Chapter 13, 14 & 15

Tuesday, 20 March

Ashley always called Jason the first night she was away. Now, several days later and past midnight, she still hadn't called him. She could imagine how pissed off and worried he was.

After some deliberation, she forced herself to get out of bed, throw on a pair of sweats and a coat, and reluctantly leave the warmth of the barracks for an exterior phone booth near the post entrance. She didn’t want to chance anyone hearing her talk about the case on the pay phone down the hall.

She cut through the cold air double-time to the phone booth, where her numbing fingers fumbled with the German change she had dropped onto the small metal counter.

“I was wondering if you were ever gonna call,” Jason said, his husky voice sounding groggy.

He was stretched out on the floor in their living room, his head leaning back on the couch, phone cradled against his scratchy chin. Not caring if he sounded like a pansy, he told her how much he missed her.

“I’m pretty used to it by now, Ash. It’s just, you know, I miss you,” he confided.

Ashley had braced herself to be yelled at, so she was relieved he was being kind, but she couldn’t immediately shake off her defensive mood.

“Don’t make me feel more guilty than I already am, Jason,” she snapped, angry with him for no reason at all, although she knew her response was out of her own guilt and neglect.

She could hear her minutes loudly clicking away inside the German phone. She tossed more coins onto the counter, ready to shove them down the phone's slotted throat.

“Do you know when you’re coming home?” he asked.

“Soon. A few days perhaps,” she said, trying to sound optimistic.

Ashley leaned against the filthy glass, silently cursing the frigid midnight air that was beginning to make her fingers ache as she gripped the phone. Her only relief with the chill was that she didn’t have to breathe in the faint smell of urine that would have undoubtedly made her sick in humid heat. She couldn’t believe grown men didn’t have more pride.

“So, how’s the Case of the Mysterious Lesbos going?” he joked. “Are you getting close to nabbing your woman?”

“You’re so funny,” she laughed. “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“I can’t afford to lose it now. It’s all I’ve got. So, what’s your suspect like? Do you think it’s going to be a slam dunk case?”

“I don’t think so,” she sighed. “You know how with some people you can just tell if they're gay or not? With her I can’t, so it’s not like it’s stamped on her forehead. But I think I discovered my first clue today.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, after practice I noticed a pink triangle on the back of her car. I read about the triangle in a gay book I bought at a women's bookstore in Nuremberg.”

“What the hell does a pink triangle mean?” he asked.

“It’s a gay symbol the Nazis used in concentration camps to mark homosexuals, like the Star of David labeled Jews.”

“That's more than I need to know. Just don’t go finding out more than you need to know, Dick Tracy,” he quipped.

“Trust me, I won't,” she said.

“Good. You know how much I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too. I’ll be home soon, then you can occupy my every spare moment. I really miss home.”

He swallowed the urge to tell her that what he was fucking tired of her job. Her move to Ft. Polk was fast approaching. Too fast. Only three weeks away, and he was growing resentful of her being gone. But he knew angry words would only make her hang up on him. He didn’t want to end the conversation like that.

Jason dreaded being a bachelor again, of coming home every night to an empty shell of a place. He was going to miss her warm body at night, and the aroma of coffee tantalizing his sense of smell each morning, and even her bras that hung on the shower curtain rod.

Those things he knew he could get used to. What really got to him, and he tried not to think too much about it, was that once Ashley got on that plane there was no turning back. He instinctively knew he would never see her again.

Jason now understood why his civilian friends were so pessimistic about military women, to the point of seeming heartless.

“She’s in the Army. What did you expect? You think your relationship will be any different?” His friend was just trying to reason with him.

He hoped their relationship would be different. He was ready to settle down now, live a comfortable life like his parents, who recently celebrated 41 years of marriage. Now he simply nods his head and agrees with his buddies when they voice their anti-commitment-to-military-women opinions. It’s easier that way, and it’s reality.

“Well, I’d better let you go. You have to save all your energy for your girlfriend,” he said sarcastically. He instantly regretted the harsh statement, but he couldn't help it.

“You know, Jason, this isn’t a barrel of fun for me, either,” she snapped. “At least you’re home, hanging out with your real friends. I’m stuck here playing this disgusting lesbo role. Me! Of all people! You know I have few women friends as it is. So does it sound like I’m having a fucking great time? Does it?”

“No,” he answered.

“All right then. Please be a little supportive, okay?” she pleaded. “This is hard on me, too.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Jason begrudgingly apologized.

“Time for an attitude adjustment,” he said playfully. “I’m sorry for being such a selfish asshole. I’m just tired of all this bullshit, that’s all. Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” she whispered. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

In all her anguish, Ashley ignored the cold and slowly walked back to the barracks. For the first time in years she actually felt like crying. She wanted to scream, to let out all her anxieties, to sob uncontrollably in the still of the night. But she couldn’t because she didn’t know how.

It was nearly 0100 hours when she finally fell onto her bunk in complete exhaustion. She laid awake for another hour, thinking of Jason, about how hard this must be for him, about what a genuine nice guy he was, about how much she was hurting him.

She loved him. She knew that much. But for some reason she just didn’t want to marry him. She tried hard to come up with one good reason why she shouldn’t marry him. She just didn’t want to. She felt especially guilty that she wasn’t home with him now, giving him whatever she had left to give. But here she was, playing detective with a bunch of queers.

Emotionally spent, she burrowed herself into the covers, curled up in a fetal position and closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t have a nightmare tonight.

Her last thought before eventually losing consciousness was wondering how she could make things easier for herself here. I’m just gonna have to accept this role. To accept them as they are. To make myself be known to them.

And to know one, she deduced, she’d have to become one.

***

Ashley arrived to practice early. She was sitting in her car, dreading the rest of the evening, when the Mustang with the pink triangle pulled into the parking lot and skidded to a stop.

Her suspect and the driver of the car emerged from a thick cloud of dust. Ashley assumed the other woman, the driver, was her lover. She had watched her sitting in the stands yesterday, among several other women, and one lone man, all braving the cold to watch their friends or lovers play ball.

Ashley waited for them to pass her car before scooting out of her seat. She didn't want her suspect to really acknowledge her, not yet. They both walked past her in silence.

Cynthia carried a blanket in one hand and a lawn chair in the other. Ashley tried to imagine them together, in a passionate embrace, but the image was revolting. They just didn’t match. She didn’t understand what Mindy saw in the aging, overweight woman. But then again, she had a relatively attractive friend who dated a man with a beer gut and hairy back. Sometimes life didn’t make sense.

“Hey. I’ll be your partner for warm-up,” Dawn said as she placed a ball in Ashley’s glove. “So, what’d you do last night, Ashley?”

“Nothing much. A little reading,” she answered.

“Really? What are you reading?”

“A history book. Pretty boring, really. It put me right to sleep.”

“What’s it about? I love history,” Dawn exclaimed.

“It’s about Germany back in the Hitler days. Concentration camps and all that.”

“Interesting. I went to the Dachau Concentration Camp last year and was appalled at the atrocities that happened back then. Gory pictures of bodies piled on top of each other. It was pretty morbid. They say you can still smell the stench of death on a hot day. But I didn’t smell anything. Have you ever been to a concentration camp?” Dawn asked.

“No. Maybe someday. I figure since I’m here I might as well learn about the culture. You know, take advantage of everything while I can.”

Dawn nodded in agreement. “That’s what I think, too. What unit are you in?” Dawn asked as she threw the ball to Ashley.

Although she could have stopped the oncoming ball from sailing over head, Ashley let it pass her by. She didn’t want a public discourse on her whereabouts just yet. She figured she’d handle the questions one on one, so she slowly walked to where the ball had rolled, with no intentions of answering any other probing inquiries.

She threw the ball back. “Wow, I’m really out of shape. Must be nice to be fit,” Ashley said.

“Yeah, must really be nice,” Mindy blurted out. “She always gets a perfect PT score!”

Dawn gave her an annoyed look. Ashley noted an underlying dislike between Mindy and Dawn.

“Okay, girls, hit the field,” Brad ordered as he walked to home plate. “Everyone take the same positions as yesterday. Misha, go to second. Shirley and Ashley, sit it out a minute.”

She sat on the bench and watched Mindy scoop up grounder after grounder. She was quick for her height, and charged the ball with no fear. Ashley continued to be impressed. After only 15 minutes into practice, Brad sent her to right field. She missed most of the balls that came to her, but caught a few this time.

By the end of practice sweat dripped down her back. And for the first time since she had tried on Hancock’s glove, she felt a tinge of excitement at playing the sport, a feeling she honestly thought would never happen.

Before Brad dismissed everyone after practice, he lifted the lid from a cooler he had carried to the bleachers. He pulled out a can of Bud Light from a bed of ice.

“Consider this a symbol of inspiration to this season,” he grinned as he tossed a can to each of his players. “I predict a winning season, but it won’t come without hard practice and commitment from you guys.”

Dawn smiled at Ashley and lifted her can in a gesture of a toast. She then walked over to the bleachers and sat next to her.

Mindy nudged Cynthia, prompting her to look at Dawn in pick-up mode.

Cynthia stole a look at them, then shook her head in disbelief. “No, I don’t see it. I think the girl is as straight as an arrow. Look at her, Min. She’s as nervous as a private on the rifle range for the first time.

“I bet she hasn’t a clue about Dawn’s intentions,” she added. “I just hope Dawn doesn’t overstep her bounds and scare the poor thing out of her wits.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Mindy frowned.

“Fun and ignorance don’t mix in my book. Dawn would be stupid to go after something that's not for sure, if you know what I mean.”

“Girl, you have to lighten up,” Mindy warily said. “Not everyone is out to get us.”

“Maybe not, but we shouldn't take any chances. We've got too much invested in this God-forsaken army, and I would never let a pretty face jeopardize everything.”

“Who's jeopardizing anything? She’s just sitting next to her. Anyway, let Dawn worry about herself.

“Besides,” Mindy added, “Dawn doesn’t have a chance.”

Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. “I guess you’re right.”

