ON TUESDAY MORNING, Ellen arrived right on time at the office. She was surprised to see Commander Dornier there, wanting an update from Jim on the Kane investigation. Ellen said good morning to both men and then settled down to business. She obviously couldn’t mention the beautiful, tender kiss they’d shared last evening. If Jim only knew how she’d tossed and turned all night.
As she gathered items for their forthcoming interviews at Giddings, the fatigue hit her hard. Before falling into an exhausted sleep at 3:00 a.m., Ellen had come to the conclusion that she’d have to have blind faith in the future where Jim was concerned. And if his quick, welcoming glance today was any indication, he’d gotten the same amount of sleep as she had.
Commander Dornier didn’t leave until Jim stood up, peered at his watch and told him they had to get to Giddings. After asking her to drive, Jim got on the radio with NCIS people regarding other investigations under their wing. No personal talk today. Ellen resigned herself and mentally prepared for another grueling day of interviews.
ELLEN EASED HER SANDALS off her feet after Becky Jillson had left. The office was quiet except for Cochrane’s hen-pecking on the computer keys. It was nearly noon, and she was famished. She placed her hand on her stomach to try and muffle the growling.
Cochrane looked up and gave her an elfin grin. “Is the big bad mama bear starving for lunch?” How badly he’d wanted to discuss the kiss they’d shared last night. There hadn’t been time, and he found himself frustrated by the continuous string of interviews they had to conduct.
Laughing, Ellen slowly stood up and slid her fingers down her spine to ease the tension from sitting so long. “Yes, I guess I’m hungry.” She ached to lean over and caress his hand. Under the circumstances, it was impossible. If they were ever seen during work hours “consorting” in a personal way, Ellen knew they’d be split up and she’d be sent back to Washington. That was enough to make her squelch her longing. She was going to have to be patient.
“You just can’t keep a secret,” he chuckled, typing up some final notes from their last interview. Lieutenant Becky Jillson had given them a lot of info.
“No, certainly not compared to Susan Kane. Now, there’s a real secret-keeper.” Ellen watched him highlight certain parts of Jillson’s report. “What do you make of Becky’s statement? She thinks Susan was implicated in something at Ares. And how about the fact that Becky saw those red marks on Susan’s wrist when she visited her in the hotel room? Now that’s something new.”
“Reckon it could be inflammatory as hell. Although it offers nothing concrete on Michelson, Bassett or Hodges.” Jim could smell the faint scent of the gardenia perfume Ellen wore. He inhaled it hungrily.
“Ann Hawkins fingered them.”
“But she’s not willing to flush her career down the commode to have them charged but not found guilty, either.” Cochrane shook his head. “We’ll need better evidence to prosecute any of those bastards. Someone else will have to break the code.”
“Becky didn’t seem too worried about reprisals. She gave us full testimony about what went on at Ares.” Ellen kept her hands at her sides. She wanted to rest them on Jim’s broad, proud shoulders.
With a snort, he muttered, “If she’s lucky, she’ll put in her twenty and get the rank of commander. Jillson has no great career opportunities like the men, so in effect, she has nothing to lose by telling us. Her husband is another story, though.”
“I didn’t realize how rough it got in that hallway outside the Leopard suite. According to her, women were running a gauntlet between drunken civilians and some pilots. Just like the Tailhook scandal. I thought that was done and over with.”
“Yep, Tailhook, or a mini version of it, was alive and well at Ares. If that’s so, some of these Top Gun aviators are in a lot of trouble. Like riding on the back of a wild razorback boar naked, my pa would say. And that’s rough.” Jim shut down the program and closed the laptop. “I found Susan’s wrist injury to be interesting, too, didn’t you?”
With a shrug, Ellen went back to her chair and slid her sandals on. “I think so. She was in a melee the night before in that same hallway outside the Leopard suite. I think it’s quite possible she got hurt then, don’t you?”
Standing, Cochrane picked up his cap and settled it on his head. “I don’t know. For me a red flag went up over the wrist.”
“Come on, Cochrane, I’m going to start gnawing on your arm if you don’t take me over to O’Learys. My gut is waving a red flag, too. It’s hungry and so am I.”
At O’LEARY’S RESTAURANT, on base, Jim sat across from Ellen. He’d ordered his favorite—corned beef on rye—and she had a chicken breast salad. Today, she wore a short-sleeved white blouse and a long, purple cotton skirt. And those ever-present Birkenstock sandals. He tried to keep the smile off his face as he watched her pick through her greens.
“What is it about women and salads?” he wondered, biting into his thick, sauerkraut filled sandwich. Thousand Island dressing dripped between his fingers.
