Always Faithful- Chapter TwoA Chapter by Dakota
"You're
serious about this?" Special Agent Kyla Winters had done her fair share of
time in the Corps, like some of the other agents at NCIS, and, like most female
Marines, she had a certain apprehensions about Infantry Marines. "You
couldn't have gone with Thompson or Gray?"
"What's
wrong with you?" Senior Agent Wes McMichael asked climbing out of the
crime scene truck. He knew that fresh out of the Corps, and new to the Navel
Criminal Investigative Service, Winters would have to overcome several years of
the stereotypes the other side of the Marine Corps had about the Infantry;
where he had come from himself.
"Well,
at the risk of stating the obvious, I'm female." Winters looked down at
her blue jeans and black t- shirt as if only just now noticing her anatomy
herself.
McMichael
raised an eyebrow, throwing a sideways glance at her as they walked towards the
barracks. "And you think that's going to make a difference because?"
"The
only thing these grunts are going to notice is that I have a chest! Seriously,
they're like dogs, almost."
"Oh no
ma'am!" Came a voice behind her. She turned, almost startled because she
hadn't noticed the two Marines.
Some agent I
am, she thought bitterly; aloud she tried to apologize. "I didn’t mean to
insult you, Corporal-"
The Marines
looked at each other and laughed, the smaller Corporal spoke again. "Oh,
no insult ma'am I simply meant to say that we're more like coyotes then dogs.
Dogs are pampered, we ain't."
“Dannings,
James: get your corn pone asses up here rickety tick!” A burly southern Marine
shouted from up in the barracks.
They walked
past her and McMichael before the larger one turned, walking backwards, and
added: "You don't have to worry, though, the only one that bites is me and
I've had all my shots!" He turned back and continued joking with his buddy
as they disappeared into the barracks.
At that
moment Winters looked up and noticed that almost every Marine on their suspect
list had just witnessed the exchange and were openly staring at her as she
followed behind her partner through the same doorway the Marines that had just
entered. Definitely work on your observation skills! She scolded herself as she
climbed the stairs to the second deck.
The entire
day of questioning continued in the same manner as it had started. The grunts,
realizing she had been a female Marine, would come in wearing gas masks. Claiming
through barely controlled laughter that the issued masks were the closest
things to a muzzle they had. For the most part, though, after the laughter had
faded the Marines knew how to get down to business regarding their murdered
Staff Sergeant.
"Can't
think of any one of us that liked him all that much when we got here in the
beginning, ma'am." The Corporal that had joked about her remark earlier
leaned his large frame back into a chair and glanced around the common area
that they had turned into a makeshift work area to question the Marines separately.
Winters
popped the top on a soda and tried to not make it obvious that she had to look
at her paper to remember his name. "Well, Corporal James, what about now?
Is there anybody that might still be hanging on to bad sentiments?"
He shrugged
his massive shoulders, and pulled a can of smokeless tobacco out of his cargo
pocket. He started packing it to take a pinch while he answered, "Nothing
out of the ordinary really, ma'am; you get the ones that just don't like the
Marines in charge no matter what their leadership style is. Some guys are just
born pranksters and some are born hard-asses."
Unsure why
James had added that last comment, Winters pressed him. "What do you mean,
Corporal?"
He shrugged
again shoving a fair amount of tobacco grains into his bottom lip before
closing the can and brushing excess grains onto his trouser leg. "Aw,
nothing really; just remembering the way ol’ Staff Sergeant Tyler used to rip
us a new one in public and slap our backs when no one could see if we got one
over on the Captain or the Gunny. Hell, he even went as far as to get Sergeant Christianson
passed over for Staff select last month for a prank he pulled on Gunny
Torres."
Winters almost
choked on her soda, and she repeated his last statement. "Tyler kept
Sergeant Christianson from being promoted?" She picked up her pen and
started writing at a furious pace.
