Right to Silence

JAG Virtual Season 2003 - Episode No. 4

Author: Daenar (daenarchurill@yahoo.de)
Disclaimer: JAG is property of Belisarius Productions, CBS and Paramount Pictures. No copyright infringement intended.

Rating: 12+

Summary: Facing a dreadful suspicion, Lt. Cdr. Teresa Coulter decides to stretch the concept of "medical confidentiality".

Spoilers: Everything up to 'A Tanled Webb I' and VS episodes 1-3.

Many, many thanks to Jen for organizing this year's VS and for inviting me to join, to Bree for creating the wonderful site and to Cathleen for doing such beautiful graphics; special thanks to Katie for terrific research help and to Heather and Valerie for beta-reading! (Any remaining mistakes are mine alone.)

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Thursday
2311 Local
Forensic ward
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Bethesda, Maryland

 

"If you'd let me work, I could finish up and get back to my hotel room, and then we'd have all night to finish this conversation."

Lieutenant Commander Teresa Coulter had wanted to sound annoyed but she couldn't fight her smile. Trying to keep her telephone squeezed between her left ear and shoulder, she clumsily wiped her forehead with her right forearm, the pipette still in her left hand.

"Yes, I know I've already spent more than three hours doing this but..."

She carefully put the pipette down, then bent forward to take a closer look at centrifuge in front of her. She stopped it once again and took out the test tube in question to have a look at the liquid inside. Deciding it was ready to be analyzed, she fed the sample to the computer on the neighboring table.

"Nuh uh..." Her grin was radiant and mischief was sparkling in her eyes. "This is strictly 'need to know'. You don't need to know whom I'm spending this particular moment with."

Chuckling at her conversation partner's answer, she walked over to the washing basin, pulled off her latex gloves and threw them in the waste basket. At least the dreadful stench of last night was finally gone; today was only analysis. The nauseating task of doing an autopsy on a completely liquefied corpse that had only bones and hair left in solid form had kept her busy all afternoon the day before - and awake all night, taking shower after shower and bath after bath to get rid of the odor.

"Yeah, I know... listen, I'd love to tell you what I'm doing here but honestly, I have no idea. I'm doing what I normally do, cutting up dead people. But I'm not even allowed to tell you where I am. Homeland security maybe, don't know... Or they just don't want the world to know that we found Amelia Earhart... oh, my God, did I just say that? Now they'll have to shoot you."

Still grinning, Teresa thoroughly cleaned her hands. Then she took the phone into her right hand and crossed the room to where further technical items were peacefully humming.

"No, I don't think it'll take much longer now. I think I found whatever there was to be found and I'll just wrap up a few analyses... yeah, that kind of thing... I'll be back tomorrow, you want me to call you tonight?... Okay, talk to you later then... oooohh, reeeally?" Leaning against the console, she let her voice drop an octave, feeling herself blush. "Well, I can't wait... I love you, too. Bye!"

Content, she snapped the phone shut and brushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear as she sat down in front of another computer. A glance at her watch told her that the results of the main test should be available by now. The automatic DNA analyzer had been running for more than six hours now, ever since the DNA microsatellite markers of the previous sample had been amplified. Teresa had filled the endless hours of waiting for the results writing her report of yesterday's autopsy and preparing a DNA double check of the victim's identity.

It would take all night for the new samples to be ready to be analyzed, but they weren't too important anyway. The X-ray of the skull had provided dental details that clearly identified the corpse as Lieutenant Commander Clarice Brown. The only thing that was really worth waiting for tonight was the ongoing screening. Its result might turn out to be the one crucial exhibit in court, possibly revealing the identity of who killed her. Thanking the Navy for supplying Bethesda with fast computers, Teresa worked her way through the files and procedures until the unmistakable dots of a DNA analysis appeared on her screen.

"Okay," she murmured, looking forward to calling it a night very soon, "Commander Brown, if your killer was among those of your military colleagues who participated in the saliva testing after you disappeared, we should know it..." she hit the 'Enter' key, "Now. If not, there are still the federal prison databases left. But not today, please..."

Not really expecting anything extraordinary to happen, Teresa leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and let her thoughts trail off to what would happen when she got back to the private phone line in her hotel room. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She hadn't felt so good in a long time.

She jumped when, with a shrill beep, her computer told her that her first try might have been a lucky shot. Opening her eyes, she felt her heart rate accelerate considerably: a red icon was blinking on the black screen.

'1 match found'

Involuntarily holding her breath, Teresa clicked on the icon - and froze.

"No, this is impossible..." she whispered, aghast, as she immediately searched the database a second time.

'1 match found'

Adrenaline shot up high in her blood as she frantically started to run a search of all other databases available.

'No match'

'No match'

'No match'

Against her better judgment, she searched the military database yet another time.

'1 match found'

'No, no, no, I don't believe this. I don't believe this. This can't be true. I refuse to believe this. This has got to be one major screw-up... but I can still fix this... this is classified, no one knows what I've been doing up here, no one...'

Beads of perspiration on her forehead and tears in her eyes, Teresa hit the 'Delete' button. Once, twice, three times, wracking her brain as to where there could be any further backup files hidden in the system. Her heart was racing as if she'd just finished a marathon run and she felt herself at the verge of hyperventilating with the panic that kept rising inside her.

She jumped to her feet, yanked open the analysis unit and with shaking hands extracted the fateful sample. Quickly she let a few drops of DNAse fall into the liquid. Then she wrapped the tube into several thick layers of Kleenex and then firmly stepped on it until she heard the noise of thin glass cracking.

Her vision blurred; she stumbled to the bathroom, threw the Kleenex bundle into the nearest toilet and flushed it several times, until it had finally disappeared for good.

Only then did her nausea get the better of her. Teresa grabbed the edge of the toilet for a hold and heaved until she threw up nothing but bile. Trembling with terror and exhaustion, she then slumped down next to the toilet, letting her tears flow.

'This can't be true. It isn't, it isn't! It's impossible. There's got to be another explanation! I must have missed something... missed something... God, help me...'

*********************************************
OPENING CREDITS Episode 4 "Right to Silence"
*********************************************

Friday
1848 Local
Harm's apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.

 

Soft jazz floated through the darkened room. A couple of candles sat on the table and the last sunrays filtered through the half-closed blinds. The candle flames reflected in the clear wineglasses that waited to be filled.

Harm placed the water carafe in the middle of his dish arrangements, took a few steps back and critically surveyed his artwork. 'Not bad,' he thought, 'This should cheer her up a little.'

Mac had shown signs of increasing frustration all day. He didn't know what exactly she and Bud were working on, but when she had returned from her witness interview this morning, Mac had made a beeline for the break room, brewing some of the venom she called coffee. Then she had immediately vanished into her office, murmuring something indistinct about having no clue how she was supposed to solve this. Bud's features had mirrored Mac's, the deep vertical furrow on his forehead making him look as grim as Harm had ever seen him.

Harm had tried several times to engage Mac in a light conversation, sensing there was something that she might want to get off her chest, but there hadn't really been an occasion to talk to her in private for more than five minutes at the office today. So once he'd realized that he could wrap up his cases fairly early, he had decided to do something that might raise her spirits - and do them both good after all the strain of the past weeks.

"Enter!" she had called in a harsh voice when he had knocked on her office door.

"Uh... Mac, I was wondering if we could talk about the Ferris case tonight."

"Can't that wait until next week?"

"I guess it could but actually, I'd like to get a little ahead of the schedule on that one. Listen, why don't you come over for dinner? Say, 1900?"

She had consented, seeming positively surprised at his offer. That was all Harm wanted. Nice, easy meetings over dinner had always been an essential part of their friendship. 'What's the best way to get a lady jarhead's attention? Feed her some nice fillet and offer her a sounding board whenever she needs one.' That was exactly what he was doing.

She was punctual, as always. When he opened the door, Mac gave him the first real smile of the day, though it was just a little strained.

"Come in," he said with an inviting gesture. "I hope you're hungry."

Mac closed her eyes for a moment and sniffed. Then she threw him a wide-eyed look. "If I wasn't sure it was impossible, I'd have bet that there's some decidedly non-vegetarian food cooking somewhere."

Harm felt his expression turn a little sheepish. "You can trust your nose. I'm just trying to be a good host. Is Beef Stroganoff okay?"

Her smile relaxed. "Perfect, just what I needed after a day like this," she sighed, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. "But what are you going to eat?"

"I prepared lots of potatoes and vegetables, so I'll just leave out the meat."

Mac mockingly rolled her eyes. "You really have no idea what you're missing."

"Maybe next time I can make myself try, okay?" Not giving her the time to tell him that she'd hold him to it, he closed the door and hurried to save the sauce from burning.

Ten minutes later, they were eating in companionable silence. Mac was the first to finish and spoke up as she folded her napkin.

"So, what do we do about the Ferris case?"

Harm cast a doubtful glance at his still full plate, then met her eyes. "Could we shelve that until after dinner? Right now I feel I can't concentrate on the facts."

