to tell you the nature of the emergency. Something is burning, and someone is trying to get away with murder. That's all I've got for you. Just get me that backup."
Shoving the phone back into her pocket, she took off toward the boathouse in question as the flames licked higher across its walls. It wasn't a sturdy structure, she could tell. It wouldn't be long before the fire brought it down. Come on, Harm, do that hero thing…
A shadow caught the corner of her eye, and her blood went cold as she recognized the figure moving away from the fire. Mac reacted instinctively, drawing her sidearm and stepping out just as the figure neared. No way was such a despicable man going to simply walk away from this crime. "Hold it!"
Before she'd even finished speaking, Rupert had his own weapon out. The flickering light prevented him from seeing anything more than her silhouette, but his aim was steady. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Drop your weapon. I'm not alone."
"You certainly look it to me."
"In five minutes there will be more flashing lights around this place than Las Vegas has on its best night. I'm giving you an opportunity to live through this. You'd be wise to take it."
Hesitation was evident in the admiral's stance as he attempted to place the voice. "Who's making the offer?"
Mac stepped closer, and had the empty satisfaction of seeing Rupert go instantly pale. "How in the hell?" he demanded, briefly jerking his gaze back to the burning building in an attempt to figure out how she'd freed herself.
"Yeah, I'm a regular Houdini." Her voice was level, but edged in steel. "Did you not hear me before? I said drop it."
"And then what, Colonel? You going to stand guard over me while that place burns? I notice the commander isn't with you. Did you leave him behind? Are you going to let him die just so you can take me in? Not in the finest traditions of the Corps, is it?"
"Spoken like a swabbie," Mac fired back, allowing her anger to mask the panic that was rising along with the level of the flames. Over Rupert's shoulder, she could see the boathouse beginning to list to one side, and she hastily composed both a plan of attack and a fervent prayer that she wasn't condemning Harm and Diane to a fiery death by her actions.
When the structure collapsed with a sharp crack, the sound startled Rupert enough to give Mac a brief advantage. She took it, firing twice into his lower quarter. The first bullet struck his calf, the second his knee. The admiral collapsed with a cry and lay, writhing, as the first sirens neared their location. His gun tumbled from his fingers, landing in the dirt with a dull thump.
"One for each of them," Mac told him coldly as she kicked the weapon out of his reach. "Would you like one for Anthony Zonne, too?"
A half-dozen squad cars came screaming into the marina, spilling officers onto the gravel roads and docks. "Secure," Mac shouted to them. Getting out her ID, she waved them over, finally letting her weapon fall to her side. "This man set that blaze over there, and there are probably two people still inside."
She didn't hear whatever response the officer in charge gave as she turned back to the burning rubble of the boathouse. Maybe they got out somehow. Maybe they fell into the water. They could have fallen into the water, couldn't they? Please, God…
Unconsciously, she took a step toward what remained of the dock, watching helplessly as the fire crew swarmed over it. Then something moved out in the inky darkness of the water, and her attention snapped toward the motion. The unmistakable forms of two people dragging themselves onto the nearby boat ramp nearly made her legs buckle in sheer relief.
"Thank you," she whispered to the night air, and started toward them.
#
Gasping for breath, Harm leaned against the nearest post, drawing his partner into a tight embrace. "You okay?" he rasped, the combination of smoke and salt water grating on his lungs like sandpaper. Mac nodded silently, huddling against him and shivering. "Good. Now for the love of God, don't do anything like that ever again, you got that?"
Her head jerked slightly, but her voice remained hoarse and muffled by his blackened, soaked uniform shirt. "What– "
"Mac, when have I ever said or done anything to make you believe I'd be okay with you getting hurt for my sake? Have I ever given you the impression that I'd be anything less than devastated by such a thing? Why in the hell did you come after me?"
She turned her head so she could be more clearly heard. "I had to."
Something in her voice, and in her tone, stopped him cold. Harm pulled back and stared at her, seeing the difference in her eyes as if for the first time. Everything clicked into place at that moment: all of her actions made more sense… and less.
Diane offered a halfhearted smile of apology. "Surprise," she said softly.
Thunderstruck, he could only watch in disbelief as Mac hurried down the ramp toward them, clad in BDUs and a sidearm holster. "I'm sorry," she said breathlessly, dropping to her knees beside them. "I tried to follow him into the marina, but the security's too good. It took a while to find a way in. Are you guys okay?"
"He's burned," Diane said, tugging at the ruined fabric of Harm's trousers. The swollen mark, forgotten until then, began to sting.
"And bleeding," Mac added, reaching toward the rough gash across his wrist.
Harm looked from one woman to the other, trying to work out the situation in his mind and failing entirely.