“What is it about men and their corned beef sandwiches?”
Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he noted the challenging gleam in her eyes. “I thought you were going to say you were watching your weight.”
Ellen arched an eyebrow. “Give me a break, Jim. I don’t go for this ‘thin is in’ stuff. Women shouldn’t be starving themselves into being paper dolls, with an eighteen-inch waist. I’m curvy and I’m staying that way.”
“I knew you’d say something like that,” he said, picking up his large glass of cola. After a sip, he set his drink aside. “I like your curves.” And he wanted to explore them. Seeing her green eyes go soft, he whispered, “That was a compliment.”
Cutting into the salad, she smiled at him. “Thank you. I took it as one.” Ellen fantasized that his hands would linger here and there over her needy body. Never had she been so sexually hungry. Two years of celibacy was letting her know how much she missed good loving and sex with the right man.
“That one kiss sure brought my world to a halt.” Jim saw her cheeks turn a bright red. Knowing he was in uniform and there were eyes everywhere, he did not reach out to touch her hand, but satisfied himself with holding her gaze. “Are you sorry it happened, gal?”
Ellen put down her fork. “No,” she admitted in a low voice. Other patrons were sitting around them and she didn’t want them to overhear.
“You’re hesitant.” Jim motioned with his hand. “You have dark circles under your eyes. What happened? Did you lie awake all night incriminating yourself over kissing me?” He grinned wolfishly at her. Ellen touched her hair, which he was learning was a sign of nervousness. He hoped their mutual kiss was a good thing, but she appeared unsettled by it.
After pushing the salad aside, Ellen folded her hands and leaned forward. “I didn’t sleep much last night,” she confessed.
“Uh-oh.”
“Oh, don’t go there! Can you put yourself in my place?”
Nodding, he lowered his voice even more. “Yeah, I can. You lost the man you loved two years ago, and here you’ve just kissed a frog that didn’t turn into a prince. That is a bummer.”
Shaking her head, Ellen laughed. “You are such a master of misstatement, Cochrane!”
Jim set his sandwich aside. This conversation was a helluva lot more important than eating. Wiping his hands on the napkin again, he said, “Maybe I did get a little dramatic on that one. I know there are folks who view me as a warty ole frog, but you’re not one of them.” He saw Ellen relax, some of the tension dissolving from around her lovely mouth. A mouth he wanted to claim again—and again. “I didn’t get to sleep for a long time either, gal.”
“I didn’t think you would,” Ellen said sympathetically. “Probably rehashing the divorce and swearing not to get involved with anyone after that. Right?”
“Say, you’re good.”
“I’m an analyst. My life is about understanding people’s motives and problems. Even my own.”
“So, are you sorry you kissed me?” Cochrane’s heart skipped a beat as fear snaked through him. What if she said yes? He couldn’t stand the thought of that, now that he’d tasted her, felt the softness of her hungry mouth against his.
“No. Just wrestling with a lot of stuff, Jim. For the life of me, I never entertained the possibility of running into another man that I’d be interested in.” Ellen gave him a glittering smile and touched her hair. “After all, I’m a red-haired throwback to Irish warrior. There aren’t many men willing to take me on.”
“They can’t appreciate you. But I like what I see. I like what you do in the investigation. You gain people’s trust immediately and they give you good intel.”
“I guess,” Ellen said, folding her arms on the table, “I’m learning to trust you, Jim. I was awake until 3:00 a.m. thinking and feeling through that kiss we shared. I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted a lot more than that from you, but I’m afraid to go there. At least so far.”
“I felt the same way.”
“Thanks for not rushing it.”
“I’m trying to learn to read signals,” he told her wryly. “Men aren’t very good at things like that. I’m trying to clean up my Neanderthal act.”
Ellen laughed and gave him a broad smile. Those gold flecks were dancing in the depths of her green eyes, he noted. Jim wanted to drown in her gaze like a lovesick puppy, but knew he couldn’t.
“You’ve never been a Neanderthal.”
“Phew! That’s a relief.”
Ellen smiled gently. “I’m not sorry, Jim.”
He picked up his Reuben sandwich and gave her a twisted grin. Cochrane was going to enjoy this moment alone with her. There was an interview that afternoon, and another scheduled tomorrow afternoon with Lieutenant Chuck Daily, a Top Gun instructor. Would this investigation never end? He wanted desperately to figure out why Susan had killed herself. And then he wanted time alone with Ellen to explore this whole new world that had suddenly opened up for them.
July 11
“WHAT DO TEDDY BEARS MEAN?” Cochrane asked Ellen as they waited for their next interviewee, Lieutenant Chuck Daily.