The Corporal
nodded and stood quickly, intent on getting out of that room as quick as he
could. "Yes ma'am, said something about how it showed a lack of proper
bearing which would cause immature leadership choices or some trash like that."
He moved to open the door, "now ma’am if that's all I've got to get out of
here before I start tweaking. PTSD is a b***h to me if I have to stay in closed
areas for too long." Winters nodded and followed him out. Surprised when
she heard his name bellowed from their right as they exited, but for some
reason didn’t think the Corporal shared that emotion as he jogged over to the
same burly Sergeant that had yelled at him earlier as they were entering the
barracks.
The agent
hung back as the sergeant addressed his junior Marine, but when he stopped
speaking and the Corporal went about his business she approached the NCO.
Making sure to read his name tape before she spoke, she pursed her lips. “Excuse me, Sergeant Loveless, where can I
find Sergeant Christianson? He’s next on my list along with a Corporal Lazaro.”
Even through
his wraparound ballistic glasses she could tell the Marine standing on the
sunlit catwalk had not looked at her once since she approached him. He stuck a
cigarette in his mouth as he answered her in a deep southern accent. “Ma’am
Sergeant Christianson is assisting the casualty assistance officers in their
duties of informing the widow. I’m not sure where Lazaro is at this moment, but
I can scare him up for you in about ten mikes.” He turned and started shouting
down the cat walk at a Marine who had stepped from his barracks room without a
shirt on as if he hadn’t just been speaking to her.
“Sergeant
Loveless?” She prodded as he appeared to be moving away from her. “Why did they
send Sergeant Christianson with casualty assistance? Is there not a policy
dictating against such things?
Loveless lit
his cigarette and huffed impatiently, “Yes, ma’am, there are.” He paused and
cocked his head to the side; gazing past her. “Hey Alavarez, you see Gabriel
you tell him to bring his a*s to me ASAP, comprende?”
“Roger that,
Sergeant Loveless!” The Lance Corporal from Fox Company took off back in the
direction he had come as Winters turned to get a look at him; she whirled back
at Loveless who gave an easy grin.
“Sergeant
Christianson? Please, Sergeant Loveless.” She changed tactics. Attempting to be
a professional hard nose obviously did nothing for her progress with the
breakneck speed this laid back Marine seemed intent on at the moment.
The corners
of his mouth pulled down for an instant as if he were pondering how to answer
her question without divulging too much information. “Marc really is where I
said he is, Agent Winters, I know enough about how these investigations work to
know better than to lie about that.” He paused, exhaling a group of smoke
rings. “The reason why is far more complicated.”
This
intrigued her and she gulped her soda in anticipation. “Please, Sergeant, tell
me. I know it probably seems like a personal inquisition into every Marine and
spouse associated with your company, but we have to ask these things if we’re
going to find who did this to Staff Sergeant Tyler.”
The large
Marine scoffed and jumped up to sit on the railing behind him. “Two rotations
back we lost another Sergeant. Tyler, Christianson and myself all called him
our best friend, but losing him really felt like losing a brother to all three
of us.” He took a ragged breath and the last drag off his cigarette before he
continued. “Our group, our family, is barely over losing him, and so to send
another strange Gunnery Sergeant and Chaplain into our circled wagon train not
even two years after the last one when we had a member of the group here that
could do it just didn’t seem right to us.”
The agent
nodded, accepting the answer as it sank in. She wanted to reach out and pat the
large man on his shoulder, but it would’ve violated protocol. So she gave a
small comforting grin. “You and Christianson may hold the keys to solving this,
Sergeant Loveless. We’ll come to ya’ll if we need helping fitting pieces.” At
his curt nod she walked back to her makeshift interrogation room and took a
deep breath once the door closed behind her.
“I still
cannot account for the whereabouts of Corporal Lazaro or Sergeant Christianson
at the time the coroner suspects the death occurred.” Winters hated unanswered
questions, they made her skin crawl.