"All right," she conceded with a smile. "You know, we could still do it tomorrow."

Shaking his head, Harm quickly swallowed the carrot he had been chewing. "No, we can't, I'm sorry. I'm busy."

"Oh, sounds important," Mac remarked with one eyebrow up high. "What will you be doing?"

"During the day I have to do a little maintenance work on 'Sarah' and then I've been invited to dinner."

Mac's second eyebrow joined the first right beneath her hairline. "Have you?" she asked, trying to sound casual. "May I ask by whom?"

"Teresa Coulter."

Trying to ignore the little sting she felt, Mac plastered a smile to her face. "Oh, that's nice. Tell her hello from me. Any particular reason? And didn't you tell me she had moved to Philadelphia after her work in Afghanistan was finished? Are you going up there?"

"No, she'll be in town. But you're right, she's now working for the Philadelphia police but she's still recalled to active duty from time to time. Tomorrow she'll be in D.C. because her fiancé lives here. Teresa called a few days ago and told me she wanted me to get to know him."

"She's getting married again?"

"Seems so," Harm answered. "And you know what, Mac? From what I could hear on the phone, I think this time she'll get it right. She sounded so positive, so... in love. No trace of her usual sarcasm. Whoever this guy is, he really seems to make her happy."

Mac was genuinely pleased. After what Teresa had been through with her abusive father, her mother's suicide and her wrecked first marriage, the hardworking doctor really deserved a little true happiness. Ever since she had talked Teresa into giving her father a second chance, after he had been acquitted on having killed his wife, Mac had seen Teresa in a different light. They had so much in common. Maybe Teresa would finally have the kind of life that she herself had always been longing for. "Let's hope so," she answered thoughtfully, studying the glass in her hands. "I'm not sure how many more failed attempts at family life she might be able to take."

Sensing that for Mac, the situation must be hitting too close to home, Harm tried to put as much reassurance in his voice as was possible. "I don't know too much about him yet, only that he's in the Navy, too, but you should have heard her, Mac. She's glowing. She met him about a year ago, just after her return from Afghanistan, and she told me that the moment they first talked, she felt like she was coming home, the exact opposite of when she first met Rory Coulter. What more does it need?"

With a small wistful smile, Mac raised her glass in his direction. "Well then... here's to Terry and her happiness... and to you, for supplying the first real good news of the day. Thank you."

Harm mimicked her gesture, a content grin spreading over his features. "You're welcome. To Terry, most of all," he said when their glasses met with a soft 'cling'.

When he had cleared the table, they moved over to the couch, mugs of steaming coffee in their hands. Harm decided that by now, Mac was relaxed enough to maybe talk about what was bothering her. "Why so glum today, Marine?" he ventured, trying to keep his voice light.

Mac's expression immediately clouded. "Oh, nothing really... just this damned case that Bud and I are investigating. Looking at the facts, I'm almost sure that the guy's guilty, but the evidence we've got isn't nearly enough to base any charges on. I can't even get him arrested. It's so frustrating to see someone get away with murder!"

Harm all but choked on his coffee. "Umm..." he made carefully, trying to calm his conflicting emotions, "Have you considered that maybe he didn't do it? You know, I recently heard somewhere that you can appear guilty and be innocent all the same."

"Oh God, I'm sorry..." Mac looked like she wanted to slap herself. "I promise you, Harm, I won't jump to conclusions. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. It's just that the hints that make him a suspect seem so logical to me. I was so hoping for the autopsy to supply any evidence but apparently that was a dead end."

"Care to tell me what the case is about? Maybe I can help."

Mac sighed. "I can't. I'm once again stuck with the need-to-know stuff."

"Webb has cursed you," Harm murmured with a frown.

"No, this time it's Naval Intelligence." She drew a deep breath and eventually let it out in a determined manner. "Well, you found out about my last top-secret mission. So I figure I might just rely on you to keep this confidential. I could in fact use some help here... but no names, okay?"

Glad that he wouldn't be left out again, Harm nodded. "Okay."

"The victim is a female lieutenant commander, a weapons expert who was sent to Earle Naval Weapons Station by the ONI, to shed some light onto several weapons disappearances, plus uncover a possible weapon trading ring up there. After about six months, she just disappeared without leaving any traces whatsoever. That was two years ago."

"But now you have a corpse?"

"Yeah, discovered in the woods near Harrisburg, just recently. Our suspect is a weapons expert as well. He's a commander now, working at the D.C. Navy Yard, but back then, he was stationed at Earle and was a close coworker of our victim's. He admitted that they'd had an affair, but he claims he didn't kill her."

Taking a thoughtful sip of his coffee, Harm tried to get some order into the snippets of information that Mac had just supplied. "How did they figure out that they'd find her at Harrisburg of all places?"

"A few days ago, " Mac explained, "Earle received new computer hardware and before destroying the old stuff, they checked out the harddisks for any data that might still be needed. They found that our victim apparently used a remote terminal for her private email with the commander. They could reconstruct a letter to him in which she bade him to come out to a cabin near the spot where her body was found, the day before she disappeared."

Harm was intrigued. "Did he go?"

"Yes, he did. He told me that she wanted to end it, telling him that she was about to go away on a secret mission. She apparently begged him to stay in touch so they could take up where they left off once her mission was completed. Bud already double-checked her story - she was indeed ordered to go undercover somewhere. So obviously no one was worried when she didn't report for the following ten days. It was only after that that they started searching."

"Does he have an explanation for where he was the next day?"

Mac's frown grew. "Unfortunately, yes. He went back to work. There's still a very small time slot left when he could have killed her but as I said, nothing but the autopsy could have proven that."

Slightly puzzled, Harm put his mug down on the coffee table. "Is there anything that possibly links this guy to the weapon-trading scenario?"

"That's just the point, Harm. We thought there was, but he can't be the man." All previous frustration had returned to Mac's voice, making Harm wonder if his idea of playing sounding board hadn't been too smart after all. "We know of four dates, within the last five years, when weapons of different kinds were reported missing at Earle. From how the single cases look, everyone's inclined to think that all transactions were organized by the same people, the same single person even. The victim lists our commander as a possible suspect in her investigation. But a little later she clears his name: he was at Earle only when the first transaction took place. After that, he was TAD to Saudi Arabia for a full two years before he came back and, as it seems, got involved with the victim. So, if the commander didn't want to silence her because of the weapons trading, what the heck would be his motive to kill her?"

Harm cast Mac a sympathetic glance. "I see your point. You have a suspect whose correspondence with the victim leads you to a remote spot, to a body that's been missing for more than two years. However, your suspect doesn't seem to be involved in the crime that the victim knew too much about. So there's no real reason for him to kill her. And what's more, the autopsy leaves you without any clues. That's got to be frustrating indeed," he murmured.

"You bet," Mac agreed in a low, defeated voice.

"Could he be the type to kill her because she left him?" Harm carefully asked, knowing that the thought must already have occurred to her.

Absolute certainty shone in her eyes. "No way. Harm, this guy has to be one of the most caring, grieved, reasonable... whatever... you know, this was what left me so frustrated from the beginning. He could easily be the man of every woman's dreams."

Raising his eyebrows and wondering why her answer was bothering him so much, Harm just waited for Mac to elaborate.

Uneasy, Mac turned her attention to the almost empty coffee-mug in her hands. "The commander is a tall, good-looking man, blond with brown eyes, interesting features. From the way he was grieved to hear that we had found the body, I could see that he's not afraid of showing his emotions, and his grief was real. I'd swear to that. Besides, he's got an easy, charming way of talking to you but at the same time he doesn't give an impression of being superficial. He... well, he really seems to listen to what you say, and he makes you feel like he takes you seriously."

Harm chuckled. "He'd better take a Marine colonel seriously, I'd say..."

"No, that's not it," Mac contradicted. "I mean, he seems to take you seriously as a woman who's a hundred percent equal to a man. He kind of makes you feel strong and worthy."

"You make it sound as if that were the great exception," Harm remarked, not sure if he wanted to hear her answer.

Smiling a little uneasily, Mac met his glance. "You know how women are treated in the military. People tend to underestimate us and they show it by leaving us out of the important things or by trying to protect us all the time."

Could that statement be directed at him? Harm wondered, feeling a sting. Maybe he'd better ignore this line of argument. "Uh... okay, I get the picture. So you say he isn't the kind of man who could just freak out when a woman he loves tells him it's over?"

Mac shook her head. "No."

"Well, I hate to admit it, but I guess I'm stuck on that one, too, Mac." Harm shrugged in defeat, his face apologetic.

"I didn't really expect you to come up with a magical solution anyway," Mac answered, cocking her head.

The omnipresent frustration in her voice saddened him. "So, is there anything that I can do to make you feel better?"

She smiled. "More fresh coffee?" she suggested, holding out her mug in his direction.

"Just a second," he replied, getting up and going over to the kitchen counter. At least she was inclined to let him help. Somehow, after all the craziness of the last few weeks, this little bit of normalcy felt incredibly good.

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*****************************************************

Saturday
1002 local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA

 

"Bud? You there?"

