Saving Amber - Zoe Dawson Page 0,34
else you think might be helpful. I’d also like to speak with anyone who knew him or worked with him.”
“I will compile a list for you and also get his records.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She started to rise, and Tristan said, “Amber…”
She glanced at him and it was clear to her from the strained look on his face that he wanted to go with her. She put her hand on his arm.
“Do you want to speak to them?”
He nodded. “Yes. I would.”
“All right. If that’s okay with the colonel, let me interview them before you speak to them. This is going to be hard enough on them and I’m sure what you have to say is going to be emotional.”
He rose as she did and held his eyes, which were a deep well of meaning.
She walked out of the colonel’s office and entered the conference room. A middle-aged man was sitting at the table, looking as if he’d been through his own minefield. He eyes were moist, and his face showed the devastation of losing a son.
James’s mother sat with her hands in her lap. She appeared dry-eyed but by no means unaffected by the loss of her son. She looked up when Amber came in.
Amber already had her badge in her hand, reaching out with the other one. Mrs. Connelly rose and glanced at the badge and clasped Amber’s hand strongly.
“Special Agent Amber Dalton, NCIS. I am investigating your son’s death. Could I please have a few words with you about James?”
Mrs. Connelly said, “Yes, of course.” She turned to her husband and reached out her hand to set it against his shoulder.
He lifted his devastated eyes to Amber’s, and she tried to muster all the compassion that was now clogging her chest.
“I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.” Tucking her badge into her back pocket, Amber sat down in one of the chairs. “Did James mention anything to you that was out of the ordinary here on base? In his personal life?”
“No, he said it was awesome. His instructor. Sergeant Tristan…”
“Michaels.”
“Yes, him. James said he was the best instructor he’d ever had. He was learning a ton and he would be able to take so many practical things that he’d learned back into the field. James didn’t mention anything to us about any problems either on base or in his personal life, he was very popular with everyone.”
“If you think of anything that could help, please contact me.”
They both nodded.
“Speaking of Sergeant Michaels, he is outside waiting in the colonel’s office. He would like to have a word with you before you leave.”
“That would be fine.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Connelly, did James ever mention that he was unhappy with the service?”
Mr. Connelly startled, and his eyes focused then narrowed. He frowned. “What are you saying?” he growled.
“Was there a chance that James could have gone AWOL?”
Mr. Connelly stood. The chair hit the back wall. His fists clenched and he shouted, “No! James would never desert! He was dedicated to the corps! He was…he was…”
He covered his face and sat down heavily in the chair. His wife leaned over and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. She looked at Amber and there were tears in her eyes.
“Agent Dalton,” she said, her voice thick, “I…we understand that you are asking us hard questions. But the answer to this one is easy. James loved the service. He was going to make it his career. Both my husband and my brother Rick served, and James was very proud of them. He would never have gone AWOL. Never. He would have died before he would even think that.”
Amber had to tamp down the sympathy and emotion she was feeling. This was about getting information about James so she could solve the mystery of his death. Give these people closure. “I know this is difficult, but I have to ask these questions. The more information I have, the more I can understand about what happened to James.”
“James was…oh, God…maybe about six when my husband came back from his tour of service. We were there when he got off the plane and as soon as he saw him, James stood to attention and saluted. He said, ‘Welcome home, sir.’”
The soft sound of Mr. Connelly’s grief tied Amber’s stomach up in knots.
“He said, ‘Daddy, I want to be just like you.’ And my husband said, ‘A soldier?’”
Mr. Connelly raised his head, the grief and loss for his son streaming down his face, and his voice