Mindy took a final sip of her beer and tossed the can into the trash. “Well, I’m outta here. Let’s go to the NCO Club. Who’s game?”

“One drink,” agreed Mary as she removed her catcher’s gear. “Tina’s waiting for me back at the barracks.”

“We’re in,” called out Tammy, with Jessica tagging close behind.

“Would you like to go with us, Ashley?” Dawn asked.

As much as she didn’t want to, Ashley knew she didn’t have a choice but to go. It was a perfect opportunity to mingle with the whole lot of them. She was glad they were at least going to the NCO Club, a neutral place where she would feel more comfortable.

Dawn walked with Ashley to the parking lot. Ashley, in turn, felt her personal space invaded and quickened her step in an effort to get it back. Dawn was beginning to irritate the hell out of her.

Ashley had seen this behavior before, with men. She recognized the same hungry look in their eyes, the same sappy politeness. Ashley figured that with a little flirtatious goading at the NCO Club tonight, she might be able to obtain the incriminating information she needed. If all went well, she could wrap up this undercover gig and be home by the weekend.

Dawn walked her to her car and waited until Ashley was settled in her seat, then kindly shut the door for her.

“See you two there,” Mindy called out to them as she and Cynthia walked past Ashley’s car in the parking lot.

You two? Ashley was livid. She wondered what the hell that was supposed to mean. The thought of anyone coupling her with the amazon upset her. She wished she could make it perfectly clear that she was a heterosexual woman, and should be treated accordingly.

"Drive safely," Dawn said.

Ashley let out a heavy sigh when Dawn finally walked away. Her head leaned back against the head rest, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds to meditate in an attempt to prepare herself for the first public outing with her lesbian suspects.

She was starting to understand what Hancock meant about weeding homosexuals out of the Army; that it was essential to military readiness and troop morale. She felt like she was being actively recruited, which, ironically, is exactly what she was there for. She had to stop these aggressors before they sniffed out other prey.

She angrily gripped the steering wheel as she glared at Dawn’s baby blue Benz cruising down the street in front of her. Rage consumed her as she thought of having to sit with them, in public. I’ll never pull this off, she thought, as she pulled into the NCO Club parking lot. This is crazy, crazy, crazy.

Embarrassment consumed Ashley as she walked into the premises of a military establishment with a bunch of alleged dykes. Of all the things she had done in her career, or imagined herself doing, this was never one of them. She reminded herself that to know one you have to be one. But it was hard.

She hoped no one noticed them as they snaked their way through several empty tables, choosing a large round table in the back corner of the dimly-lit room. Ashley became even more irritated when they loudly pulled their chairs out from under the table, the wooden legs scraping the hard floor like nails on a chalkboard, attracting the attention of all half a dozen people in the place.

After they noisily settled in, a waitress casually took their order and returned with two pitchers of beer and a bowl of pretzels.

Ashley avoided eye contact with the waitress, afraid she would silently question why she was with this seedy bunch. She felt like a fish out of water. A swan among ugly ducklings. A saint among sinners.

Not one to drink on the job, Ashley decided right then and there that she earned the right to break the rules. She needed something to calm her nerves, so she flagged down the waitress and ordered a shot of tequila. When her shot arrived, she downed it and ordered another.

“Holy crap,” Tammy whispered to Jessica. “That girl's drinking tequila on a weeknight.”

“Maybe she's not the perfect little waif we thought she was,” Jessica whispered back.

When Ashley pushed her second empty shot glass from her, she noticed the whole table staring at her.

“Um, I’ve been in a dry zone for a long time. On the Czech border,” she explained. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to wind down like this.”

The women smiled and shook their heads like they understood perfectly, and continued their conversations.

“You were on the Czech border? I spent a week on the border last year with a Cav unit. My newspaper dedicated a whole issue to the U.S. military border patrol. Where were you located?” Mindy asked her from across the table.

“A tiny post up north, in another division. Not a lot of pleasant memories,” Ashley explained. “I’m just glad it’s over. I really want to forget I was ever there,” she added.

“I don’t blame you. What unit are you in now? Can you remember that?” Cynthia asked.

“I’m a clerk typist in an aviation unit at Katterbach Kasern. As you probably know, Katterbach doesn’t have a post softball team, so I decided I’d give this team a try. I’m hoping to make a few friends. That’s why I’m here,” Ashley said

“I bet I know what you guys are thinking,” Ashley added. The calming liquid of alcohol was now flowing through her veins, making her more bold.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Cynthia asked.

“That I’d be a better cheerleader than a player. But I thought, what the hell? I’m not getting any younger. If I’m cut, I’m cut, but at least I tried. Right?”

“That’s right,” Mindy agreed. She held up her glass in a toast. “To trying.”

Ashley toasted with her empty shot glass, then ordered a straight coke.

“Where you from?” Mindy asked.

“Ohio. And you?”

“Arizona. So you can imagine how this cold weather is getting to me? It’s probably in the 80s back home.”

“The weather here is exactly like in Ohio, and I never liked Ohio weather, except I love snow and a white Christmas. Do you put presents under palm trees?” Ashley joked.

“I never have, but it's a great idea,” Mindy laughed.

Dawn, looking bored as she played with her drink coaster, grew impatient as she listened to Mindy and Ashley’s continual banter. She strained to listen to their conversation over the loud juke box music. This thoroughly amused Cynthia, who watched Dawn turn green with jealousy.

“Hey, Dawn, you still single?” Cynthia asked.

Cynthia couldn’t help it. She had been watching Dawn stare at Mindy and Ashley for more than 10 minutes now. They were obviously enjoying their conversation, and when it looked like Dawn was going to butt in, Cynthia figured the least she could do was stop the intrusion. She could tell Mindy was attempting to get to know the straight chick.

“Definitely single. Still single yourself, Cynthia?”

“Yep,” Cynthia replied.

Both women gave weak smiles.

Cynthia sat back and remained silently skeptical as she watched Mindy and Ashley talk on and on about stupid shit. She was glad Mindy was having a good time. She hadn’t seen that happen in a long while, though she couldn’t tell if she was flirting with the girl or just being nice. She hoped it was the latter, since she wasn't quite sure if she could trust Ashley.

She could still remember how happy she was the last time Mindy brought someone home. Cindi Strickland was nice and funny. They had met at The Open Pit, a lesbian bar in Mannheim, Germany.

Mindy and Cindi had dated for only two months when the phone calls suddenly ceased. Cindi never returned her messages. It was as if she had vanished. Mindy didn’t say too much about being dumped, since she was still in love with Kim. Then there was the distance between them. Strickland was stationed about 90 minutes away. The phone calls and benzine bills were expensive.

Cynthia was surprised, and a little dismayed, that Mindy and Ashly were hitting it off. Cynthia didn't like her from the start. There was something about her.

“Do you play pool?” Mindy asked Ashley.

“As a matter of fact I do. Finally, something I’m good at,” Ashley commented as she pushed her chair back and stood up.

They both grabbed their drinks and excused themselves, leaving Dawn and Cynthia facing each other with nothing to good to say about it.

“I can’t believe that roommate of yours,” Dawn finally said, not being able to keep her mouth shut about the situation any longer. “Just yesterday she was telling me how she hoped the coach kicked her off the team. And now she’s, well, she's practically up her ass."

"They're playing pool," Cynthia said in her roommate's defense. “I get the feeling you don’t approve. You know what? Who cares? I mean, look at that chick. Does she look available to the likes of us? I don't think so."

“Seems to me your roommate is making herself available to her."

"They’re not screwing on the pool table, for God's sake!" Cynthia shot back.

Dawn was about to make a nasty rebuttal but changed her mind. She shook her head in frustration and looked away.

"Listen, Dawn, I don't mean to be a bitch. I'm just saying Mindy's allowed to have a little harmless fun. I think she knows better. Mindy's smarter than that. I know for a fact she doesn't want to get involved with anyone at this point.”

Then Cynthia whispered, “Personally, I think both of you are making fools of yourselves. Don’t act like you’re not interested. The woman, in my humble opinion, is as straight as they come. My gaydar isn’t going off, Dawn. So what if she’s a looker? It takes two to tango.”

“Who says I’m interested? I was just being nice. Why is everything I do blown out of proportion?”

Cynthia rolled her eyes, wondering if Dawn was kidding herself.

Cynthia turned around and focused on Ashley and Mindy at the pool table. They were laughing hysterically. Ashley held the pool stick behind her back while Mindy was lining the tip of the stick against the cue ball. She wanted to believe her own words, about Mindy not being interested in meeting someone, but she knew Mindy well enough to recognize a spark when it was about to ignite.

To any other observer in the bar, it looked like two good friends having a good time. But to Cynthia, it looked a lot like trouble brewing. She truly wanted to be happy for her friend, if this is what she wanted, but for some reason she smelled a rat.

Wednesday, 21 March

Ashley lay in bed like a zombie. The last thing she wanted to do was move, which would exacerbate the slight headache that throbbed in her temples, and made worse by the early-morning sun forcing itself into her closed eyelids.

Ashley was scheduled to meet Mindy for lunch in just two hours, so she had no choice but to face the day, though she certainly didn’t feel much like eating. When she tried to raise her head, she cursed herself for letting her alcohol consumption get so out of hand. She regretted downing the tequila shots last night.

She stayed in bed a little while longer, feeling sick, wishing she could simply reach over to her bed stand, pick up the phone and call it off. But there was no bed stand, nor a phone. The nearest phone was hanging on a wall down the hall. She wished Jason were here to fetch her aspirin.

No matter how badly she felt, Ashley had to keep the noon luncheon date with Mindy. She wondered if Mindy felt like shit, too.

They both had drank too much last night; she remembered that much. But despite all the beer Mindy had consumed, she remained cleverly tight-lipped. Ashley was disappointed that even in her drunken state, Mindy didn't divulge a single bit of useful information that could be used against her. Not one slip of the tongue.