“Did you get
to speak to Lazaro?” McMichael asked casually, fiddling with his phone as they
walked back to the vehicle as the sun went down.
Winters felt
her scowl deepen, “No, and I didn’t get Christianson, either, for that matter.”
“D****t all
to hell, Nikolas, it’s none of your f*****g business why!” The sudden shout
brought both agent’s eyes to the parking row on their right. Winters instantly
recognized Sergeant Loveless from their encounter earlier in the afternoon, but
the Marine yelling at him had only a fleeting familiarization.
Both agents
stopped as Loveless fired back, “The f**k it’s not my business, MC! What the
f**k is your problem? Where do you get off f*****g around with her behind our
backs, brother? How do you think her f*****g husband would feel? For all that’s
holy, Marc, help me f*****g understand where your head is, son!”
So this is
the unreachable Marc Christianson. Winters thought, unimpressed with the dirty
jeans and backwards ball cap over the shirtless torso. The agents approached
gingerly whispering their assumptions as the Marines continued cleaning out the
bed of the large truck Christianson had drove up in.
“He’s not
going to be thinking much about anything Nik, because he’s f*****g dead. Our
brothers are f*****g dead, man.”
Loveless
scoffed and threw a cigarette on the ground. “Yeah, MC, they’re gone, so I
guess you’re just going to move in, play f*****g house, and pick up those
pieces for yourself huh?” When he didn’t get an answer Loveless exploded,
giving the silent eavesdroppers a startle. “HUH? Never mind how much that man
f*****g loved you, right? Never mind how much he f*****g bled for you! Covered
s**t up for you! Putting his own f*****g career at risk so you weren’t labeled
a Blue Falcon.” Nikolas scoffed and threw his arms up in the air when he looked
up to find Christianson just staring at him, an issued gear bag in his hand.
“Yeah, I see your point, MC. F**k that man, and f**k his memory because that’s
a hot piece of cherry tart just going to f*****g waste if the brother he
trusted most ain’t moving in on her, right?”
“I risked
just as much for him as he did for me, Loveless! F**k, man, I knew him from
boot camp all the way up into the f*****g fleet, brother. I f*****g loved him
too, d****t!” Christianson’s voice broke and he looked down and took a deep
breath before looking back up with a plea in his eyes. “I’m moving back into my
f*****g barracks room, Nik, is that not enough for you?” He stated calmly,
attempting to diffuse the situation.
Loveless
scoffed and pulled his keys out of his cargo pocket. “Where you physically are
don’t mean s**t, Blue Falcon, because you still want to f**k your buddy’s wife.
Stay the f**k away from me, you a*****e. I ain’t got nothing else to say to
you, mother f****r.” Christianson’s shock kept from saying anything as he
watched his only remaining friend storm away.
Winters took
that opportunity to stand up. “Sergeant Marcus Christianson?”
The medium
built Marine tossed the gear in his hands into the pile on the concrete beside
the truck tire and stooped to grab something else. “Yeah, who are you?” He
growled as he continued working.
“Agent
Winters, NCIS.” She smirked when he looked up at her stunned. She liked having
the upper hand on her suspects. “I have questions for you about Staff Sergeant
Tyler, and about that conversation I just overheard.” She added, curious to see
his reaction to the obvious pry.
“What just
happened has nothing to do with Jeff, Agent Winters.” He replied evenly, stepping
off the side of the truck bed and landing beside her smelling as sweaty as he
looked in the fading light of the humid Carolina evening.
“I’ll be the
judge of what’s relevant to this investigation, Sergeant. Maybe you’d like to
shower, first?”
© 2014 DakotaReviews
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6 Reviews Added on May 11, 2010 Last Updated on February 25, 2014 AuthorDakotaKSAboutI'm a thirty year old mother of eight homeschool wildlings (ages 14-3), and the wife of a Marine grunt I met the way one usually meets grunts: at our first duty station. I don't write like a girl, .. more..Writing
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