"This has been the weirdest freaking week," he muttered, sagging back against the post. "If it's okay with you ladies, I'm just going to pass out now, okay?"
Mac caught the front of his shirt in her fist. "Don't even think about it, sailor. We've got a monster debrief ahead of us."
She turned as a pair of paramedics approached them. "These two could use some oxygen," she directed somewhat unnecessarily, edging herself out of the way.
Harm noticed the faint wince as she moved, and immediately pushed away the mask being offered to him. "Mac, what's up?"
She shrugged off his concern. "Nothing big. It's just that my alternate point of entry into the marina involved some concertina wire."
Diane motioned one of the medics over to Mac, taking a long pull from the oxygen mask she'd been given. "Well, at least we won't have to find ourselves somewhere to spend the night," she pointed out between breaths. The other two looked at her, and she shrugged. "The ER will probably be all too happy to keep us."
"Normally I'd argue that just on principle, but right now I'll take any bed I can get." Harm closed his eyes for a moment, finally beginning to see the evening's events with a semblance of clarity. "The two of you did this together," he stated quietly, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. "You figured it out somehow, and you came after me together."
"It was a team effort in just about every sense of the word." Mac shared a glance with Diane, one that was surprisingly pure in origin. "Who else would you expect to have your back, after all?"
Harm only shook his head. "I'm not sure I deserve either of you, much less both." Something about that choice of phrase struck him as wrong, but he was too tired to address it just yet. For now, he could take comfort in the fact that both of them—all of them—were safe.
#
It took most of forty minutes to explain the chain of events to Admiral Chegwidden the next day. Fortunately, they'd already gone through the entire explanation with the Virginia Beach police, and given an abbreviated version to the D.C. Homicide detectives, so by that point the three of them had the story down to an efficient, polished joint briefing.
Their poise wasn't enough to impress the JAG, however. His gaze swept across the trio, meeting each pair of eyes before moving on.
"Lieutenant Schonke, I thought I'd heard it all before from these two, but this has got to be the first time they've dragged someone who was totally uninvolved into one of their misadventures."
Diane stood next to the partners, automatically at attention despite her civilian dress. "There was no dragging necessary, Admiral. When I offered to help Colonel Mackenzie go through the files and we began to get a picture of who the killer was, I had no intention of sitting around and waiting for the situation to resolve itself. So at that point, I was as involved as involved gets."
Chegwidden pinned her with an intimidating stare. "I see. You were helping Colonel Mackenzie go through the files. Because non-JAG personnel are always allowed full access to our files, aren't they, Colonel?"
Mac's lips twitched at the sarcasm in their superior's tone. "That was a breach of protocol, sir, and I apologize for it. I assure you, it won't happen again."
The Admiral pursed his lips. "It had better not. I appreciate the fact that a greater good was served, but from now on, let's try to keep things a little more orderly around here, shall we?" His eyes swept over them, making it clear that this was by no means a request.
"Yes, sir," they chorused.
"All right. Now that we've got that covered, I trust that no one is too worse for wear after last night?"
"We're fine, sir," Harm answered for them, sliding his hand down to cover the bandage on his wrist. "Looking forward to nailing Admiral Rupert at trial."
The Admiral snorted. "Well, Commander Turner will no doubt want to hear all about your intended testimony. Just let him prosecute without standing over his shoulder the whole time."
Chegwidden rose from his desk and stepped around to address Diane directly. "Lieutenant, I can't say I'm thrilled to discover that you're cut from the same cloth as these two, but all the same, your actions last night were above and beyond the call. I don't have any mechanism to commend you for that since your military status is still a little vague, but hopefully this will do. This morning I put in a call to Admiral Wendland down at Norfolk to, ah, advise him of your situation. He agreed with my assertion that your departure from the Navy occurred under the most unusual of circumstances and was not motivated by any desire to abandon your responsibilities. There will be no charges filed. A letter of reprimand will be added to your file should you choose to reactivate your commission." The Admiral's steely eyes held a hint of amusement. "Admiral Wendland also mentioned that if you decide to come back he has some contacts at Naval Intelligence who would be very interested in talking with you."
Diane found herself temporarily at a loss. In a very short period of time, the pieces of her life had gone from a jumbled mess to something that closely resembled order. There were other pieces to arrange, of course, but this was a far better start than she could have reasonably hoped for.
"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, not sure what else to say. "I'll do my best to deserve everything you've just given me."
"I don't doubt it. Good luck to you. Commander, Colonel, a significant amount of work has been collecting on your desks recently." His tone implied that they'd been neglecting their jobs rather than hunting down a cold killer. A small, wry smile softened the impact. "I know this because I just told Tiner to add to it. The wrongful disposition investigation is being reopened. There are a couple of names that need to be cleared—Master Chief Zonne's among them. Get to it. Dismissed."