As much as Ashley tried to coax her into talking about her personal life, Mindy remained vague. When asked if she had a boyfriend, Mindy casually told her not for a while. When asked what her favorite bar was, she said some bar downtown, but she couldn't remember the name. She answered personal questions with one-line answers, never once indicating she had anything other than a normal life. Ashley knew when someone had something to hide, and Mindy clearly did.

She did discover one thing about her suspect, though; Mindy Sterling was quite funny. Was it the alcohol that made her likable? Would she be so funny sober? Ashley hoped not. She really didn’t want to like her. In fact, she hoped to dislike her so much that turning her in would be quite pleasurable. Wanting the arrest always made the job easier. But there was still time for Mindy to fuck up.

Ashley finally forced herself to sit up. She squinted as she peered out of the window, relieved to finally witness a cloudless blue sky. She noticed a few soldiers walking around without winter coats, and heard birds chirping from somewhere out there. The anticipation of feeling fresh spring air on her face lured her out of bed and into the shower.

She put on a crisply-starched camouflaged uniform that crackled when she moved. It felt good to feel the cold, hard fabric against her skin again. It had been a while since she wore a uniform. CID agents wear civilian clothes to the office.

A sudden feeling of dread swept over her as she slipped on her spit-shined boots. She realized she had little to report to her boss today. Although the investigation was only a few days old, he would expect something substantial, but she had nothing, really. Only a bumper sticker. She suspected it might be good enough to bring Cynthia in for questioning, but she had little confidence with the word might.

She dreaded the office call to him more than anything. Not only did she not have much to report; she had a slight hangover. Her thoughts were muddled, and she was thirsty. She wondered how alcoholics could live with such misery day after day, though she figured they got used to it. She didn’t understand how anyone could get used to feeling like shit all the time.

Hancock would want names, facts and confessions. All she had was a weak gut feeling. There just wasn’t enough evidence yet. She needed more. She wasn’t going to bring down an innocent woman without positive proof. He always told her that you don’t bust a drug dealer without the drugs being in their pocket. So, she wasn’t going to bust Mindy without the drugs being in her pocket.

She figured lunch with Mindy was a damn good start. Maybe she would have something to tell him after lunch. Yes, she would call him after lunch. She desperately hoped this lunch date would help speed things up. Though she didn’t get a confession last night, Ashley had felt Mindy wanting to open up to her; that a connection was forming. Once she earned her subject’s trust, she would go in for the kill.

Ashley looked forward to getting out of the barracks, already tiring of the small confines of her room. The 40-minute drive to Mindy’s office was enough to help the fog lift out of her head. For the first time this spring it was warm enough to drive with the heat off. The coolness definitely helped make her feel better.

She was also relieved to feel hunger, a good sign that the hangover was subsiding. She was glad she made lunch plans after all.

Ashley was going to be a few minutes late, but patiently cruised along. She noticed baby buds on the trees and tulips protruding from the ground. At that observance she was struck with a sad thought. By the time the tulips here were in full bloom, she'd be long gone, undoubtedly bitching about the muggy Louisiana heat.

Mindy's hand-scrawled directions on a napkin led her directly to the black wrought iron fence that surrounded the small post that housed the 1^st Armored Division Public Affairs Office.

She was nearly 10 minutes late when she turned into the entrance gate and flashed her ID card to the MP, who waved her through without even looking at it.

What if I was a terrorist? she thought. She didn't like that it was rather easy to enter too many U.S. military posts, like this one, just because she was a woman. It was as simple as that. Women spies and terrorists were infiltrating enemy territory all over the world because men rarely take them seriously. Ashley wondered why there weren't more terrorist attacks on U.S. military installations.

She glanced at the map and followed the landmarks: past the PX, the laundry mat, the enormous brick division headquarters, which was as large and impressive as Mindy had described it. It vaguely reminded her of Buckingham Palace. It was home to most of the single and unaccompanied soldiers assigned to the division headquarters, as well as the offices to the division’s commandant and his staff.

It wasn’t difficult to find her office, since the entire post was practically a professional baseball player’s throw from the front gate to the back exit. She figured what saved the post from absolute isolation was the bustling small town life that thrived right outside its barged-wire gate.

Not only was she having lunch with her suspect, but she was was going to see where she worked. Ashley planned to scan the office for clues, though she doubted Mindy would display anything gay-related on her desk. That would be downright stupid. She didn’t know what to look for, but she would know it if she saw it, because she always did.

Mindy apologized in advance that the Public Affairs Office wasn’t a grand place to visit. What once was a horse barn was now an office for journalists, photographers and broadcasters. The windows were barred, and the dropped ceiling was cracked and stained with large yellow rain spots.

“Over here,” echoed Mindy’s voice. “I have to finish this paragraph, then we can get out of this hell hole.”

Ashley followed the voice to the back corner of the room. Mindy, hidden from sight by two five-foot dividers, hovered over a computer, writing what seemed to Ashley about 100 words a second.

“Hey, no problem. Take your time,” Ashley said.

As Mindy typed, Ashley scanned her green metal desk. It was very cluttered, with several stacks of paper covering most of its surface. The only picture was of a Persian cat sleeping on a chair.

“Did you have a hard time finding it?” Mindy asked. “Could you even read my writing?”

Ashley laughed. “Once I was able to decipher the map, I had no problem. Actually, I’m late because I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, not because I got lost. That’s the last time I do that on a weeknight.”

“A drunkard’s last words,” Mindy teased as she stood up and grabbed her BDU hat.

“Tough morning, huh? I have a slight headache. What I really need now is to eat.”

“Me, too.”

"I just need to go, uh, freshen up a bit in the restroom. Wait here and I'll be back in a jiffy, okay?"

"Sure."

When she heard Mindy lock the bathroom door, she frantically searched for anything she could find on her desk. She sifted through stories and memos and handwritten notes. Nothing. Then she began quietly opening each drawer, her eyes searching for anything that could seem out of place in an office desk. She also reached underneath the desk drawers, a favorite spot to hide things, and felt around. Nothing.

She closed the drawers and backed off when she heard the toilet flush.

“You probably think I’m a real lush, don’t you?" Mindy said as they exited the office.

"I swear I don’t normally drink during the week. My only excuse is that I was happy to be out with friends. You know how it is. Spring fever,” Mindy explained as she ushered Ashley out the heavy front door.

She slammed it, then locked it. “Nice place, huh? I told you it was bad. We’re supposed to move across the street into a renovated building soon. But I doubt I’ll ever see the day. I’m getting pretty short,” Mindy said.

Ashley silently agreed it was a dump as she followed Mindy to her car. But her smile faded as she read several pro-feminist bumper stickers on the back bumper of the cherry red 1980 Pontiac Sunbird. Equal Writes, which she had to admit was pretty clever. Women are Natural Born Leaders: You’re Following One Now. And an upside-down black triangle.

Surprise, surprise. Ashley frowned as she waited for Mindy to unlock the passenger car door. She had hoped she was on a wild goose chase, but now she didn’t think so.

“I know a great place that makes the best Cordon Bleu you’ll ever experience in your life. It’s filled with tons of cheese and smothered in mushrooms. The real stuff,” Mindy exclaimed.

“That sounds great,” Ashley said, feeling extremely famished now.

Both women remained silent as Mindy pulled out of the gate. Ashley wondered how she was going to bring up the black triangle without sounding too probing, while Mindy hoped her new friend wasn’t as straight as she looked. They both didn’t seem willing to break the silence, though they didn’t know what to say to one another, anyway. They were strangers, after all.

Ashley started to worry what people seeing them together during lunch were going to think. It was a thought she never had before. Of all the times she had gone to lunch with women co-workers and friends in the past, she couldn’t ever recall feeling paranoid about anyone thinking they were lovers. She knew her discomfort was being ridiculously hyper-sensitive to the issue, but she couldn’t help it.

“Nice day, huh?” Ashley finally asked.

“Definitely! Practice tonight will be perfect,” Mindy said enthusiastically. “Warm enough to sweat, yet cool enough to have a good, hard workout. Just perfect. My hands have been stinging every time I hit the damn ball. I've always thought the start of the season should be delayed a month.”

“Not a bad idea,” Ashley said, not caring at all.

“Maybe it's because I'm from Arizona, but I hate cold weather, especially when I have to take photos with a freezing camera, with no gloves on! I don’t wear them half the time because I need to feel the shutter release button and change film and shit. It sucks!

“But everyone knows I hate winter,” she went on. “My boss knows I’m not as productive during the winter because I try to find indoor things to do stories on. But there are only so many office stories you can do.

“One day a few months ago I was complaining about how cold it was outside, like I normally do, and my boss gets this pissed-off look on his face and blurts out, ‘This is the Army, for God sakes! What do you want? War in the Bahamas?’ Damn that was funny! War in the Bahamas,” Mindy repeated as she continued to laugh at her own banter.

They were both laughing at Mindy’s weather story as they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Mindy was being extremely talkative, and for once Ashley wasn’t annoyed by that. They were still smiling when they walked into the crowded restaurant and took a booth next to a window.

“Is this good?” Mindy asked.

“Great.” And Ashley meant it. She instantly liked the place, with its red and white checkered table cloths; the white curtains draped the way her mother hung her kitchen curtains; and a framed oil painting of a mailman handing a woman a letter in an alley somewhere in a typical European small town. The letter was from a soldier during World War II, and she imagined that he wrote about how much he missed her. The painting portrayed a time of innocence before high divorce rates; before men weren’t afraid to write love letters; when women actually waited for their men to return from war, if they returned.

“Do you know German?” Mindy asked.

“The basics. I can order food,” Ashley told her.

“Well, don't worry. They speak English here.”

“How about you? Do you speak German?”

“I took it in college so I’m pretty fluent. But I still have a lot to learn. The different dialects throw me off a little,” Mindy said with a shrug.

“I bet,” Ashley said. “You say the Cordon Bleu is good here?”

“The best. It comes with fries, but you can substitute it for a salad if you’re into counting calories, which looks like you are,” Mindy said.