“In a symbolic sense?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“What’s this? The pragmatic attorney is actually going to look at something outside his own lens of reality?” She glowed inwardly over his asking her such a question. This was her bread and butter.
“Come on, Ellen, be kind to this poor ole country bumpkin, will you?” For a second night Cochrane hadn’t slept—this time due to torrid dreams of making long, slow, delicious love to Ellen. He woke up more than once, finally took a cold shower at 3:00 a.m. and then finally fell asleep.
With a laugh, Ellen said, “Bears can represent many things. From a Jungian standpoint, it’s important to ask what it meant to the person.”
“Oh.”
“Every archetypal symbol has a general meaning, Jim, but it may have some unusual or unique meaning to the individual. For instance, you love pizza.”
His smile broadened. “No secret there.”
“Really. Pizza means something to you.”
“A full stomach.”
“What else does it mean?”
He sat back in the chair and laced his fingers across his belly. “Okay, I’ll get serious. It’s food. It’s salty and it tastes good. I love the cheese.”
“And what if I handed a creature from outer space that same pizza? What do you think his reaction would be?” Ellen asked.
“He might think it wasn’t food, perhaps.”
“Exactly. That maybe it was a sacred object, or a pretty symbol that certainly shouldn’t be eaten. Or a god or goddess that had suddenly appeared in front of him. If it was a pepperoni pizza, he might think the little round pieces of meat were eyes.”
“I see your point. And here I thought this was going to be easy.”
“Nice try, Mr. Cochrane. Therapy and psychology aren’t simple. And Susan Kane was complex, although on the surface she seems to present a consistent pattern of behavior.”
“Reckon you’re right,” Cochrane said grimly, sitting up and tinkering with the pens and pencils near his laptop. “Miss Perfect Role Model. Miss Perfect.”
“Why the sudden interest in teddy bear symbology?” Ellen prodded.
His brow furrowed. “I woke up dreaming about Susan again yesterday morning. After our kiss, I wasn’t sleeping too well. I got up, took a cold shower and went to bed. It was then that I had this dream.” He wasn’t going to tell her about the other dreams he’d had. Not a chance.
“A second dream about Susan?” Ellen turned in her chair, alert.
“I knew you’d jump on this like a duck jumps on a june bug. Certain word combinations are triggers for a therapist. ‘I had a dream’ is like manna from heaven for you.” He held up his hand and laughed.
She grinned. “Guilty as charged. Spill it, Jim. In your first dream, she came to you and asked for help without being able to speak.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you about it in the first place,” he said, his tone grumpy. “In this second dream, I saw Susan appear out of a light mist or fog. She was wearing chains around her shoulders and upper arms. They were wrapped around her neck, too. She wore a flowing lavender gown. The chains were so tight around her throat I reckon she couldn’t speak. All I could hear was her rasping and trying to say something. Then she raised her hands in front of her so I could look at them. I saw red marks on her right wrist, the same ones that Jillson told us about yesterday morning.” He raised his brows and held Ellen’s gaze. “That was it. I woke up.”
“Wow! That’s synchronicity! You dreamed of those red marks before Jillson told us about them! That is really interesting.”
He held up one hand. “Calm down, gal, will you? I knew you’d be over the moon about this.”
“Those red marks on her wrist really do mean something, then. Oh, don’t go giving me that look of yours. I know you think I’m not being rational.”
“Oh, you’re rational,” he said, suppressing a smile. “But what does it mean? The dream didn’t give me any answers. Just more questions.”
“Chains around her throat and upper body. What would that mean to you?”
“She’s tied up or trapped in some situation?”
“And they were wrapped around her throat to stop her from talking.”
“Yeah, real tight.”
“Did the chains look old or new?”
“I didn’t really notice.” Jim sat back and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he opened them and said, “I think they were old and rusty. Maybe even antique looking.”
“Hmm, it could mean the chains were from some event earlier in her life. Rust could equate with the past. If the chains had a shiny metallic look that would suggest they were from the present, possibly, not from her childhood.”
“I’m more interested in that red mark I saw on her wrist. To hell with how old the chains were.”
Ignoring his sarcasm, Ellen said, “What was Susan’s expression when she appeared in your dream?”
“Desperate. Her mouth was contorted—in fact, her whole face was. Sort of like The Scream by that painter in Norway? Everything about her seemed misshapen and pulled out of proportion.”
With a shake of her head, Ellen said, “Let me feel my way through this dream in a symbolic sense. Maybe something will jump out at me later.”
“All I got out of it was a bad night’s sleep.”