Navy Orders. Geri Krotow

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СКАЧАТЬ about, not yet.

      The commodore pursed his lips and fiddled with the fountain pen that sat in a brass holder on his desk.

      “We have a big problem, folks, and there’s no easy way to tell you about it.” He steepled his hands in front of his face and took a deep breath.

      “One of our young sailors died last night. It’s a clear case of suicide brought on by wartime post-traumatic stress disorder. Miles, I’m sorry to tell you it was a man from your department. Petty Officer José Perez.”

      The air left Ro’s lungs.

      “AMS1 Perez?” She referred to him by his enlisted rate―aviation structural mechanic―and rank―petty officer first class.

      “You knew him?” The commodore’s attention made shivers race up her spine.

      “Yes, sir.”

      The commodore’s hawkish gaze made her feel like she was the one under investigation. She wriggled her toes in her black patent uniform shoes. She’d be damned if she’d ever let anyone see her squirm, no matter the reason.

      Her last conversation with the sailor flashed in her mind. Petty Officer Perez had been a friendly, easygoing type, no older than her—probably a couple of years younger, in fact. He’d had the fire in his belly that made her smile. It motivated her when a junior ranking sailor was so dedicated to the navy.

      Now he was dead.

      “When’s the last time you saw him?” Ross’s voice was gentler than the commodore’s but Ro caught the grim underlying tone.

      “I had coffee with him on the hangar deck yesterday afternoon.”

      “At the gedunk?” The CSO referred to the snack shack that everyone in the hangar spaces frequented for decent coffee and greasy-spoon fare.

      “Yes, sir. He wanted to ask me about switching rates to IS.” Intelligence specialist. “I told him it was pretty much too late in his career as he’s—he was—up for chief on his next exam.” She winced at her word choice. Perez would never be promoted again.

      The room was silent. It didn’t matter what Petty Officer Perez wanted from his navy career—it was over. Ro felt a strong sense of sorrow and regret.

      “He didn’t work in the weapons office, sir.” Miles broke the tension with his steady professionalism.

      “No, but he was in maintenance. You’re on the hangar deck a lot with weapons and no doubt worked with him.” The commodore responded to Miles without any sign of a condescending attitude.

      “This is going to hit the press before long, and when it does there’s potential for it to turn into more than it is. At the very least, I expect the media will try to blame this command for not seeing the warning signs of Perez’s PTSD. I need to have you—” he pointed at Miles “—and you—” he waved his hand toward Ro “—on the case. You are hereby appointed to the investigative team for the death of Petty Officer José Perez.”

      He turned to Ro. “I’ve picked you because you have experience handling classified information. You know how to put pieces of a puzzle together without added fabrication.” The commodore ran his fingers across the top of his close-shaven head.

      “Miles, I’ve picked you because Perez is—was—in maintenance and on the hangar deck, which you’re familiar with. I can’t have the maintenance officer doing this. Plus he’s going to be busy enough handling the JAG, NCIS and possibly a higher-level investigation.”

      The commodore paused.

      “Hell, Miles, I picked you because you’ve got the most recent wartime experience on the staff. I know you won’t lose it over a dead body. I need your experience and stamina.”

      Ro looked at Miles. He was silent, his face solid and not yielding a clue as to his thoughts. A flash of envy hit her as she realized she’d never have that kind of demeanor.

      But she’d seen past Miles’s demeanor that morning on the bridge....

      “What about NCIS?” Miles finally asked, referring to the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. “And the civilian law enforcement authorities?”

      “They’re all doing their job, but none of them are required to report back to the commodore. You are,” Ross said. It was obvious he and the commodore had already hashed this out.

      So why wasn’t the command staff officer doing this investigation?

      Ro didn’t have to ask her question aloud. The CSO needed to handle the inevitable bombardment of message traffic and emails.

      “Commodore, how often do you want to hear from us, and what kind of report are you looking for when we’re done?” Miles’s expression remained unreadable to Ro. Professional, cool.

      “We’ll worry about that later. For now, just call me if anything shows up other than what we already know—that Petty Officer Perez killed himself last night.”

      Ro suppressed a sigh. Her instinct was to take some time to mourn Petty Officer Perez, to see what she could do to help his surviving family. She needed a chance to go back over the few conversations she’d had with him these past few months.

      Nonetheless, a mental list of the action items she had to clear off her desk, ASAP, rolled through her mind.

      Her job wasn’t going to involve her usual wing intel officer duties until the investigation was over; she was certain of that much.

      Naval investigations often dragged on for months, and she’d seen firsthand while deployed to the Gulf and detached to Afghanistan that there was little chance she’d have any true influence over the outcome. If the civilian law enforcement agencies had already been called in, she and Miles, representing the wing, didn’t even have jurisdiction to investigate. The local LEAs tended to be more cooperative in a close-knit community like Whidbey but she knew that if the feds got involved she and Miles would be out of luck.

      “What about the JAG?” Ro referred to their staff lawyer.

      “He’s going to provide support to the deceased’s family during this terrible time, and of course, he represents me for any official statements. He’ll work continuously with the public affairs officer. I named a lieutenant commander who was supposed to join the wing in a month as the casualty assistance calls officer.”

      Ro was impressed that the commodore had the foresight to appoint someone who’d probably never met Petty Officer Perez as CACO. That made it easier on the CACO to do his job—to ensure the family was provided for and received all benefits due to them as surviving members of the deceased.

      The commodore didn’t even mention any concern over how the intel and weapons departments would run with Ro and Miles out of the office for an indeterminate time. There was no need to. They both had staffs that would fill in until their return.

      This was an aspect of navy life Ro equally relished and despised. If she did her job right and delegated as much as possible, her subordinates were able to achieve their greatest potential and earn valuable experience. Ro had no doubt that she’d be able take on this unexpected mission and rely on the intel shop to carry on with its basic functions.

      Miles СКАЧАТЬ