The bullpen lay in dead silence as Mac crossed it in the direction of Bud's office. The only sounds she heard were the humming of the air-conditioner and the clicking of her heels on the floor. Bud's door stood slightly ajar. Not wanting to startle him if he was in, Mac cleared her throat.

"Ahem. Lieutenant Roberts?"

"Come in, ma'am."

Mac pushed the door open and with a smile crossed the distance to the desk. "At ease, Bud. Good morning."

Bud motioned for Mac to sit down. "Good morning, ma'am. I'm really sorry for this, but I... well..." He seemed lost and embarrassed.

"You couldn't sleep and had an idea that you felt couldn't wait?" Mac suggested, winking.

"Something of the kind, ma'am," Bud admitted, blushing a little.

Mac's smile vanished. "Is Harriet okay, Bud?"

"Yes, ma'am, that's not it. I mean, well, it kind of was... it's just... uh..."

"Just tell me - if you feel you can." Mac's voice was the same that she would use with a child.

Bud shuffled a few papers on his desk. "I don't want to appear insensitive, ma'am."

"You won't, trust me."

"Okay," Bud breathed, relieved. "Ma'am, you can imagine I was more than a little frustrated when I got home last night."

"Don't I know it. What happened?"

"Apparently Harriet had major trouble with her legs again and neither of us was in the mood to cheer the other up. Little AJ had been unwell all day because of a pre-school friend's birthday party the day before and... well, Harriet's calm didn't last long. We argued about something so insignificant that I've already forgotten what it was and I ended up sleeping on the couch."

Mac leaned forward, studying her friend's face. "Am I assuming correctly that you didn't exactly sleep much on the couch?"

"Guilty as charged, ma'am," Bud admitted with a sigh. "First I couldn't go to sleep and then I decided I might as well make use of the time. I had taken the Roland case file home with me and I started re-reading each and everything until I found that there were a few pages in it that I hadn't yet seen. I asked Jen to do a little more research on the commander's private life yesterday. She must have put the results into the file just before she left. You were already gone, ma'am."

A strange jolt of excitement ran through Mac's body. Could it be that Bud had found something that linked Roland to the murder? "Anything that points to the events at Earle?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

Bud shook his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Nothing as far as Earle is concerned."

"Then why did you call me and tell me I absolutely needed to come to the office on a Saturday morning?" Mac's gaze had turned a little sharper.

Bud tried not to flinch. "Again, ma'am, I'm sorry for that. I know this might be nothing but I came across something in Roland's past that made me look twice. He's a widower."

"Bud, we knew that," Mac said, feeling her patience wearing out.

"Yes, but what we didn't know is that his wife committed suicide eight years ago. She took an overdose of sleeping-pills. Jen somehow came by the coroner's report. Don't ask me how she did it, ma'am."

Taking the page that Bud was handing her, Mac curiously skimmed it. "Interesting..." she murmured to herself. Then she looked up, sobering. "But that doesn't mean anything. Maybe Mrs. Roland really did commit suicide. There's nothing in here that would lead me to draw any other conclusions."

"I know, ma'am." Bud nodded, earnestly holding her glance. "But the information obviously made Jen go on searching. And she discovered something else. Five years ago, when Roland was stationed at Pensacola, a close coworker of his died. Petty Officer Olivia Ramirez. She was his personal secretary."

"How did she die?"

"Car accident. Isn't this odd, ma'am? Two deaths in his close vicinity, both women, and now possibly a third? To me, this looks like..."

A little exasperated about Bud's vivid fantasy, Mac interrupted him in a soothing voice. "Bud, don't you think this is just an unlucky coincidence? I mean, other than the fact that the deaths really did occur, there's nothing in here that would incriminate the commander in any way."

Bud's expression turned doubtful. "I don't know, ma'am," he said uneasily.

Mac leaned back and for a moment studied the ceiling. Then she drew a decided breath. Maybe it wouldn't do any harm to do a little background check. She looked at Bud again. "Are you busy today?"

"Not really, ma'am. I was thinking about painting the windowsills in our bedroom but..."

"Does Roland's wife have any relatives?"

"Yes, a sister. She lives in Dallas."

"Why don't you call her and try to find out a few particulars?"

Bud's glance turned a little confused. "Uh, ma'am... how do I explain why the Navy is interested in her dead sister eight years after her suicide?"

Biting her lower lip, Mac examined her intertwined fingers, thinking. Eventually, she looked up with a smirk. "Tell her that her late sister's husband is nominated to receive the Navy Cross for... uh... whatever. You'll think of something. You're the one who's investigating his past."

"I'm not sure I can do that, ma'am." Bud seemed more than a little uneasy.

"I heard you were very convincing recently, playacting for Commander Rabb..." Mac observed.

Bud's glance turned a little guilty. "Oh, I think, ah, yes. Okay, I'll do it, ma'am."

Mac smiled. "Great. Now, by pure accident, does Olivia Ramirez happen to have family? And where?"

"Jen located her mother, ma'am. She lives somewhere in California I think."

"God bless the day I got Coates reassigned to headquarters," Mac said with a heartfelt sigh. "Then I guess I'll spend my day calling California. How about we meet up tonight for a little exchange of information?"

Bud's smile grew. "Sure. Ma'am, would you mind joining Harriet and me for dinner? We'd have to order in because Harriet doesn't feel well enough for rummaging around in the kitchen. But I'm sure she'd like to see you and we could easily talk about the case afterwards. Harriet goes to bed early. Does 1900 sound all right, ma'am?"

All of a sudden, Mac felt lighthearted. Not only did they have hopes of making a little headway with the Roland case, but she knew now that she wouldn't be home alone while Harm was enjoying dinner with his friends. "Sounds great, Bud. 1900 it is."

 

Saturday
1846 Local
Clarendon Blvd.
Rosslyn, VA

 

"Harm! It's so good to see you!"

The apartment door had barely opened when Harm found himself engulfed in a tight hug. Surprised, he returned Teresa's hearty squeeze and then drew back, wary. "Good to see you, too, Terry." He smiled. "You look great."

Teresa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, averting her glance with an almost embarrassed smile. "Thank you. Come on in."

Harm stepped past her and found himself face to face with a tall man about his own age who held out his hand. "Commander Rabb? Nice to meet you. Terry's told me a lot about you. Commander Marcus Roland," he introduced himself.

Shaking Roland's hand, Harm gave him a quick once-over. Average build, sportive, blond, agreeable features. Teresa could surely have chosen worse, he thought. "Nice to meet you, too, Commander Roland."

Roland's smile broadened. "My fiancée's friends are also my friends. Please, call me Marcus."

"Harm. Congratulations on your engagement."

Roland laid his arm around Teresa's shoulders and pulled her to his side, casting her a loving glance. "Thanks, Harm. She's a treasure, isn't she?"

"That she is." Harm agreed, enjoying how Teresa returned her fiancé's glance - until he thought he noted a fleeting uneasiness in her eyes. Just a little concerned, he turned to his friend. "Everything all right, Terry?"

She gave him a lopsided grin. "Yes. I'm just a little tired. I had one hell of a week. Doing a little work for the military again, you know."

"Yeah, you mentioned that on the phone. What have you been working on?"

"Sorry. Need to know."

'I seem to hear that a lot recently,' Harm thought, frowning. "You could have told me you're too worn out to have guests," he said.

Teresa laughed it off, albeit a little too hastily for Harm's liking. "Nah. No big deal. I'm glad you're here. Let's eat." Before he could react, she turned on her heel and headed off to the kitchen.

Roland guided Harm to the dining table. "I'm a little worried about her," he admitted in a low voice. "She's been like that ever since she came back from her assignment yesterday."

Noting the other man's concern, Harm tried to reassure him. "She'll be okay, trust me. Teresa's one of the toughest women I've ever met. I'm sure you know that she's not easily shaken."

Roland's brow furrowed. "That's exactly the reason why I'm worried. Whatever she's been doing shook her up quite a bit." He met Harm's glance, an expression of sincere caring and worry in his eyes. "Last night she had nightmares," he said, lower still.

Harm's eyebrows went up. "And she really didn't tell you a thing?"

"You've known her longer than I have, Harm. With all she's been through, she's grown so accustomed to working everything out herself that she doesn't even think of opening up. And I don't want to push her to anything."

"Yeah, you're right," Harm answered. "Even if you mean well: pressure will drive Teresa away. I've been there, when her mother's death was reinvestigated. Just give her a little time."

"You seem to know her pretty well indeed," Roland observed, his voice guarded.

Harm's head jerked up. "Oh, no, not that way," he hurriedly replied, "Terry and I have always been good friends, but never more than that."

Roland was spared an answer as Teresa came back in, carrying a large bowl of pasta. "Linguine ai carciofi," she said with a smile in Harm's direction, "Artichoke sauce, guaranteed a hundred percent vegetarian."

"Very much appreciated," Harm grinned back. "So, tell me: how long have you been engaged?"

"About a month now," Teresa replied, looking up from her plate. "What about you? How's the colonel?" she asked with a sly wink.