“Normally I watch what I eat, but today I don’t care. Can you order for me? I’ll have what you’re having. I’ll be right back.” Ashley grabbed her purse and headed for the restroom.

Mindy watched her walk away from the table, and let out a secret sigh. She knew one thing already; she couldn’t ignore the little pang of lust she felt every time she looked at her. She wanted to kick herself in the ass for feeling attracted to someone right before she left the country.

She gave the waitress their order and continued to contemplate the limited possibility of what could happen, or not happen. If Ashley was straight, then problem solved. It would be out of her hands. But if she wasn't...

She pretended not to notice as Ashley quietly slipped back into her seat.

“It shouldn’t be too much longer,” Mindy said.

Ashley offered a faint smile, thankful the restaurant was full of chatter and kitchen noise. Every table but two were filled with Americans in uniform, all happily devouring hardy lunches, not paying any attention to them. She was finally beginning to relax, and felt foolish for letting herself worry about what other people thought.

She reminded herself that she was on duty as a powerful figure in the investigation scene. Do your job, DeMarco, she told herself.

“So, how long have you been playing softball?” she asked Mindy.

“All my life. It comes with having older brothers. I couldn’t imagine not playing. In fact, when I joined up I made sure sports was a part of the package. What made you decide to start playing now, this late in life?”

“Call it silly, but, like I told you before, after being stuck on the border with all those chauvinist pigs, I actually listened to a suggestion from a guy in my company. He mentioned the softball team, and that it would be a good place to start making friends. So here I am.”

“How do you like it so far?”

“Honestly? I’m trying. As you can tell I’m not very good, and it doesn’t help that the team is great. I wasn’t warned of that little fact. I guess in time I’ll get the hang of it, if I last that long.”

Ashley paused, then added, “But it beats where I was last summer. All the guys wanted to date me because there were only two of us females on the post. I told them I was engaged. It worked most of the time.”

“Are you?” Mindy asked.

“Am I what?”

“Engaged.”

Ashley instinctively reached over and held her glass, searching for the right thing to say. She didn’t want to turn Mindy off by appearing to be committed and straight, but she didn’t want to seem available, either.

“Let’s just say there’s no marriage plans in my life right now,” she said.

“Oh? Is that good or bad?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can handle being alone just fine. I like to be able to do what I want, without someone telling me what to do, right? What about you?” Ashley asked.

“Single. I’m just getting over a long-distance thing. We were together for more than a year, which is a record for me. But they came down on orders and went back to the States. So here I am, single and getting used to it.”

They? Were there more than one? Ashley thought her use of the word they was odd.

She studied Mindy's face as she spoke. She seemed sad. Whoever they were, well, Ashley could tell it meant something. She watched Mindy stare out of the window, assuming she was remembering her lost loves.

Ashley believed the stereotype that gays were promiscuous, that sex was the core of their existence. But Mindy didn’t appear to be a sex monster. Ashley also wondered if she was talking about a man or woman, or more than one? She hated not being able to read between the lines.

She wondered if, in a year from now, she would remember Jason with that same kind of painful loss in her voice. Would she miss him this much? Perhaps. Her eyes fixed on the salt shaker shaped like a big dog with a Swiss beer barrel hanging from its neck.

When their meals came they grew silent as they politely picked at their veal. Now and then they stole quick glances at one another. Ashley wanted to ask about the triangle. Mindy wanted to ask her out for dinner. But they both stuck with small talk until the bill came. Mindy paid it. Ashley left the tip.

Mindy walked Ashley to her car after they arrived back at the Public Affairs Office. “See you at practice tonight,” she asked.

“Of course, though it might be my last one. I don’t know how much more of me the coach can take,” Ashley laughed. “Hey, thanks for meeting me for lunch. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Mindy smiled and waved as she watched Ashley pull away. It was too early to feel anything, but she couldn’t deny something was happening. She was glad a scheduled interview for the paper in 20 minutes would take her mind off of her new crush.

***

Ashley firmly knocked on Capt. Spring’s door. It was time to make that call to the office. She still didn’t have a shred of hard evidence to report, but Hancock had insisted she supply him with a daily verbal briefing.

Left alone in his office, she stared at the phone, not wanting to touch it, like it was poison, but she reluctantly reached for it and dialed.

“CID. Hancock speaking. This line is secure.”

“It’s me,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “How’s life on the range?”

“Smells like testosterone without a woman around here,” he joked.

“I believe that,” she laughed, relieved he was in a decent mood.

But her relief flew right out the window when he cleared his throat and said expectantly, “Well, got anything yet?”

Ashley picked up a pen from Spring’s desk and nervously tapped it against her leg. “I’m getting closer,” she told him.

“Closer is not there,” he said. “You’ve been undercover for days. I could have uncovered a mob ring in that amount of time. Play detective, Ash. Hell, they can’t be a harder shell to crack than any of the other low-life scum you’ve busted.”

“Well, in my defense, their first practice wasn’t until last night. So I’ve only been undercover for one night. Give me a break, Hancock,” she said defensively. “Why are you pushing me so hard on this one? I told you I’ll get you names, and I will. Patience, chief.

“And if you would have let me finish,” she added, “I would have told you that I just had lunch with Sergeant Sterling, my primary suspect. I’m on the right track, okay?”

“Sorry I ever doubted you. Hey, I know this is all new to you. I’m just under a lot of pressure, okay? I'm aware sex cases are the hardest to do. ”

“Actually, this one’s not hard enough,” she quipped.

Where did that idiotic joke come from, she thought. But out it came, and it was too late to take it back

Hancock busted out laughing. “That was actually funny, Ash. I can't believe that came out of your mouth! Very uncharacteristic of you. Is the case getting to you already?”

"Not really. I'm thinking like a sexual being. You told me to put myself in their place and play the part. See? I actually listen to you once in a while."

“But you’re thinking like a straight woman, with that crack. You’ll never fit in if you don’t change your mind frame, no matter how trivial the intent.”

“It was only a joke, Hancock. I’m very careful with everything I say when I’m with them. Believe me,” she said, getting defensive now.

Ashley was mindlessly rubbing her cheek, her finger tips feeling the heat of her scar as her face turned red with anger.

“Well, all right, chief. I think I’ve had enough laughs for one afternoon. I have work to do. Call ya tomorrow.”

"Roger that. Hey, I have confidence you'll get your man, Ash. Call me tomorrow. Out here."

Ashley cringed as she hung up the phone. Tomorrow. She wanted this case to be over today. That's all she wanted at this very moment.

Busting someone for illegal drugs was one thing, but for sexuality, well, it was weird. Ashley never imagined her job would be reduced to prying into the private sexual lives of women. This mission could be as limited as simply turning in suspected lesbians based on a simple comment or clue, or she could go so far as gathering evidence, like searching for love letters and sexual paraphernalia. She hoped they'd out themselves by their own admittance soon, before she had to look under mattresses and inside shoe boxes hidden in closets.

“Hey, you're not Captain Springs,” Josh said as he stood in the doorway. “You do look like a vision of beauty behind that desk, except you shouldn't look so glum.”

“How long have you been standing there?"

"Just a second, but that’s all it took to see something's bothering you. It's written all over your face,” he said.

“Everything’s just great,” she snapped. “I’m sorry, Josh. Long day, that's all.”

“You sure? I’m a good listener.”

"I'm sure you are,” she said, finally cracking a smile. “Hey, how ya doing anyway? Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Oh, I’ve been around,” he said as he led her toward the barrack’s front entrance. Josh opened the door and walked with her out to the front steps. She leaned against the railing. He sat on the steps.

“Looks like you could use some fresh air,” he smiled.

“I suppose.”

“How’s softball going? Did I help you out the other day? You did okay, for a girl, ya know,” he joked.

Ashley shot him a watch-your-mouth look, but he instantly disarmed her with his wide grin. She thought he was very handsome.

“Hey, my gloves are off,” he laughed. “I’m your new best friend, remember? Oh, I know what it is. You miss your man.”

Ashley sat down next to him on the top step, her eyes fixed on a group of male soldiers walking down the sidewalk. One of them boldly returned Ashley’s stare. She defiantly refused to look away.

“No, that’s not it. I can’t really talk about it. I’m just home sick, that’s all. I miss my family. I’m due for a leave.”

“Do you have a boyfriend, then?”

“I’m dating someone, but it’s not serious. Nothing I want to talk about, okay?”

“Sure, whatever. Listen, I know I’m a guy and all, but I want you to know if you ever need to vent, well, I have three sisters. Need I say more?”

“You have three sisters?” Ashley asked, sounding surprised. “Older or younger?”

“Both. I suffer from the middle-child syndrome. But I’ll tell you what, don’t let this baby face fool you. I understand women.”

“I bet you do,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “I underestimated you, Josh.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone does.”

“Well, I appreciate the concern, but I assure you I simply miss my family. I'll be going home on leave soon, okay Dr. Josh? Well, I have to get ready for practice,” she told him as she stood up.

“Sure. See ya later, alligator,” he said.

After she disappeared back into the barracks, Josh couldn’t help but wonder what her job was anyway. And why was she, a mere specialist new to the company, in Capt. Spring's office using his phone? Not even he would dare such an act.

***

Dark, threatening storm clouds were rapidly rolling in from the west, bringing with them a forceful wind that angrily whipped up a small sandstorm on the field. The temperature had dropped at least 20 degrees in the past hour, prompting many of the players to warm up in their jackets.

“This is ridiculous,” Dawn moaned. “It was so nice earlier. It’s got to be 30 degrees out here now. I hope the bastard don’t keep us out here long.”

Mindy was sitting in the grass, stretching her legs. “Stop your bitching,” she said. “But if even you have a coat on, I guess it’s cold.”

Dawn heard several players snicker. She, too, chuckled at Mindy’s callous dig, pretending she wasn’t hurt by her comment, but inside she was seething. How could she have been so stupid to ask her out? She felt like a fool now. Why don't people like me? she thought.