"Aye-aye, sir."
Harm turned to Diane as soon as they had filed out of the admiral's office. "Well, that just saved us a lot of paperwork. A letter of reprimand? Granted, it'll be the longest letter of reprimand on record, but once anyone makes their way through the whole explanation, they'll understand the situation." He flashed an encouraging smile at her, which she returned with a tinge of apprehension. He seemed to comprehend, lowering his voice. "That is, assuming the Navy is what you want."
"I'd like to talk to you about that, actually." Diane twisted her hands in front of her. "About—where we go from here, I guess."
"Sure," he said simply, with a fair imitation of nonchalance. "Now?"
"Good a time as any."
He held out a hand toward his office. Diane followed his lead, too wrapped up in what she needed to say to notice Mac slipping back into her own office with a stiffened spine.
Harm sat down on the corner of his desk, waving Diane into the chair in front. "So you've thought about your options some more?" he asked, fixing his gaze on a point somewhere on the far wall.
"I have. And I think I know what I want—actually, I think I knew it before the Admiral got me off the hook, but that does make it a little easier." She paused for a split-second, trying to choose her words, but he misinterpreted the silence.
"Di, maybe this would be a good time for me to say something—"
"I'm going back to the Navy," she interrupted him, anxious to get the statement out before she could reconsider it yet again. "I need to. I've missed it, more than probably anyone but you could imagine. It's what I chose from the beginning, and no matter what's happened over the past six years, that's still the person I want to be. If Naval Intelligence wants me, that's great. If it's something else, then okay. However it works out… I want that life again."
Harm didn't respond, and Diane wondered if he understood his feelings any better than she did at that moment. She gave him a weak smile and continued, "And it's okay, because you were about to tell me that the two of us were never going to work. Weren't you?"
Surprised, he started to deny it, then shook his head and surrendered. "I don't think that was the exact phrase I had in mind."
"Did you have any kind of exact phrase in mind at all?"
"Can we stay on topic here?" Harm tried to grin at her, but it quickly fell away. "Di, you're always going to be beyond special to me. You know that."
"I do, and I'm grateful for it every day. But I'm not the girl who snuck off the grounds for pizza anymore, and you're not the guy who quietly kicked everyone's butts in aerodynamics, either. We both realize that." She paused, daring to meet his eyes. "For a long time, I know you saw me when you looked at her, but now I think the positions may have reversed."
He opened his mouth to contradict her, but she stopped him with a single shake of her head. "I'm not talking about last night. Well, in a way, I am, but not like that. It was only natural for you to assume I was her, then—that was the whole point. But it gave me a glimpse of how you look at her, and now that I've seen that, I can do this."
She stood up and pressed her lips to his in the gentlest of kisses. "Be happy, Harm," she whispered into his ear. "You've long since earned it."
He caught her in a brief embrace and she closed her eyes, letting herself be strengthened by his touch one more time.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"For what? Giving you company in captivity last night?"
He shook his head. "For completely obliterating my world… and leaving it a far better place than it was when you found it."
After a long moment, Diane stepped back, eyes bright. "Well, I guess I've got some calls to make. Can I trust that you'll give me a full after-action report following your next meaningful conversation with Mac?"
"Get out of here," he grumbled good-naturedly, watching her leave with a wistful smile. "Hey, before you go—there was one more thing you asked for my help on when you first showed up. I just want to make sure you know that, whenever you want to do that, I'll be here."
She glanced down for a second, comprehending, and nodded. "Thank you. I'll call. As soon as I'm ready, I'll call you."
#
After Diane's departure, Harm leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at the wall. His mind wandered through memories—first of Diane, then Mac. His memories of Diane had always been filled with a sense of... incompleteness. He thought it was because of her death, because a piece of his heart had been ripped away. But getting Diane back hadn't healed that hole, he realized now—and her death hadn't caused it in the first place. That part of him had always been empty.
Until he met Mac. Somewhere between Red Rock Mesa and the Russian taiga she'd slipped into his heart, completing him. But he hadn't realized it. He'd been foolish enough to mistake the memory of that aching hole for the real thing.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, searching for a way to open this all-important dialogue with Mac. At last, he decided to stop stalling and just wing it. It had to come out somehow, and it couldn't be any worse than some of their previous attempts.
Bracing himself, he rose to his feet. He strode purposefully across the bullpen and opened her door, expecting to hear her chide him for not knocking first. Instead, he found her lamp turned off, her computer powered down, and her briefcase and cover gone.