"Need to know, Commander," Harm shot back smugly. Seeing Teresa's upraised eyebrow, he decided to elaborate. "She's fine, thank you. She told me to say hello, by the way."

"That's not what I wanted to know," Teresa remarked dryly.

Harm sighed. "We're good friends," he answered, "Just as always. I'd rather hear how you two met."

Roland seemed to be somewhat relieved to be part of the conversation again. "Teresa was called to the Navy Yard ten months ago to help NCIS with an autopsy. The case was similar to that of a Navy psychologist that Terry..."

"The scenario was very similar to that of Commander Parker's death," Teresa cut in, a compassionate glance crossing her features that didn't go unnoticed by Roland.

"She was a very close friend of mine," Harm explained, trying to avoid any further misunderstandings.

"You seem to have a lot of close friends, Harm," Roland stated. Harm thought it best not to comment.

Teresa hurried to go on with the story. "Anyway, I was doing this autopsy and I met Marcus on the base. We had lunch together several times, then he asked me out, and when I went home to Philadelphia we talked a lot on the phone. You know how things go, Harm."

'Theoretically, yes,' he silently acknowledged.

**************

Teresa had outdone herself with dinner. The pasta was followed by a mixed salad, then by a second main course. Then she served a large platter of assorted cheese. Harm repeatedly complimented Roland on how lucky he was in his choice of wife.

As the meal proceeded, the conversation grew less and less formal. Roland seemed to have overcome his initial mistrust and turned out to be an agreeable man to spend an evening with. He was educated and informed, had a good sense of humor and most of all, he seemed to worship Teresa. Harm was glad that the strong affection that he had perceived in Teresa's phone call was obviously mutual. This man was good for her.

Teresa herself was in bright spirits. Somewhere into the meal, her fatigue had apparently worn off and she had come back to her usual self. That was... this wasn't really her usual self, Harm corrected himself. There were no traces left of the disillusioned sarcasm that he used to encounter all too often on Teresa's face. The change was amazing.

So Harm found it all the more surprising that despite the seemingly easy atmosphere, he gradually became aware of a slight underlying tension that he hadn't noticed when she had first called him. Every now and then he caught Teresa averting her glance from her fiancé's, playing with her napkin or twirling a strand of hair. Yet, she seemed to be keen on appearing the happiest person in the world. Harm could tell that Roland had noticed, too, his smile becoming a little strained. Harm was grieved to see it but it couldn't be denied: something wasn't right in the picture. But he had no clue what it was.

Eventually, Teresa stood up. "I'll go get the dessert," she announced and left the two men alone.

Not wanting to go into dangerous personal issues again, Harm opted for a question that seemed safe to him. "So, Marcus, where have you been stationed so far?"

"I transferred to D.C. from Earle about a year and a half ago. I'm a ballistics expert you know."

Somewhere in Harm's subconscious, a bell began to chime. 'Earle... Navy Yard... commander... charming manners... blond... the man of every woman's dreams...' A rather disconcerting picture began to rise in front of his mind's eye. 'Play it cool, Rabb,' he admonished himself. "Interesting," he only remarked with a smile. "Any tours on a ship or somewhere abroad?"

"During my time at Earle, I was TAD to Saudi Arabia for two years, replacing a friend of mine who had to go home because of urgent family business," Roland replied. "I have to say, I was glad when I came back home. Interesting as it was, I couldn't stand to be away from the States for such a long time. Teresa tells me you were a pilot, Harm. How did you manage?"

Harm shrugged, still smiling although his pulse had accelerated considerably hearing Roland confirm his suspicion. He tried to keep his voice neutral. "I was doing what I loved best, but that was long ago. I'm sure she also told you that now I'm a JAG lawyer."

"Yes, she did. That's how you met, wasn't it? By the way, I came to know a charming colleague of yours yesterday. Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie. She needed a little information on a former colleague of mine who was recently found dead. A really sad story. She was such a wonderful person. I wonder who could possibly do such a thing to her..."

Sincere sadness rung in Roland's voice and his expression had turned pained. 'Mac is right,' Harm resolved, 'He really cared for the victim. If he were involved in the crime he'd never talk to me that frankly about his conversation with Mac. I'm sure there is another explanation for what happened.'

"Oh, but Harm," Roland broke into his musings, "Please, don't tell Terry about that. She's so stressed already, I don't want her to know that I'm a witness in a homicide investigation. It would only upset her more."

"She doesn't know?" Harm was astonished. Roland seemed so open and sincere a person.

"No. As I said, I don't want to upset her. I was thinking about telling her when she got back from her last assignment but she seemed so... I don't know... as if she were holding back something, too. I'll tell her once this is all over."

Hearing his words, Harm was again pleased to see that Roland really seemed to care about how Teresa was feeling. However, on second thought, he remembered to have seen a slight flicker of emotion in the commander's eyes.

'... as if she were holding back something, too...' Harm found he was unable to fight the impression that there were a few unresolved issues between Teresa and her fiancé. 'Terry, you'd better find a way to tell him whatever it is that's bothering you,' he thought.

"Marcus, could you come here for a moment, please?" Terry's voice could be heard from the kitchen. She sounded slightly afraid.

"On my way, honey." Roland immediately got up and joined her.

Harm heard a few words and a clanking sound as if something had hit the window. "Everything all right?" he asked, concerned, at the same time wondering why he was suspecting something had happened. 'Don't start seeing ghosts,' he ordered himself.

A moment later, Terry entered the living-room and placed the dessert bowl on the table. "Everything's fine," she answered with a smile. "There was a bee in the kitchen and I needed Marcus to take care of it. I'm way too allergic to do it myself, you know. Once I get stung, my head swells to the size of a pumpkin and my face flushes red like a tomato. Not quite the sight I'd have wanted you to see tonight."

"Thank you," he answered wryly, relieved. "I'm not keen on racing to the hospital, either."

"You're welcome. Let's have dessert, shall we?"

**************

It was well after midnight when Harm finally declared that he absolutely had to leave. As the couple walked him to the door, Harm carefully observed them. They were trying to appear as happy as could be, flirting, holding hands... but he wasn't sure whom they wanted to convince, him, each other or themselves. He knew he probably shouldn't but he felt he needed to do something. All he wanted was for Teresa to be happy.

He exchanged a hearty handshake with Roland and then drew Teresa into a friendly embrace. "I'm really happy for the both of you," he said, and then carefully added, "And should any of you ever feel he or she needs a neutral ear, just give me a call. That's what friends are for."

He had made it sound as if he were really addressing both, but when he broke the embrace, Harm for the fraction of a second locked his gaze with Teresa's, begging her to come to him.

"We will, thank you, Harm," Roland answered, his tone open and friendly. Apparently he thought the remark had been directed at him because of their earlier conversation.

They exchanged their goodbyes and Harm slowly walked back to his car, reminiscing what he had learned. 'I should tell her,' he mused, 'She should know. On the other hand, this isn't my call. Roland should inform her himself. What is it that he's afraid of? It's clear that he doesn't like that Terry has secrets from him. He should really start by sharing his own secrets with the woman he loves. I wish I knew what to do...'

Slamming the door of his SUV shut, Harm sighed. First thing in the morning, he'd call Mac and tell her what a surprising turn her case had taken. Maybe she would have a few answers.

**********COMMERCIAL***BREAK********************

Hai voglia di pasta fatta in casa? Dove c'è BARILLA, c'è casa!

[You in for homemade pasta? Where there's BARILLA, there's home!]

***(Here's to my Italian family!)***

*****************************************************

Saturday
1900 Local
Roberts Residence

 

Mac tried not to look shocked when Harriet opened the door. The young woman was pale and the strain of her advanced pregnancy showed clearly on her face. Yet, Harriet greeted her cheerfully.

"Good to see you, ma'am."

"You, too, Harriet. How are you today?"

Harriet made a slight face but her smile never faded. "A lot better than last night, ma'am. However, I think I won't last long after dinner. So I'll just leave you and Bud alone to talk about your case. We've ordered Mexican. Is that all right?"

"Just fine, Harriet. Thank you. Oh, how's AJ?"

"He's a lot better, too, ma'am, but pretty exhausted from throwing up so much. He's already asleep and I hope he stays that way all night."

"Crossing my fingers for you," Mac smiled as she went past her in the direction of the dining-table.

*****************

Having bid goodnight to Harriet, Bud and Mac took out their respective notes. "Okay, Bud, let's hear what you could dig up. Uh, do you mind?" Mac indicated her feet and the couch.

Bud smiled. "Make yourself comfortable, ma'am."

With a content sigh, Mac tucked her feet underneath herself and took a sip from her coffee. "I'm ready."

"I'm not sure if what I learned is important, but it sheds a little light on his character, for what it's worth," Bud stated with a good-natured shrug. "I spent a whole 50 minutes on the phone with Mrs. Roland's sister, ma'am! God, that woman is a gossip. But it made my task a lot easier. When I said the words 'Navy Cross' and 'background check', it was like a valve had opened. All I had to do was guide the flow of information."