She figured they were just jealous. It was beyond her why everyone had a difficult time accepting her strong physique. If only they knew how hard she worked to get it. She spent two hours every night at the gym; sweating like a pig in the summer, trudging through snow drifts to get to the gym in the winter. She devoted six evenings a week to working out; following her own worn path through the small wooded area between the officer’s quarters and the post gym.

It seemed that nothing she ever did was good enough. She couldn’t figure out why women were such bitches.

Dawn thought her days of being harassed were behind her, now that she wasn’t fat anymore. When she was 18, a recruiter told her to lose 35 pounds before he would even write her name down as a prospect. Three months later she walked into his office 50 pounds thinner, losing nearly twice as much as he had requested. With a lot of help from little white pills and a stubby forefinger shoved down her throat, she quickly made the fat rolls disappear.

With further guidance from an army psychotherapist, she managed to replace pills with weights and fat with ridges. The only difference in the cruelty department now is that the name porky pig has been replaced by amazon. Forever the insults, she thought, as she shivered in her windbreaker.

However, Mindy wasn’t the usual offender. She could only guess why the sudden change in attitude. Dawn felt resentment well up inside of her as she watched Ashley and Mindy warm up together. She didn’t want them becoming friends. It just wasn’t fair.

Rain, or possibly snow, was imminent. The coach looked up at the dark gray clouds and predicted about 20 minutes of practice before the sky let loose.

“Okay, girls. Looks like a short practice,” he announced. “Let’s get in some good fielding before it hits. Take your usual positions. Everyone else can double up where I put you last night."

Ashley stood next to Nancy Trevor in right field. Neither one looked happy to be there. Brad routinely hit the ball from left to right. He hit one to Tammy, who took a step back, made a quick bad judgment call, then turned and ran like hell to catch up to the ball as it soared over her head. She chased it to the fence, quickly scooped it up and threw it bulls-eye to Mindy, her cut-off.

Tara Davis, in left center, braced herself for another rocket, but Brad hit it high in the air, where it lingered for a few seconds before it began its decent. She ran full speed ahead and stretched out her glove in mid-stride. The ball landed squarely in the pocket.

“Good catch, Tara,” Brad yelled out. Tara bypassed her cut-off and threw it clear to home plate.

Dawn readied herself for the play. Brad sent it flying in between right center and right field. Dawn, following the ball, brushed past Ashley, nearly knocking her to the ground, and dove about three feet into the air, trapping the ball snugly in her glove.

She held up the ball in celebration, imagining loud cheers from an invisible cheering section. Instead, she heard Mindy’s angry voice from the infield.

“Geez, Dawn! That was Ashley’s ball! You about killed her!”

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business,” Dawn shot back, angrily wiping grass and mud from the front of her jacket and sweat pants. “I called it.”

Mindy shook her head in disbelief.

“She ain’t worth it,” Shelly, the third baseman, whispered. “Forget about it. I don’t think she did it on purpose, Min. You know how she is, with all that testosterone she's shooting up at night.”

“Yeah, right,” Mindy snapped. “But I think she knew what she was doing, and I could care less that she could kick my ass from here to Berlin.”

“Yes, she could,” Shelly laughed as she smacked Mindy on the ass with her glove. “I’d visit you in the hospital.”

“Okay, okay. Enough of this shit,” Brad ordered. “It’s too early in the season for squabbling.”

Misha threw Brad the ball from second base. He hit another ball to Dawn, and watched with satisfaction as it sailed over her head.

Eat that, he thought, as he leaned on his bat with one hand, waiting patiently for the ball to return to home plate.

After practice Brad pulled Dawn and Ashley off to the side.

“I’m sorry, Brad,” Dawn muttered. “I really didn’t see her.”

“Well, open your eyes next time. I don’t want to see that happen again, or I’ll bench you for the first game. You could have injured the both of you. We’re a team, dammit, not individual superstars. Remember that.”

“Yes, coach,” Dawn said.

Then he looked at Ashley. “That doesn’t clear you, Ashley. That ball was closer to you. You should have called her off. That’s what calling the ball is all about.”

“Yes, sir,” she retorted, managing to refrain from telling him he could stick that bat right up his ass.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow,” he said, then turned and left them alone.

Dawn turned to Ashley. “I’m really sorry. It wasn’t because I didn’t think you could catch it. I saw it coming and I went for it. I really didn’t see you.”

“Forget it. I would have missed it anyway. It was a great catch,” Ashley admitted.

Dawn smiled widely. “Thanks. Hey, can I make up for my aggressiveness by buying you a drink at the Officer’s Club tonight?

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh, come on, Ashley. Just one drink. It’ll make me feel better,” she said.

The last thing Ashley wanted to do was spend another evening at a bar. She wanted to race back to the barracks to relax under a long, hot shower. Though she did need to eat something. She planned for takeout at the snack bar. But most of all she wanted to crawl into bed and catch up with the sleep she had lost the past few nights.

Ashley also knew this was exactly what the case needed. If there was one person she could get to open up, it was Dawn. It was a golden opportunity. She had no doubt in her military mind that with a little prodding she could get Dawn to spill her guts.

“Sure. But I can’t stay out long. Last night about killed me,” Ashley said.

“Great! And Ashley, I’m really sorry,” she whispered as she gently rested her hand on Ashley’s arm.

“I know you are,” she said, stepping away from Dawn’s touch.

Mindy approached Ashley’s car and asked her what she was doing this evening.

“I’m actually meeting Dawn out for a sorry for almost knocking you on your ass drink. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I have to be nice, and I am here to make friends, I suppose. So I guess I’ll have a coke, then go home and go to bed. What about you?”

“Catching something to eat at the snack bar and hitting the sack early. Well, you have fun tonight,” she said playfully.

Mindy couldn’t believe Ashley was actually going to the officer’s club with Dawn. I have to go home and reassess my feelings a bit. She can have Dawn, she angrily thought.

She watched Mindy walk to her car, then started her own and drove off.

Ashley was relieved to find the officer’s club nearly empty. It was still early, only 1930 hours.

Dawn stood at the bar waving a $10 bill to get the bartender’s attention, while Ashley plopped four quarters into the jukebox. Ignoring her own taste for music, she played five country and western songs. A little musical foreplay, she slyly thought as she pushed the buttons to songs she thought could make a cowboy cry. She personally hated country music but had heard Dawn mention at the NCO Club that she loved it. Her goal was to make Dawn feel as vulnerable as possible.

“You like country, too?” Dawn beamed when she returned with a beer and a Coke.

“Oh, sure. I like all kinds.”

“How long have you been in the army?” Dawn inquired.

“About three years. What about you?”

“Nine long years and counting. It's all I know. Hell, I joined when I was 18, to get away from my parents."

"Were they that bad?"

"They’re devout Christians. Need I say more? They wanted the perfect little girl to flaunt around the congregation. Pink dresses, Mother of Mary dolls for Christmas, and all that shit. But I loved climbing trees and playing tackle football with my friends. I mean, Mother of Mary dolls? Give me a break.”

This might be easier than I expected, Ashley thought. After Dawn had mentioned her parents, her demeanor changed from that of an amazon to a wounded little girl. Her eyes were sad now, almost melancholy. Ashley was surprised to witness this transformation so quickly. She hadn't even had a sip of her beer yet.

Ashley certainly understood how parents could trample all over their children’s self-esteem. Many of her suspects had a history of child abuse by one or both of their parents or other relatives. It was evident their past seemed to really screw them up good.

“What am I doing?” Dawn exclaimed. “I’m spilling my guts and we just got here! What a bore I am.” Dawn shook her head in a display of disappointment with herself, and chugged her glass of beer.

“It’s okay,” Ashley assured her. “It’s good to open up to a, a friend, now and then. I really don’t mind.”

“I appreciate that. I'm going to get another drink, if that’s all right with you,” Dawn said. She slid her chair back to get up.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll get it. I’ll be right back.”

Ashley took the empty glass from her number-two suspect, hoping it wouldn’t take but a few more to prompt her to open up.

As she stood at the bar, she thought about her own parents and how they had always supported her decisions, even though they didn't always approve. Even now she found peace with them, and could honestly say she was looking forward to seeing them soon.

Dawn tapped her foot to the music, letting a deep crooning voice soothe her conflicted soul. She closed her eyes, trying to envision them together. She imaged kissing her goodnight in the car. Then the sound of a beer bottle gently set on the table with a muted thud shattered the fantasy.

“You were saying you liked climbing trees,” Ashley said as she poured the beer into Dawn's glass. “How did your parents handle raising a little tomboy?”

“They didn’t. My father hated me playing with the neighborhood boys. One time, after he saw me coming out of the woods with a bunch of my friends, he actually forbid me to go outside for an entire week as punishment. It was the middle of summer! Can you believe that shit? He accused me of doing evil deeds, his favorite sin.

"My parents couldn’t get that I just wanted to play like a normal kid. Hell, I didn’t know anything about sex back then. I was only 14,” Dawn recalled as she reached for a handful of peanuts.

Ashley glanced down at Dawn’s strong hands as they ripped apart the hard shell of a peanut.

“What did you do?” Ashley asked, sounding sympathetic.

“I replaced fun with food. A lot of people don’t know this, but I was fat. I mean really fat. When I was old enough I went to a recruiter’s office and tried to sign up. He said I would have to lose a lot of weight before he would even talk to me. So I lost the weight and went back to his office demanding he sign me up. I left for basic training two days later. I was like, ‘fair riddance’ to my parents. I’m their only kid.”

“Wow,” Ashley murmured. “That’s terrible, about your parents, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, I got over it. I still send them cards on holidays, but I never go home to visit. If they couldn’t handle me then, they would never handle me now.”

Ashley leaned forward, sensing a confession might be near.

As much as she disliked Dawn, she still couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. How many of these sob stories has she heard over the years? She was well aware that many criminals were spawned from some kind of abuse. Horrible shit. Either their fathers were drunks, or their mothers abandoned them when they were children, or they were sexually abused by a family member.

It seemed criminals always had an excuse as to why they were how they were. It was never their fault. Their lawyers often used the defense that they are victims of society, and therefore should be given chance after chance.

