asleep.”
“A Navy doc with a sarcastic sense of humor, nice,” Hemingway said. Doc Lattimore laughed. “Thanks for looking out for us.”
On the way out, Hemingway swabbed his groin with A&D ointment and pulled on a penis sock to help with sand and chafing. He left through a side door where two brown shirts waited to disinfect his feet and apply a topical silicone gel. Next to the picnic table was a line of milk crates. Hemingway found his and got dressed.
He made his way around the corner, and Vile was there grinning. “All cozy and dry?” he said with a running hose in his hand and an evil grin. He sure lived up to his name.
Wet again, Hemingway and the class were back on the beach fulfilling the BUD/S trifecta adding in sand and cold.
Shea came through the door at the covert Grove base. She headed straight into their offices.
“So Manning had a juvie record?” Shea asked immediately.
“Yeah, the DNA popped, and we had to dig to find it and get a court order to unseal it, but his DNA is the only one present and the only match.”
“Not Wilson?” Shea mused, her eyes narrowing.
“No. There’s no evidence Wilson was involved. His alibi stands firm. He was on watch duty.”
Something in Shea’s brain just wouldn’t accept that answer. Wilson was involved. She would stake her life on it. But, at this point, she would have to let it go.
“Where is he?”
“At the Woodshed waiting to be questioned.”
Shea started for the door, and Mak grabbed her arm. “You can’t be involved. We need to keep your cover intact.”
“Let me watch.”
Mak looked over at Griff, and he nodded his head. They drove over to the other side of the Grove and stopped in front of the Woodshed. Inside, Griff and Mak headed for the interrogation room where Manning was sitting at a small table. She could see and hear everything from the monitor. Griff and Mak wore earpieces in case Shea had questions.
Shea watched as the door opened and the two agents entered. Mak sat down at the table, but Griff stood near the door with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Manning. It was meant to unnerve him, but it didn’t seem to have an effect on Manning. He slouched back and eyed them not saying a word.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“I haven’t got a clue. I’m tired and ragged out from Hell Week, so this better be good.”
“You didn’t go through Hell Week,” Mak said with just enough disdain to prod at him.
His eyes narrowed, flaring with anger, but then he got himself under control. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”
“Do you want to know why you’re here?”
He leaned his elbows on the table. “That would be good, then I can get back to my rack.”
“We found your DNA under Seaman Craig Hennessey’s fingernails. Your blood on his knuckles.”
“So, we fought. He was a loser, and I kicked his ass. So what?”
Mak leaned forward and opened the folder with pictures of Craig. “He was beaten and strangled. Murdered.”
Manning’s eyes flicked down to the photos then back up at Mak.
“Did you do this, Walter?”
“I didn’t kill him.”
Griff surged off the wall to Manning and pushed his head down, making him look at the dead man. “Did you kill Craig Hennessey?”
Manning wanted to throw him off. Shea could see it in every line of his body, but his self-discipline kept him stationary.
“No!” He clenched his jaw at what looked like a punishing hold. “I was in my rack. You can ask any of my roommates.”
Shea knew as well as Griff and Mak that all of Manning’s roommates were on Shea’s list as possible members of NWO. They had covered their tracks well. Manning’s DNA and his bloody knuckles could all be explained away. Wilson conveniently had watch duty where several men saw him, but Shea would bet a month’s pay, Wilson had been involved in Hennessey’s death too. They had no probable cause to arrest Manning or Wilson. Manning knew it, and he was playing it out.
“What do you have planned, you little weasel?” Shea asked as Griff let him go.
“I have a cracked rib, you asshole.” Manning said, clutching his side. “I had to medical DOR, but Hennessey was a no-load, boat-ducking crybaby. I didn’t have a thing to do with his death, and you can’t prove I did. DNA or not.”
The only bright side of this whole scenario was that Wilson’s group of buddies were dwindling down to only