"Convenient indeed," Mac remarked with a grin.

"Isn't it?" Bud chimed in. "Anyway, first of all: the police clearly ruled Nicole Roland's death a suicide, without a doubt. Her sister, she's called Kate Morrow, by the way, well, her sister told me that Nicole did regularly take sleeping-pills that were prescribed by her doctor. She was being treated for mental problems but Miss Morrow said that her suicide was a complete surprise to all. No one would have thought Nicole's problems were so grave.

"Miss Morrow said that Commander Roland was overwhelmed with grief when Nicole died. She's convinced that they loved each other very much. Roland seems to have had a sense of guilt, though, because he had to do a lot of traveling and he knew that Nicole hated being lonely. Nicole apparently used to confide in her sister and Miss Morrow knows that they had problems even though their marriage seemed so ideal. Nicole told her sister that she was seeing her therapist not only because of her mental problems, but also to try and save their marriage. That's why she had to go to a lot more appointments than her disease would have required. Actually, Nicole seems to have been very positive that she was making progress and that she'd be able to heal the rift. But she never told her husband about it."

Swallowing another mouthful of coffee, Mac frowned. "That's strange. If they were so in love, they could have undergone couples therapy. Why would she be afraid to tell her husband? She had to be aware that her husband would eventually notice that she was hiding something from him. To me, this doesn't seem the smartest move if you want to save a troubled marriage."

"I was wondering the same thing, ma'am," Bud replied, "But Miss Morrow explained that this was the one point where the otherwise so perfect Marcus Roland displayed a weakness. Having problems in marriage was the one thing he would never have admitted to. Roland was a divorce kid, ma'am. And the way his parents split up when he was seven years old, must have been incredibly ugly, at least from what Miss Morrow knows about it. From what she told me, Roland's mother constantly betrayed her husband and even forced the boy to help her cover up her affairs by constantly making him tell new lies to his father and the rest of the family."

"Man, that child must have been traumatized!" Mac was genuinely enraged.

"Tell me about it, ma'am," Bud agreed sadly. "So it's really only natural that all Roland would ever long for was a truly devoted, honest, loving wife. According to Kate Morrow, Roland was convinced that he'd found her in her sister. She's sure that he'd never ever have consented to couples therapy because to him, that would have meant failure. Ma'am, I'm inclined to believe the police's version. Nicole Roland killed herself. Period."

Lost in thought, Mac stared into her cup. "That doesn't make sense, Bud. Why would she kill herself at a time when she was so confident that she was making headway towards saving her happiness?"

"Maybe it was becoming too difficult to hide her secret extra counseling from him and she was panicking because she feared that if he ever found out, everything would just blow up?"

All of a sudden, Mac felt herself starting to shake. 'Hide her secret...' All pieces began to fall into place, and it was a horrible picture she was seeing.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" Bud asked, worry tingeing his voice.

"Yes, I am," Mac replied slowly, her voice hoarse. "Listen, Bud, I think there might be something bigger behind the whole scheme after all. You'll see what I mean once you know what I found out. Having secrets is the key to the riddle."

"I fear I don't follow you, ma'am," Bud said, confused.

"You will. I reached Mrs. Ramirez in Santa Monica and I told her that I was a high school friend of her daughter's. Hearing that, she readily told me everything I wanted to know.

"Just like with Nicole Roland, the police didn't find anything in the circumstances of Olivia's death that would hint at a crime. Petty Officer Ramirez died in a car accident, as you said. The road was lined with trees. She ran into a tree and the skid marks on the narrow road pointed to the following scenario: some lunatic driver did a very risky maneuver, overtaking another car that was already too close to Olivia who came driving in the opposite direction. She was forced to evade the oncoming traffic, lost control of her car and skidded off the road, right into the tree.

"Unfortunately, she was doing some decorating at home and had her car loaded with flammable varnish for her wooden floor. So the car immediately caught fire and the inferno left nothing but a totally burned corpse that was barely identifiable and a car wreck that was useless even to crime scene investigators. The road was deserted, so there weren't even any witnesses who could have testified to what exactly caused the crash. Case closed."

"Uh, ma'am," Bud was feeling decidedly uncomfortable, "I'm sorry but I still don't quite see your point."

"I'm getting there, Bud," Mac patiently replied. "Do you want to know why Olivia Ramirez was redecorating? Make sure you hold on tight to your cup: she and Roland were about to move in together."

"They had an affair?" Bud's eyes were the size of Las Vegas 100-$ chips. "But they were in the same chain of command! How could they even think of moving in together?"

"My thoughts exactly, Bud," Mac sarcastically stated. "Apparently, the petty officer was about to transfer from Pensacola to Jacksonville. That would have been quite a distance, for sure, but they would have been within the same state and could have made it work somehow. Mrs. Ramirez told me that she was the only one who knew about their involvement, and it seems that Roland had completely conquered her heart. She kept repeating how wonderful a man he was, how well-behaved and warmhearted, how she would have loved to see her daughter married to him, and she was pretty certain that Roland would have proposed to Olivia before long. According to the mother, they were so in love and Roland was beside himself with grief when he heard of the accident. Ring a bell?"

Bud nodded slowly. "Seems eerily familiar but... if it wasn't an accident, where's the motive?"

"Secrets," Mac stated flatly. "Mrs. Ramirez knew about a surprise that Olivia was planning on making Roland. Olivia had somehow gotten wind of a secretary's post that would shortly fall vacant at Whiting Field NAS. She had a few contacts at Whiting and tried to pull every string possible to be assigned there. It would have been a lot closer to Pensacola. Olivia wanted Roland to find out about it only when all would be settled, and she had a devoted co-conspirator in her mother. Quite a few times, Mrs. Ramirez made up excuses for her daughter's absence when Olivia had some organizing to do.

"Now imagine a man like Roland whose one trigger is a woman he loves hiding a secret from him because he immediately sees his mother in her. He's the only one, too, who could have known about the flammable material in Olivia's car and where she'd be going."

"Oh God..." Bud whispered.

"Now think about Lieutenant Commander Brown. She tells Roland that she's still interested in him, but has to go away to do something that she can't tell him about. Although he should have known that this could have been the truth, Roland just loses it because Commander Brown's story pushed the right buttons with him. Do you see the pattern, Bud?

"Commander Rabb told me about this investigation that he did with Manetti. The serial killer in Naples. And he explained how Manetti created a profile. Now, let's try this with Roland: the background - he's a traumatized divorce kid. The victims - all women he was involved with and apparently even loved very much. The motive - he suspected them of betraying him, which, in his understanding, is the worst thing a woman could possibly do to a man. And the incentive - he finds out that the woman he loves is hiding a secret from him. Bud, we have no way to prove it yet, but that guy might turn out to be a serial killer!"

 

Sunday
0942 Local
Harm's apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.

 

Harm was dead tired. The fact that Teresa was engaged to the very man Mac believed to have murdered his former girlfriend hadn't let him sleep. On the one hand, having known Roland himself, Harm was sure that Mac had to be wrong. On the other hand, there was this persistent doubt ringing in his mind. 'What if he really did...?'

However, there was nothing that he could do about the situation as long as he hadn't talked it through with Mac. Harm had tried five times to reach her in the course of the last two hours - way too early on a Sunday anyway - but Mac had apparently gone out jogging.

Stepping out of the shower, Harm barely took the time to dry himself. He quickly donned a t-shirt and some sweatpants and once again rushed to get his cordless phone.

'Come on Mac, you've got to get home sometime...'

He had just listened to her answering machine coming alive yet again, when his doorbell made him end the connection. Wondering who on earth would call on him this early on a Sunday - if not Mac, but somehow, Harm didn't trust his luck - he went to open the door to...

...a thoroughly embarrassed Teresa Coulter who was playing with her long braid, looking up at him. "Hey," she said in a low, confused voice.

"Hey Terry, come in." Harm eyed her warily. She seemed uneasy. "What's up? Everything all right?"

Avoiding his glance, Teresa stepped past him and hugged herself tightly as he closed the door. "Thanks," she said shyly. "I hope I didn't disturb you."

Harm laid his hand on the small of her back and led her to the couch. "Make yourself at home," he smiled. "I haven't had my morning coffee yet. You care for some?"

Teresa found it hard to resist his smile. "Sure, that'd be great," she answered, sitting down.

"So, what brings you by?" Harm asked from behind the kitchen counter, keeping his voice light.

For a few seconds, he thought she wouldn't answer at all, but then he heard her take a deep breath. "I need your help, Harm."

He could tell she had tried to make her voice sound steadier than it was. Deciding that the coffeemaker wouldn't need his presence anymore, he walked over to Teresa and sat down beside her. "You need my help?"

His voice rang with concern and caring, and, in combination with the gentle glance from his stunning blue eyes, it had a strong effect on her. Teresa felt her resolve crumble. "I didn't know who else to turn to," she whispered, fighting her tears.

"Hey..." Seeing that his friend was trembling, Harm, with his left hand, took hers and with his right hand cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I told you to come to me. What do you need me for?"