These born-out-of-abuse cases hit Ashley the hardest. After each one she doubted she ever wanted children, knowing that the faults of parents are transmitted to their kids. Would she be a good mom? Just the thought of being completely responsible for someone else terrified her, even though she was raised by adoring parents.

Ashley glanced at her watch after successfully stifling a yawn. It was time to play shrink. “What do you mean? How are you now?”

Dawn hesitated for a few seconds, then just shrugged her shoulders. “An atheist.”

“Oh. That’s walking a totally different path than your parents,” she said as she reached out and lightly touched Dawn’s hand. “I feel bad for you.”

“Why do you care? I don’t need anyone feeling bad or sorry for me. Jesus, I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. Listen, I’m just PMSing, so I’m a little emotional now. That’s all. Everything’s fine.”

Ashley wanted to reach over, grab her shirt by the collar, and shake the truth out of her. She was growing tired of playing this fucked up game of cat and mouse. She wanted to come right out and demand to know if she was queer or not, but she knew that tactic was unrealistic.

She had heard of agents who routinely made a mockery of their code of ethics. She didn’t doubt reports that forced confessions ran much higher when the suspects were homosexuals. She once heard that two agents locked a gay man they were interrogating in a dark closet for hours. But more commonly they just threaten to tell their parents, as well as threaten them with long prison sentences and dishonorable discharges if they don't cooperate.

The CID motto is Do What Has to be Done. But Ashley had vowed in the beginning of her law enforcement career that she would be ethically fair to all of her suspects; if not for herself, then for her father, who was a good, honest police officer his entire career.

“I’m grateful you’re willing to listen to me babble about myself, but, well, I'm tired of talking about myself,” Dawn whispered as she suspiciously scanned the room for eavesdroppers, though the room was still fairly empty.

She took another drink. “I’ve said too much already.”

"That's how people get to know each other. You didn't tell me what you do in the army, or if you have a special person in your life." Ashley tried to sound nonchalant yet interested.

"Getting a little personal, aren't we? But if you really want to know, I'm a finance officer, and I'm single. What about you? Do you have someone special in your life?"

"I'm single."

They both smiled, though neither knew why.

"Well, I think I'm going to call it a night. I'm exhausted," Dawn finally said.

Ashley nodded her head, feigning that she understood, but she grew impatient with every passing moment. She wanted confirmation and she wanted it now. She was anxious to take claim to the first solid name on the list, so she could work on the next suspect, so she could go home to Jason as soon as Sunday, so she could be Ashley DeMarco again.

She was certain Dawn was gay, and that she could get it out of her with just one more beer.

"Are you sure? Would you like another? My treat. I'll have another drink with you." Ashley looked down at her empty mock rum and coke glass, which had been just coke.

She noticed Dawn's eyes appeared to be vacant, like she was in a blank state or something, so it didn't look like she was going to get much more out of her tonight, after all. She was so tired herself she could hardly think straight. But the more work she did now, the less she'd have to do later.

"No thanks. I really need to hit the sack. Thanks for letting me make it up to you. You're a good listener," Dawn said. She pushed the empty glass away from her and reached for her coat.

Ashley shrugged her shoulders and stood to put on her coat. She was so frustrated. She was so damn close.

I Can't Get No Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones was appropriate background music.

“Well, if you ever need to talk to someone,” Ashley told her, stepping away from her. "Will you be all right? Can you drive?”

“Sure. Three beers ain’t nothin’. I live on post, anyway, at the officer's quarters. Hey, I’m really sorry I was such a downer. I usually don’t talk about myself much. That wasn’t my intention. It’s just you’re so easy to talk to."

“Hey, what are friends for?” Ashley told her, pretending to be occupied with the buttons on her coat.

They walked out of the club together, leaving behind a bored waitress. Dawn followed Ashley to her car, then casually hung on the door as Ashley slipped into the driver’s seat.

“I had a good time. Hope we can do it again soon, but next time I won't talk about my fucked-up life so much. Drive carefully,” Dawn said as she gently shut the door.

God, she looks pathetic, Ashley thought, as she watched the outline of Dawn’s silhouetted figure wave goodbye in her rear view mirror. It was at that exact moment that, for the first time, she realized that maybe, just maybe, sexual preference wasn’t a choice for all people. How could it be if there was so much loneliness, so much to sacrifice, so very much to hide?

On her way back to post she wondered if Dawn would ever make amends with her parents. And would they accept her if they knew she was an atheist and a lesbian? After all this time, one would think they would want their daughter back. But Ashley knew that not every family was like her own.

She also wondered how her own parents would handle it if she told them she was a lesbian. She shuddered at the thought. She was certain they wouldn’t disown her, but how could they possibly respect her? Would the shame kill them? She, too, was their only child.

Ashley’s thoughts eventually drifted to Mindy. Did she have the same sad story to tell? Were all lesbians internally unhappy? She recalled Mindy’s playful eyes, her constant smile that sported a small dimple in her left cheek. Her laugh wasn’t tainted with fear, or insecurity or anger. The only indication of unhappiness appeared when she mentioned her recent break-up, a very normal reaction, indeed.

There was something about Mindy she liked. With that acknowledged, she felt a tiny pang of guilt, because she still had to turn her in, if the evidence was there, whether she liked her or not.

Thursday, 22 March

Ashley awoke to rain crashing against her bedroom window, and thunder roaring off in the distance. She was comforted by the lightening that hypnotically lit up her room like a disco ball. It was nearly 0800 hours, but the dark sky was deceiving. It felt like midnight.

It was the second major thunderstorm of the year. Warm air was competing with cold air, and she rooted the warm air on.

She closed her eyes and felt content as she listened to the faint claps of thunder rapidly moving off to the east. She was feeling groggy despite a decent night’s sleep for once. Then a smile slowly spread across her face when she realized practice would most likely be canceled.

Greatly relieved, Ashley glanced out of the window and watched a flood of water roll down the side of the street. She instinctively cringed when a passing car sent a small wave up and over the curb, soaking the legs of a soldier attempting to shield herself with a flimsy black umbrella. She couldn’t hear what she yelled to the driver, but Ashley was sure she called him a fucking asshole.

Tonight she wouldn’t have to pretend to be an athlete. Tonight, if Mindy agreed to meet her at an Irish pub in downtown Nuremberg for dinner, she would be in familiar territory, on her own turf, shooting pool and throwing darts.

Ashley was comfortable hanging out in bars. During a recent drug investigation, she had perched on the same bar stool for three consecutive nights, encouraging her male suspect to brag about his new BMW and expensive tastes. She pretended to be impressed, and on the second night she told him she'd do anything for money. He said he could help her out, and to meet her at the bar the next night.

That night, although she did have to remove his hand from her thigh more than once, he told her how stupid he thought his platoon sergeant was for not knowing he was high half the time (though it was his platoon sergeant who reported him in the first place), and who his biggest clients were. He finally asked her to make a run for him. Busted.

Ashley knew she was good at her job. She could act however she needed to act to gain her suspect's trust. Her favorite trick was to pretend she was drunk. She would secretly order virgin salty dogs or Rum and Cokes, an arrangement she would set up with the bartender early in the evening. If she didn’t trust the bartender, she would buy a non-alcoholic drink and a mixed drink at the same time, slyly abandoning her mixed drink on a table somewhere. No one ever knew the difference.

But acting like a drunk was one thing; pretending to be a lesbian was another.

Ashley frowned as she watched a male soldier sprint down the sidewalk, holding a Stars and Stripes newspaper over his head in a futile effort to stay dry. She thought how asinine it was that male soldiers weren’t allowed to carry umbrellas, as if shielding themselves made them lesser men.

She noticed the flight line across the street was nearly full of helicopters. Ashley wondered what pilots did on days like these? Do they play poker in a back room of the hangar? Do they sneak away to make love to their mistresses? Oh, how jaded she felt sometimes.

It didn't take long for Ashley to return to her glum state. There was no television to watch, unless she went to the dayroom, and that was out of the question. No kitchen for making coffee. Frustrated, she glanced at her briefcase and considered updating her report with what little she had, but what little she had wasn’t worth the effort. She was very disappointed.

Despite the group outing at the NCO Club with her five suspects, and to the officer’s club with Dawn, and having lunch with Mindy, she still didn’t have any concrete evidence.

She recalled Hancock’s words of manly wisdom: “When men see something we like, we go after it,” he had told her. “Go after it. Smile pretty at them, flirt with them. You’ll have no problem attracting their attention.”

Ashley had just stood there, speechless that her boss was telling her how to flirt with lesbians. The thought disgusted her. She had a hard enough time acting like she was interested with her male suspects.

“You really expect me do that?” she asked.

“Do you flirt with your male suspects?"

"Well, yeah, sometimes, but that's different."

"Why is different? We all have libidos, including you. Just think about what turns you on and use that as your starting point.”

Ashley shuddered at the thought of using herself as bait for women. What if she wasn't Mindy's type? She didn't look anything like Cindi Strickland. Strickland was short, with red, curly hair. Ashley was tall, with long, black hair. Strickland was cute, but average, which made it hard to tell what type of person Mindy Sterling preferred.

Ashley walked over to the mirror and stared into it. She studied her facial characteristics. There wasn’t a masculine thing about it. Her skin was smooth and flawless. A few slight wrinkles spread out from the corner of her eyes, but she was nearly 30, so that was expected. Her eyebrows were arched. Lips full. Was she was too feminine?

She had read about the butch/femme theory in the history book. Mindy Sterling certainly wasn't butch. She had long, blond hair. She was tall with an hour-glass figure. Her fingernails were short but well manicured. Her mannerisms were feminine.

Dawn and a few of the other players she suspected weren’t very attractive, but they weren’t homely, either. The one woman she had pegged as an obvious lesbian showed up the second day of practice with her husband and two kids. She was all confused.

Ashley wished there was a field manual on how to investigate homosexuals while undercover. She thought it was uncool that her office expected her to do a job without appropriate guidance. She was forced to rely on case files from other agents, but none of the other agents were planted on a softball team, or planted at all. Those investigations were all similar to Cindi Strickland's case; the mechanic was turned in by someone else. How easy could that be?

She paced her barracks room. She needed to rid herself of the growing anxiety she felt. Looking around, she noticed dust balls on the floor and dust on the desk. Her bed covers were crumbled up at the bottom of the bunk. There was dried-up toothpaste stuck to the bottom of the sink. Her room would flunk even the most liberal inspection. She figured now was a good time to do something about it.

Ashley walked down the hall to the supply closet and searched for anything she could find to make her living conditions more bearable. She loaded her arms with generic all-purpose cleaner, paper towels, a broom and a mop. As she backed out of the cluttered closet, a voice behind her caused her to jump.

“Can I help you find something?”

A woman in starched BDUs stood in the hallway. She reached over and opened the door wider for Ashley to pass through.

“No, thanks. I think I’ve found what I need. Thanks anyway,” Ashley said.

“Well, if you need anything else, in the cleaning department that is, you can find me in my room, which is two doors down from yours on the end. I’m the female barracks sergeant. Staff Sergeant Carol Hathaway. My name's on the door.”

“Nice to meet you, Sergeant Hathaway. I’m Specialist Ashley Marks.”

“I know who you are. I’m glad to see you’re keeping your room squared away,” Hathaway remarked. “Getting a jump on the GI party? I’m impressed.”

“I don’t like living in a pig sty, which was the condition of the room when I moved in, by the way.”

Hathaway let out a sarcastic chuckle. “I’m sorry about that. Anyway, Specialist Marks, I'll see ya at the GI party tonight. We all meet outside my room at 1900 sharp. It's mandatory, so no excuses. Your chores are posted in the latrine, if you haven’t seen them already. I think you're buffing the hallway this week.”

“To be honest, I haven’t seen the list. I have my own bathroom. I'm also exempt from GI parties,” Ashley said.

“Excuse me?” Hathaway asked. “I don’t think you understood what I said. That was an order, not a request.”

She watched the wrinkles on Hathaway’s aged face come together to form a distinct scowl. She remembered the commander’s warning that trouble could brew once the other women in the barracks learned that the new E-4 in town occupied an E-5 room. During the past week Ashley had quickly brushed past them, remaining polite yet distant. She didn’t have time for false friendships, and definitely not GI parties, which was a deceiving name for cleaning detail.

Ashley knew Hathaway was just doing her job, but she still didn’t appreciate being ordered around like she was a private. The last thing she wanted to do right now was butt heads with this woman in the middle of the hallway. If she didn’t set her straight now, she would have problems with her the rest of the week.

She took a deep breath to calm her temper. “If you have a problem with this arrangement, Sergeant Hathaway, I would advise you talk to the commander about it. Because of reasons beyond your control, I will not participate in company activities, and that includes GI parties. I'm in transit, and that's that.”

When it looked like Hathaway wasn’t going to give up without a fight, Ashley, in a bold and self-satisfying move, looked directly into Hathaway's glaring eyes and said, “I'm off limits.”

Not one to be thwarted, Hathaway didn't back down. “Listen. I don’t know who you are, and frankly I don’t care, but while you live in this barracks, transit or not, you should follow the house rules, Specialist. This is the army, not Holiday Inn. I assure you I’ll speak with the CO regarding this matter,” Hathaway hissed.

Ashley just stared at her in disbelief, then muttered she had cleaning to do and promptly excused herself.

With a hard back kick she slammed her room door shut, then dropped everything on the bed. The roll of paper towels rolled off the bed, onto the floor and unraveled across the room, leaving a short trail of paper squares in its path.

She was thoroughly pissed that the CO hadn’t told Hathaway that she was excluded from all company details. She temporarily abandoned the cleaning idea, deciding instead to talk to the commander. She quickly threw on her PT uniform, stormed down the steps and went straight to his office.

“I’m really sorry about that. To tell you the truth, I haven’t had a spare moment to talk to Sergeant Hathaway about your situation here. But don't worry about it, I’ll take care of it,” he said apologetically. “I’ll settle this right away.”

“Well, I’d appreciate that,” Ashley said, reaching over and shaking his hand. “I don’t mean to cause any problems during my short stay. I really don’t. I told her I was in transit, and I'd appreciate it if that's all she knew.”

“Don’t worry about her,” he assured her. “It’s not like you’re going to be here forever, right? In a few days, or whenever, they’ll forget you were ever here.”

Captain Springs shot her a reassuring smile. “You do your job, and I’ll do mine.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Ashley agreed.

“By the way, can I use your phone again? I have a very quick business call to make.”

“By all means.” Captain Springs shut the door behind him.

Ashley pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and dialed a number.

“Is Sergeant Sterling available?” she asked.

“This is Sergeant Sterling. Can I help you?”

“Hi. This is Ashley Marks. I was, uh, wondering what you were doing for lunch today. I’ll be in the area, so I thought I’d give you a call.”

“Actually, I already have lunch plans,” Mindy said regretfully. “I have to interview an NCO in an infantry unit and there’s no getting out of it. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s all right. It was a last minute thing anyway. We can do it another time,” Ashley said.

“Hey, how about coming to my place for dinner tonight?” Mindy offered. “Practice will probably be canceled, so why don’t you come over and have dinner with us. I’ll even make it myself. And you can meet the man in my life”

“The man in your life? I thought you were single.”

“He's my cat, Dooley,” Mindy laughed.

The cat in the photo. She almost had me, Ashley thought. “That sounds great. What time?”

“About 1900. What do you like to eat? I’ll stop by the store and pick something up on the way home.”

“I like everything. You make it and I'll eat it. I miss home cooked meals.”

Mindy laughed. “Everything, huh? I don’t want to hear you complain if you don’t like what’s on the menu.”

“I won’t complain,” Ashley promised.

She scribbled down directions to Mindy’s house and stuck the paper in her back pocket. Screw the Irish pub, she thought. I'll have better luck finding evidence in Mindy's apartment.

As soon as Mindy hung up the phone she jumped out of her chair and ran to Hardy’s office. She whispered in his ear that she had a dinner date.

“You mean you’re going to get some tonight?” he teased.

“I can’t believe you even said that,” she said, feigning surprise. She plopped down on the chair facing his desk.

“And no. I doubt I’m getting any tonight. It’s an innocent dinner among friends. Cynthia will be there, too. And besides, I’m pretty sure she’s straight,” Mindy frowned.

“Straight? Then why did you run in here to get my hopes up?" he asked.

"Wishful thinking. I’m telling you, Hardy, there’s something special about this one,” she confided. “She’s new on the team, and she can’t play for shit. Normally, I would be asking the coach what the hell is up with not kicking her off the team after the first practice. But, for some reason, when she’s out there fumbling with the ball, well, I find her absolutely adorable.”

“You, the cut-throat on the team, find her adorable? You've got it bad, Sterling.”

“God I hope not! But after what happened last night, well, I guess I do.” Mindy paused for dramatic effect.

“During practice Dawn was acting her butch self and practically knocked her down for a fly ball. I really wanted to kick her ass. It's like I wanted to defend this girl or something. What the hell is wrong with me?”

Hardy, a bemused look on his face, grabbed her arm and pulled up her sleeve. “I don’t see any bruises or broken bones, so I’m assuming you didn't act on instinct,” he laughed.

Mindy gently pulled her arm from his grasp. “What do you think I am? Stupid?”

They both laughed.

“So, you wanted to defend her honor? Yep, you’re in trouble.”

“But she asked me to lunch today, and I have that damn interview.”

Hardy looked pleased. “Thank you for not blowing it off for another woman. As much as I'm happy for you, I’m glad you chose work over romance. I was getting a little worried.”

“You know me better than that. I always survive my writing blocks, Jim.”

“Yes, you do,” he agreed, sounding amused. “But keep that big heart of yours in check, girl. You said yourself you think she's straight. You don't want to get involved in that mess. Get what I'm saying? Now get back to work, will ya?”

Mindy went to her desk, grabbed her notebook and coat, and waved to Hardy as she rushed out of the building for her interview.

Hardy waited a few minutes after she left before he went outside and lit up a cigarette. He knew she hated his smoking; ragged on him constantly about the dangers of nicotine and blah, blah, blah. He sighed as he blew out a lung full of smoke into the air. It was his worst bad habit. He vowed to quit someday, but that day never seemed to be the right day.

He did appreciate her concern, though. He liked Mindy, a lot. She was a good person and a great reporter, and her sexual orientation didn't matter to him at all. He had sensed it from the very beginning. His younger sister was a lesbian, so he knew many of the secret signs.

It was over a year ago when he took over the division’s weekly 10-page tabloid. During his first staff meeting he informed everyone that he was going to have a confidential, open-door policy for anyone who needed to vent, talk or complain.

He told his young staff of four print journalists and two photographers that he was a stickler for details and had a high expectation of his staff, but that he was a fair NCO who would do anything for them.

About two months after that speech, he noticed Mindy was not making deadlines and her stories seemed to be thrown together. They were choppy, wordy and not very interesting. When she turned in an article that contained an error in fact, he decided he couldn't ignore her downfall any longer. He called her into his office and told her he knew something was bothering her, and he wanted her to feel free to talk about it.

“Consider this a confidential counseling session," he kindly told her.

"It's nothing. I'm just in a slump, that's all," Mindy said.

"I know your work, Mindy. It’s good. But lately, well, I’ve noticed you’ve been in more than a little slump. You had a major error in fact in that last story. You're lucky I caught it. People are saying you're not being yourself. It won't leave this room.”

"People? What people?"

"People who care about you. When I asked if mistakes were common in your stories, they assured me something was up. So what's up? Spill the beans."

Mindy was afraid to meet his gaze. How could she tell her boss that she just missed her lover? He was obliged to take action against her if he knew about her sexual orientation, and the last thing she wanted was to leave the military on someone else’s terms.

"It's personal, Jim. I can't talk about it, okay?"