"I need a lawyer."

Abruptly, his thumb stilled its movements, a look of utmost astonishment crossing his face. Of all possible answers that he could think of, this wasn't the one he'd expected. "You... ah... you need my legal assistance?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yeah..."

The disturbance in Teresa's look deepened and she swallowed. Suddenly Harm felt his adrenaline rise. She hadn't had to defend herself against Roland, had she? Yet, looking her over, he could see no traces of a fight. "What happened?" he asked.

"Harm, it's... it's about Marcus," Teresa finally admitted, her voice fearful. "I know of something that might get him into serious trouble if anyone finds out, but I know it's got to be a mistake or something... you've got to help me prove that he's innocent. Please!"

Harm's eyes widened in surprise. Maybe Roland was smarter than he'd thought - he had obviously understood that she needed to know. "He told you about the investigation?"

From the confusion and horror that at once showed on her features, Harm immediately saw that they were crossing wires. "Investigation?" Teresa sounded alarmed. "How would he know what I was doing?"

Now it was Harm's turn to be confused. "You? What do you have to do with this, Terry? No, this is about JAG. After all, it was Mac who questioned him..." He didn't get to finish his sentence as Teresa sprung to her feet, enraged.

"A JAG investigation? You knew all the time and didn't say a thing? Instead you made up all this talking-to-friends crap when all you wanted was to get your hands on some information! You... you..."

Harm quickly got up and laid his hands on her shoulders, firmly holding on to her. "Slow down, Terry," he tried to calm her, ignoring her angry stare, "I don't know what you're talking about. I came because you invited me and your fiancé begged me himself not to tell you that he's a..." Harm hesitated. Should he say 'suspect'? No. No need for superfluous emotions. "That he's a possible witness in a murder case. He didn't want to upset you. Why would you suspect that this had anything to do with what you were..." He stopped in shock.

Teresa locked her eyes with his, stopping to struggle against his grip. Understanding set in in both minds at the same moment.

"You did the autopsy," Harm whispered, aghast.

"Oh God, Harm!" When her frantic tears started to fall, Teresa found herself wrapped in a tight, soothing embrace and buried her face on his chest, sobbing.

"Shhhh, it's going to be all right," Harm softly tried to calm her, stroking her head and back. "I promise I'll talk to Mac and we'll find out what happened. Don't worry, I won't let you down, hon, I'll get him out of this mess, okay?"

Strangely, his last words were followed by a new outbreak of despair. "No, Harm, you won't," she sobbed, still not looking up. "Oh God... why, why are you doing this to me? Why?"

Harm was at a loss. Sensing that he might be about to discover what must have troubled her during the last days, he gently made her sit again and then sat down next to her, pulling her close. "Terry," he started, feeling uneasy. "You said you needed a lawyer. What for?"

"To defend me for withholding key evidence in a homicide investigation."

At this, Harm sharply looked at her, unable to believe what he'd just heard. "You didn't..."

Another sob from her was all the answer he needed. "Yes, I did," she whispered.

"Tell me everything, right from the beginning."

Teresa sniffed a little and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "The ONI called me last Monday, telling me they needed me at Bethesda, to conduct an autopsy on a corpse that had recently been discovered. I don't know why they wanted me of all people, but I guess the report about my performance in Afghanistan with Kabir must have read good."

She shrugged fatalistically. "Whatever, doesn't really matter anyway. The only information that the Navy spooks decided I was worthy of getting was that the person they suspected the corpse to be had been missing for two years, one Lieutenant Commander Clarice Brown. There was next to nothing left of her, Harm, just bones and hair, but the dental X-ray identified her without mistake. She died from a gunshot wound. The bullet was still stuck in her shoulder blade, but as it was a standard 9mm, it could have come from any 9mm handgun whatsoever."

Harm's brow furrowed. "Mac didn't give me any names because it's her and Bud's case but she did ask me for some advice on Friday night. She told me the story and hoped I had an idea because the autopsy hadn't supplied any evidence. But it did... right?"

Teresa nodded, averting her eyes. "It was a real lucky shot. The body had been buried in a plastic bag with a zipper, and stuck in the zipper I found a single hair that wasn't from the victim. I ran a DNA analysis and compared the results to the existing DNA databases. When Brown first disappeared, they collected saliva samples of all of her colleagues at the base where she was stationed at the time..."

"Earle," Harm cut in, understanding.

Teresa gasped. "So that's where he knew her from..." Fresh pain made her squeeze her eyes shut for a moment.

"And there was a DNA match?" Harm carefully probed, dreading her answer.

"Yes," she managed in a choked voice, nodding.

"Marcus," Harm guessed.

"Yes," she confirmed, her voice even lower. "I ran multiple scans, I tried the other databases, prison inmates, convicted rapists, murderers and such... but the result stayed the same. I couldn't believe it. I still can't... It can't have been him, I mean, why would he do such a thing?" New tears made her stop.

"Weapons trading," Harm supplied the information he had. "Mac told me that Brown was trying to uncover an organization that sold weapons out of Earle. Still, Mac doesn't believe that Marcus is connected to the weapons trading, Terry. He wasn't in the States when part of the transactions took place." He sighed. "That you found his hair on the bag does incriminate him big time, but then - it could still be a setup by the real culprit. The murderer might have coaxed her to come out to where she was found. He could have written the email to Marcus, telling him in her name that she wanted to end their relationship..."

"They were having an affair?" Teresa stared at him. "He told me I was the first woman he came to love after his wife died eight years ago..."

Harm was grieved that he had to hurt her more but she needed to know. "They were involved, Terry. It was this email I spoke of that pointed the investigators to the spot where Brown was found. Anyway, what I was getting at was that the killer could somehow have gotten his hands on Marcus's hair and set him up. Okay, I admit that doing it with a single hair, burying it along with the body, doesn't sound too much like a planned action, but it's still not impossible that it could have been planted there."

Harm's voice had turned doubtful. He wanted to believe in Roland's innocence, for Terry's sake, but the facts were overwhelming. Swallowing hard, he locked his gaze with his friend's. "Terry, try to think objectively. Try to let go of the loving fiancée for a second and tell me: do you really believe he's innocent?"

She held his glance, hope and trust in him shining in her eyes. "Yes," she said very low. "Even if I didn't love him so much: he's a good man. He really is, Harm. From how I've seen him interact with whoever he came across, I can tell you that this man cares deeply for whoever gets near him. He is protective and attentive, he helps you out wherever he can. He's completely incapable of doing any harm to anyone."

It was the calm, open sincerity in her statement that did it. Although he still couldn't rid himself of the last bits of doubt, he believed what she told him. Basically, that had been the image he had gotten of Roland himself. Hearing it confirmed in such a clear way, Harm was inclined to rely on it as a given. "If you tell me this is true, then I swear I'm going to find out who wants him in Leavenworth," he solemnly promised.

There was something in his glance that worried her. He looked... haunted? Teresa's brow furrowed as she studied his features. "Why do you believe someone deliberately placed the evidence with the corpse to set him up?"

"Something of the kind recently happened to me, you know..." he trailed off, trying to shake the memories.

"They suspected you to have killed someone?" she blurted out, taken aback.

"Worse," he answered, looking away. "They court-martialed me for it."

"Gosh! Harm, I didn't know. I'm so sorry, I... I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

He gave her a wan smile. "No, it's nothing I can't handle." He sobered. "I'm glad you came, and now I want you to keep an open mind on this one. It's still possible that he's innocent, and I promise that I'll do everything in my power to find out the truth. Where's the evidence now?"

She sighed, her expression grief-stricken. "I... I destroyed it, Harm. I don't know, I just... freaked out, I guess. I'm sorry."

Squeezing her hand, he tried to reassure her. "Tell you what: no one knows about it, right?"

"Yeah."

"So for now, we'll leave it at that. I want you to go home now. What did you tell Marcus anyway where you'd be going?"

"I told him I went to church."

"All right, now go home and act normal. There's no need to create any confusion as long as we don't know what happened. However, I want you to promise me that you'll keep your eyes open, right? Anything you notice may be important." 'And I don't want you to let your guard down around a possible murderer, however unlikely that may be,' he added silently, hoping he was doing the right thing.

"Okay," she answered, her voice ringing with relief. "Thank you, Harm."

Once again he pulled her tight. "Anytime, Terry. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

**********COMMERCIAL***BREAK**********

You want to go to Europe but you're afraid to fly?

Here's the solution: come to Quebec City! The oldest fortified town in North America will show you what it's like across the Atlantic. And Château Frontenac is a sight you'll never forget!

***(Shout-out to my dear Canadian beta-reader! Thank you, Heather!)***

********************************************

The moment Teresa left, Harm sprinted to get his phone.

'Mac, I swear, if you're still not at home, then...'

He didn't get to contemplate the 'Then what?' as he heard a distinct clicking in the line.

["Mackenzie."]

"Mac! Where the heck have you been?" he blurted out without thinking.

["Uh... good morning to you, too, Commander."] He could clearly hear the stunned annoyance in her voice.

'Nice move, Rabb...' However, he didn't have the time now to try correcting his lapse. He needed to get his information to her ASAP. He had to relieve Teresa - and himself - from any remaining doubts about Roland.

"Sorry, Mac. But I've been trying to call you for the last two hours. I think I've got some very important information concerning your case."

["That might just make me forget your lack of civility, sailor,"] she replied with an audible smile. ["I'm all ears. By the way, I was jogging."]

"That's what I suspected. Listen, is your suspect by any chance a certain Commander Marcus Roland?"

He heard her suck in her breath. ["Gracious! How did you find that out?"]

"Yesterday I got to know Teresa's fiancé, remember? He's a charming, good-looking, tall, blond guy with brown eyes. That somehow rang a bell. I inquired where he'd been stationed before and when he mentioned Earle and Saudi Arabia, I had a certain notion. Still, I'm convinced he isn't the kind of man who could do such things."

A distinct swearword from her made him jump. "Hey, what's up?"

["Teresa Coulter is engaged to Marcus Roland?"] A disconcerting amount of dread was detectible in her voice even across the phone line.

Harm felt he was getting confused. "Yeah, she is. He definitely is the one for her, Mac. I can't believe he'd be able to kill anyone. He really cares..."

["God, Harm, that's just the point,"] she frantically interrupted him. ["Where's Teresa now?"]

"She came to talk to me about something personal this morning and then she went home again." Harm was beginning to feel scared by Mac's behavior. Once again there was something to the picture that he didn't get. Her next question puzzled him even more.

["Did Roland know she was with you?"]

"No, she told him she went to church, but why..." He didn't get any further. Loud swearing made him hold his breath - there was an unmistakable sound of pure horror in her voice.

"What the..."

["Harm!"] She was using her best command voice now that was ringing with dread. ["No matter what, you've got to go after her. Now! Get into your car and call me when you're on the way. There's not a minute to lose!"]

For a second, Harm just stared at the receiver in his hand before he lifted it to his ear again. "Would you care to enlighten me..."

["Go, dammit!!!"]

Contradicting was not an option. Harm decided not to question her order any further. Somehow, he felt he needed to trust her in this. And he was beginning to be scared like hell for Teresa. "Call you back in a minute."

He put on his running shoes, grabbed the keys and his gun and was on his way, wondering what new turn the case might have taken this time. He still found it hard to believe that Roland might be guilty but Mac had sounded so horrified. Could there be any other reason?

As soon as he was in his SUV, headed for Rosslyn, he called her back on the car's speakerphone. "Okay, I'm on my way. So, what's this about?"

["Bud and I put the scheme together. We're not able to prove it yet, but it makes sense, I swear. Harm, that man killed three women. He's a serial. First his wife, then twice the women he was involved with."]

For a split second, panic jolted through Harm's entire body, but then reason got the upper hand. "Wait a minute, Mac: first you had one victim and no evidence, now you have three and still no evidence, and nevertheless you think it's all Roland's doing? Where's the logic in that?"

He could tell she was genuinely worried and trying to make him believe her. ["Harm, there's no time for long explanations now. All I need you to do is to make sure Teresa is safe! If Bud's and my theory is correct, the fact that she's got secrets from him might be as good as a death sentence! He's a divorce kid and lived through really ugly things, Harm. His wife had secrets and he suspected she betrayed him. She committed suicide but we're convinced she didn't. The same with the next victim. She, too, had secrets from Roland. She died in a car accident but we think there was nothing accidental to it. And he did it again with Commander Brown. He loved them all very much, but the moment they started getting secretive around him for whatever reason, he just lost it. If he has any idea that Terry went to see you this morning..."]

This was all the explanation Harm needed to get the picture. Cold fear made him step on the accelerator. "He even suspected something yesterday, Mac," he hurriedly explained. "Teresa of all people did the autopsy on Commander Brown. She told me this morning that she'd found something and thought there had to be a mistake. She didn't tell him but he knows something's bothering her. I might need backup! He lives in Rosslyn, 328 Clarendon Boulevard."

["Hang on, I'll be right there!"]

Once again, Harm thanked God that there was such a thing as friendship.

 

Same time
Clarendon Blvd.
Rosslyn, VA

 

Teresa was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee when she opened the apartment door with her key. "Marcus?" she called tentatively, "I'm back." She felt her heart was beating far too fast for her liking.

With an easy smile, Roland met her halfway across the room, opening his arms to her. "Hey, hon," he said in his gentle voice, "How was the service?"

Stepping into his embrace, Teresa felt herself relax, despite the slight bad conscience she was having because of her lie. "Hi," she breathed, hugging him back and closing her eyes, "It was very nice."

"Which church did you go to?" he asked.

Teresa tried not to jump. 'Think hard... do you know any churches in D.C.?' "Umm... St. John's."

"Oh, the presidential church? See any VIPs?"

She felt she was beginning to sweat. "No, I... I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. The sermon was nice," she added.

For a moment, he just held her, caressing her back, and her tension lessened. "Really? What was it about?" he asked, seemingly disinterested.

Teresa felt herself stiffen as the adrenaline level in her blood rose yet again. What did they talk about in church at this time of the year? "The... the Acts of the Apostles," she tried. "The coming of the Holy Spirit."

Roland continued his gentle caresses. "Strange," he answered, more to himself than to her, "I thought Pentecost Sunday was three weeks ago..."

Damn. Teresa gritted her teeth. She'd had no idea that he was familiar with the church calendar. Puzzled, she looked up at him, but he only smiled.

"Never mind. The priest surely had a reason to do some follow-up," he stated.

"Yeah." Relieved that he didn't seem to have noticed her mistake, Teresa again surrendered to his gentle attentions, feeling he was about to sweep her away like he always did.

Eventually, he drew back, casting her a loving glance. "Before we sit down with our coffee, I'd like to go down to the laundry room for a moment," he told her. "The washing machine should be finished by now."

"Don't you think it's time you had yours repaired?" she softly asked him with a twinkle in her eye.

He smiled guiltily. "I know, I know... next week, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. "Come on, let's get the stuff into the dryer." Reaching for her key, she went to the door.

When she had stepped outside, she heard him call out to her. "Terry, the coffee maker just made a complete mess of my kitchen floor... you go downstairs, I'll follow in a second or two."

"Sure," she called back and descended the stairs. Down in the basement, she headed directly to the laundry room and started emptying the washing machine when she heard the door open and close again. Then the lights went out.

She gave a startled cry but immediately calmed herself a little when she heard someone humming 'Strangers in the Night'. It sounded purposely seductive.

"Marcus?" she asked, uneasy.

"Expect anyone else?" he asked slyly, making her chuckle. He drew her close - and she gladly let him. "Doesn't the smell of fresh laundry make you think of something else...?" he whispered into her ear.

Chuckling harder, she pressed herself to him, knowing he had her eating out of his hands. "Hmm hmmm..."

Shivers were running down her spine as she felt his fingers caress her hair, her ears, her cheeks...

"Wait a moment. Why are you wearing gloves?" she asked, opening her eyes in slight astonishment.

"Sorry 'bout that, baby," he breathed, "But my hands are sticky with my neurodermitis treatment. I'll take the gloves off as soon as the cream soaks in, okay?"

"Sure, sorry..." Teresa closed her eyes, feeling his fingertips trace her hairline, her jaw, her neck - gloved or not, the touch was heavenly.

Suddenly she felt a sharp sting at the left side of her neck. "Ow!" She broke away, holding the hurting spot when her heart suddenly skipped a beat. Horrified, she looked at the minuscule furry object in her hand. "Marcus... oh God... help!" she cried. "A bee..." In frighteningly short time, she felt her breathing get labored and gray dots were starting to dance in front of her eyes.

He only held on to her, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Why, Teresa? Why? Wasn't I good enough? What did I do that made you turn away? You gave me your word. Forever, remember? You could have told me about Rabb, Teresa... before you accepted me. Instead, you told me you had a secret assignment. And you were in D.C. of all places, in D.C.! Did you get involved with me because you needed a reason to come back to see him every so often? All I wanted for us was heaven on earth, Teresa... I handed you my heart and you threw it away, just like that..." Sobs made him stop.

Teresa had listened in utter confusion that had quickly turned to horror. "Marcus," she croaked out, struggling against her swelling trachea, "No... I... love... you... help..."

When her knees started to buckle, he gently lowered her on the concrete. "You thought I wanted to free the unlucky little animal that was lost in my kitchen yesterday," he told her in a low, shaking voice, that at the same time sounded strangely elated. "But my little friend told me that she had come for a reason... She wanted me to avenge my broken heart... like with Nicole... like with Olivia... like with Clarice... This has always been so hard, Teresa, so incredibly hard, doing it alone. This time, heaven sent the little fairy to help me, you know... I begged her to give you one more chance, Teresa. That's why I captured her. But she kept calling out to me all night, Terry. Her mind's voice never let me sleep... I kept fighting it - until this morning when I found that it was true..."

The last thing that Teresa understood before the darkness overpowered her, made her world shatter into a million pieces. She had lost her heart to a madman. 'At least, it doesn't matter anymore,' she thought, strangely relieved as the numbness started soothing her grief.

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The apartment door stood ajar. Still panting from running up four flights of stairs, Harm slowed his speed and drew his weapon, listening. When he didn't hear a sound from inside, he cautiously entered and looked around.

Coffee in the air, plates on the table, an open newspaper on the couch, Teresa's purse on the side-board...

His pulse accelerating, Harm carefully checked the other rooms. The home-office lay deserted. In the bedroom, the bed had been made. No sign of anybody in the bathroom. In the kitchen, the coffeemaker was still bubbling silently but the room lay deserted. 'They can't have gone far - or they would have switched off the coffeemaker, wouldn't they?' Harm wondered, frowning. He started skimming his surroundings for any sign whatsoever that might point him where Teresa and Marcus might be - Mac's story had made too much sense not to be afraid for Teresa's safety.

Had they gone do some shopping? No, they wouldn't have left the door ajar. They had to be somewhere in the house... but where? The basement maybe?

For lack of a better option, Harm sprinted down the stairs again. When he found the fire-proof door to the basement unlocked as well, his sense of dread grew. Securing his way with his sidearm he entered the quiet corridor, trying every door and finding them all locked.

"Damn," he swore under his breath when he suddenly heard a low voice from somewhere at the far end of the corridor. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he instantly recognized it as Roland's. And it sounded strange. Deadly strange...

Harm quickly made out where the sound was coming from: the laundry room. In a split second, he was outside the door and soundlessly opened it - to see a figure lying motionless on the floor of the dark room, another figure - unmistakably Roland's tall frame - kneeling over it. Harms heart skipped a beat. He turned on the lights and dashed into the small room, his handgun aimed at Roland.

"Get your hands off her!" he yelled.

Roland only needed the fraction of a second to react. Seemingly complying Harm's order, he lifted his hands and, staying low, moved away from Teresa, right in Harm's direction. Still on his knees, he suddenly spun around and tackled Harm's legs, making him fall.

"Rabb!" he cried, his handsome features hideously distorted as he flung himself at Harm again. "This is all your fault, you bastard!"

Harm found himself pinned down on the concrete with amazing force. Struggling hard, he succeeded in rolling the two of them over and freeing his left arm from Roland's death grip. He landed a hard blow on his adversary's jaw. Momentarily, he had the upper hand, but the brusque movement made him lose his grip on his handgun. It toppled on the floor - right into Roland's reach.

Roland instantly grabbed it and didn't hesitate: a shot rang out, its echo reverberating through the basement into the hallway...

...making a person who had just begun to sprint up the stairs turn around in horror and race downstairs instead. Her own gun drawn, Mac stormed into the basement. She at once noted the open door at the end of the corridor and ran towards it. A second shot made the blood freeze in her veins.

She yanked the door open. "Harm!"

She paled when she spotted him. He wasn't hurt - but he was trapped in between two laundry cabinets, directly in Roland's line of fire. She instantly pulled the trigger. A direct hit in the head made Roland go down.

Briefly closing his eyes, Harm drew a deep, shaky breath. "Excellent timing, Marine," he muttered before he forcefully pushed himself out of the gap and rushed over to where Teresa was lying, her neck and face frighteningly swollen.

"She's not breathing, Mac!" he called in panic. Searching for a pulse, he noticed the dead bee on the floor beside her hand. "We've got to get her to the hospital, she's in an anaphylactic shock!"

As carefully as possible, Harm lifted Teresa up on his arms and carried her to his car, Mac holding the doors open for him to pass. While Harm secured Teresa on the backseat, Mac slipped behind the wheel.

"Throw me the keys, sailor, you're in no condition to drive!"

Grateful, Harm complied. Mac instantly sped off. Harm allowed himself to relax a little on the passenger seat. When she looked over at him in concern, he impulsively placed his hand over hers on the stick shift. "I owe you one," he said with a slight smile. "That's how many altogether now?"

 

Sunday
1304 Local
Northern Virginia Community Hospital
Arlington, VA

 

'Okay, squid, this is worth dinner.' With a relieved sigh, Mac stepped out of the elevator and made her way to Teresa's room. Seeing that Harm had been reluctant to leave his friend's side until she woke up, Mac had volunteered to do the paperwork with the police. She wouldn't mind another Beef Stroganoff at his place in compensation, she thought with a smile.

Not knowing if Teresa's roommate was asleep, Mac carefully opened the door and peeped in. When she caught sight of the bed near the window, she bit her lip, unable to ignore the sting the sight inflicted.

Harm was sitting on Teresa's bed, holding her in a tight embrace and tenderly caressing her hair. She was crying in despair, clinging to him as she would to a preserver. Their attention was focused on each other.

"No, don't be ashamed, honey," Mac heard Harm say in a low, soothing voice. "Everyone is searching for the one person he or she can love for a lifetime. Sometimes that just makes you behave irrationally. It's not your fault at all." He drew back a little and tenderly brushed away Teresa's tears with his thumb. Somehow, the simple gesture made Mac swallow hard - she knew too well what this gentle touch felt like.

'Was this how he felt when he saw me kiss Clay?' she wondered, not daring to enter the room right now.

Teresa wiped her eyes and managed a slight smile. "So you say I'm not the only one crazy enough to hope for 'happily-ever-after'?" she asked, a touch of her well-known sarcasm creeping into her voice.

Harm just looked at her. "No, you aren't," he answered.

A mischievous twinkle lit up her still teary eyes. "So... you're still searching for 'the one' yourself?" she ventured boldly.

Uneasy, Harm looked down. "As I said: everyone is," he replied evasively.

Noting that Harm was growing increasingly uncomfortable, Mac decided to come to his rescue. With an easy smile, she stepped into the room. "Paperwork's done," she said simply.

Teresa's grin widened. "Speaking of the devil," she remarked in Harm's direction, winking.

He shot her a dirty look.

Mac had heard their exchange and felt strangely relieved. "Hello Teresa," she greeted her warmly. "Nice to have you back among the living."

"Thanks to you, Colonel," Teresa answered easily. Then she sobered a little. "I mean it: Thank you. For everything."

"I'm so sorry it had to turn out this way," Mac offered, inwardly recoiling at the flatness of her statement.

"So am I," Teresa said sincerely. "Harm told me what a monster he was." Her voice began to shake a little on the last words, but she drew a decided breath, swallowed and willed a slight smile back onto her face. "At least he won't hurt anyone ever again."

"No, Mac made sure of that," Harm added with a grateful smile in Mac's direction.

"And I'm glad that I did," Mac added. "That guy was a real perfectionist. I would never have been able to prove my theory."

At this, Teresa cast a quick questioning glance at Harm and he nodded. Reassured, she looked at Mac. "No, this time you would have," she said, determination ringing in her voice. "And it will be my pleasure to nail him posthumously for what he did."

"I'm looking forward to it," Mac replied.

When the silence began to stretch, Harm stood up and helped Terry lay back. Seeing that she was exhausted, Harm and Mac said their goodbyes, promising to drop by the next day to make sure she got a safe ride home.

"Don't worry, I'll be just fine," Teresa answered, reluctant to admit that she would indeed love to have company.

"And we'll be fine seeing that you are, right, Mac?" Harm shot back, looking first at Teresa, then at Mac.

"Right," Mac confirmed. "See you tomorrow, Teresa." With a smile, she turned and left the room.

The blond doctor fought sleep a second longer. "Thank you. And Harm?"

Already on the way to the door, he turned. "Yeah?"

"Don't go on searching," Teresa said with a wink.

Blushing slightly, Harm just nodded in defeat and joined Mac in the corridor outside the room.

She eyed him warily, noting the color on his cheeks and the furrow on his forehead. "Any problems?"

"No, it's nothing," he hastily replied with lopsided grin.

"If you're worried about Teresa's obstruction-of-justice charges..." Mac began but Harm cut her off.

"I'm sure we'll be able to cut a deal, right?"

"What do you propose?"

"Punitive letter of reprimand."

Mac drew a deep theatrical sigh. She had already decided to go for non-judicial punishment as well but she didn't want to let him win that easily. "I'll have to talk to Bud about this," she drawled with an impressive frown. However, the corners of her mouth wouldn't stay in place.

Harm shook his head, looking down as silent laughter made his shoulders shake. "Let's talk about this tomorrow morning at the office, okay?"

"Deal."

He shot her a glance. "Uh... deal about doing this tomorrow or deal about Terry's case?"

"Just wait and see," she answered casually, cocking her head with a smile that Harm could only describe as... seductive? Confused, he turned his head in the other direction.

"Yeah, right... okay," he murmured, walking on without daring to look at her.

"Mac?" he eventually addressed her.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for handling the police stuff. And for being such a help. Would... ah... would Beef Stroganoff à la Harm be all right? Say, 1900, my place?"

Her grin lit up the dim corridor. "Commander Rabb, you're a mind reader."

 

THE END

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