Hardy studied her worried face. He figured now was a good time to get it out in the open.

“You don’t think I know what you’re going through?” he asked. “My sister’s gay. I’ve seen what she goes through after a breakup.”

Mindy was caught off guard by his candid honesty. How did he know? She considered denying it, but if he had the guts to ask, she should have the guts to admit it. She asked how he knew.

“I told you. My sister’s gay. We were pretty close. In fact, you remind me of her. Maybe that’s why I’ve let you get away with sloppy work lately. But I can’t turn my head forever, Mindy. You need to work this out so you can get back to being Lois Lane again. Like I said, this won't leave this office, okay? Your secret is safe with me,” he smiled.

Mindy stood up, walked over to him and gave him a big hug.

“Thanks, boss,” she said, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Thanks for talking with me. It means a lot. It hasn't been easy since she left, but I’ll get my shit together soon. I promise.”

Hardy chuckled at the memory as he pulled out another cigarette and fired it up.

***

“I can’t believe you’re making such a big deal out of this,” announced Cynthia as she surveyed the cluttered kitchen counter.

The sink was full of lettuce leaves, shaved carrot peelings, tomato tops and chicken skin. The counter was covered with a thin layer of flour. An empty plastic bag of frozen broccoli lay on the floor, next to the trash can.

“God, what a mess. You’re going a little overboard, girlfriend,” Cynthia complained.

“Oh, shut up. I’d do this for any dinner guest,” she said defensively.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Cynthia countered. “I live with you, Min, and I’ve never seen you cook a full course meal before.”

“Really? Never? I guess I’ve just never had a good excuse to cook.”

“That’s for sure,” Cynthia laughed as she bent down and picked up the plastic bag and threw it in the trash. “You should make excuses more often.”

“Don’t get used to it. Hey, why don’t you be a doll and set the table for us. After all, you’re benefitting from this meal, too.”

“Whoa! Do I hear a hint of regret in your voice? You can still tell me to get lost. I can easily find something else to do, believe me,” Cynthia muttered. She opened the cabinet door and pulled out a stack of plates.

“It’s not like that. I already told you there’s nothing going on. It’s a friendly welcome-to-the-team kind of thing,” Mindy explained. “If I wanted you to get lost, I would have asked. I don’t want to scare her off. It’s better with both of us here.”

“Oh, now the real truth comes out. I see what you’re doing,” Cynthia said. “You want me to be a buffer between you two, just in case this girl is married with kids and a total loser and you want me around to save you.”

Cynthia paused, then added: “Do you want my honest opinion?”

Mindy, both hands planted in the large wooden bowl, stopped mixing the salad and looked quizzically at her, not really sure she wanted to hear it.

“I’m afraid to ask, but go ahead. Speak your mind, all knowing one,” Mindy sighed.

“Okay. My personal opinion is this chick's straight. I think we both know that. However, there's something about her I just don’t trust. The way she looks at us, like she’s studying us or something. It gives me the creeps. And have you noticed how vague she is about her own life?

“I just get bad vibes when she's around,” Cynthia continued. “I’ve been in the service a long time and I can tell when something is just not right.”

Cynthia paused, giving Mindy opportunity to take in what she has just said.

“I know it’s hard to believe, that it could happen right here, in our own circle of friends, and in this modern army, no less. But this woman, well, I hate to say it, but she just might be CID. A plant. Think about it, Mindy. It does happen.”

Mindy rolled her eyes, then threw the wash cloth into the sink and turned to face Cynthia.

“Are you done?” she angrily asked.

“I hope so, Cynthia, because you’re beginning to dampen my spirits. Why can’t you be happy for me? You practically forced me to get over Kim, and now you’re against the one person who makes me forget her.”

Cynthia shook her head, frustrated that her roommate could be so blind. She reached up to the shelf and grabbed three wine glasses, setting them down hard on the table. Then she pulled out a chair and plopped down.

“I thought you said this was nothing but a friendly dinner. I knew you were getting way over your head with this one,” Cynthia said.

“Give me a break,” Mindy mumbled.

“It’s dinner, that’s all. I’m not talking marriage here. But if you’re uncomfortable with the situation, you’re welcome to lock yourself in your room for the rest of the evening, or go visit Tammy and Jessica or something.

“Anyway, I really doubt she’s CID. I would assume they’d at least plant someone who looked gay and could actually play ball. Why would they send someone in who we’d question right off the bat? It's too obvious. It doesn’t make sense.”

“The whole fucking gay ban doesn’t make sense,” Cynthia sneered.

Not wanting to put Mindy into an angrier state, Cynthia took a deep breath then walked over and gave her a hug.

“Hey, it’s just a thought, knuckle head. But I’d still be careful if I were you. Remember, if she is CID, you’re not the only one going down. It’s all of us. Guilt by association. Hear what I'm saying?”

Cynthia, hoping to have the last word, silently challenged Mindy to respond to her warning.

Both women worked quietly as the clock ticked closer to 1900. Cynthia had chosen to stay for dinner. She wanted to keep a suspicious eye on Mindy’s new friend.

She sat quietly at the small, round kitchen table, puffing on a cigarette while she watched Mindy put the finishing touches on her meal. Her mouth began to water when Mindy reached into the oven and pulled out a pan of roasted chicken quarters. As she pulled back the aluminum, steam arose from the pan, spreading a delicious aroma throughout the kitchen. She watched Mindy poke the chicken with a fork, then return the pan into the oven.

Cynthia took a big, exaggerated sniff and finally smiled. “Well, this is a switch. I wish it was every day you were trying to impress a date.”

“Not me. It’s too much work,” Mindy admitted.

She nervously glanced at her watch. “She should be here in a few minutes. Please, please, try to be civil. It’s important to me, okay? I know you don’t like her, but act like you do,” she pleaded.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like her. I said I didn’t trust her.”

“Whatever,” Mindy mumbled. “Just be a good girl and maybe I’ll make you special brownies this weekend. And could you please smoke in the other room. You're ruining the aroma.”

Cynthia frowned as she hoisted herself up and looked out the window.

“There’s a car coming down the street. Could be her. I’m going into the living room and act like I’m reading a magazine. That’ll give you a few minutes to yourselves in here. But don’t forget to call me when it’s ready,” Cynthia said.

Mindy waved her out of the kitchen. She watched the lights of the car go out. As soon as she saw Ashley’s slim figure approaching the front door, she took a deep breath to calm herself down. As she passed by the bathroom, she quickly stole a look into the mirror and pinched her cheeks to create a flushed glow. She pushed several strands of loose hair from her eyes.

Ashley, cradling a bottle of red German wine, stood patiently in front of the door in a down pour. She brushed her damp hair back with one hand, and handed Mindy the bottle of wine with the other.

“It’s still raining,” she commented as she stepped into the foyer of the bottom stairs apartment.

“I can see this,” Mindy laughed. “I’ll get you a towel. Follow me.”

Mindy grabbed a towel from the bathroom and handed it to her. “Would you like a cup of coffee? It’ll warm you right up.”

“If it’s already made,” Ashley said. She stopped outside the foyer and slipped her shoes off.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” Mindy told her.

“It’s automatic,” Ashley assured her. “My mother’s a clean freak. Though I have to admit I didn’t take after her. But I do respect other people’s homes.”

Mindy guided her into a kitchen chair. “Dinner’s almost ready. I'm just waiting for the rolls.”

“Smells delicious. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages. I've looked forward to this all day.”

“I bet you expected TV dinners.”

“It would have been easier. Do you need help with anything?” Ashley asked.

“Nope. I got it covered. I had a little help from Cynthia. She’s got her nose buried in a magazine at the moment.”

Mindy poured coffee into a cup and handed it to Ashley. "The sugar's on the table and milk's in the frig. Need a spoon?"

"No thanks. I take mine black. Thank you."

"My pleasure. Everything should be done in a few minutes."

She pulled out the rolls and set them on the table.

“Hey, Cynthia. You ready?” Mindy called out.

Cynthia emerged from the living room. “Hi. How are ya?”

She looked at the wine bottle on the counter. “Mind if I pour some wine?” she offered.

Mindy handed Cynthia the bottle of wine, pulled the chicken from the oven, then poured the broccoli into a deep dish.

“Dinner is served,” she said.

“About time,” Cynthia blurted out. “My mouth’s been watering for hours now.”

“It must have really tested your will power,” Ashley remarked. “I would have broken down and taste tested everything.”

“She would have cut my hand off,” Cynthia joked. Everyone at the table laughed, then fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Ashley was quite aware that Cynthia was watching her every move, and that Mindy was glaring at Cynthia. But Mindy’s attempt to keep Cynthia’s mouth shut was futile.

“So, what made you try out for the team?” Cynthia asked in between mouthfuls of chicken.

“Well, sports is something I’ve always wanted to do. Like I told Mindy yesterday, a friend in the barracks suggested I check out your team, to make friends, so I am.”

“Did you know Mindy’s team almost won the European championship last year?"

Ashley glanced at Mindy to judge her reaction to Cynthia’s direct line of questioning. She was used to being put on the hot seat; it came with the job, so she expected it.

“No, I didn't know that. But I do now. Do I expect to make the cut? Not really, but what the hell. I know I have a lot to learn, but I have a good attitude. I don’t mind sitting the bench for a while, and I'm making friends, I think.”

“Did you play when you were a kid?”

“For a while. When I was about 11 I played on a team with my best friend. But when she died in a car accident, well, I quit.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” Cynthia replied.

"That's okay. It was a long time ago."

“How long did you say you were in the army?” Cynthia couldn't help it.

“About three years.”

“What’s your MOS again?”

“Clerk typist,” Ashley answered. Now she knew Cynthia was testing her, considering she had already asked that question at the NCO Club.

“I work in the finance department. It’s not brain surgery, but if someone doesn’t get paid or their vacation is screwed up, all of a sudden we’re the most important incompetents on earth. We’re the army’s unsung heroes.”

“Well said,” Mindy commented.

“I’m sorry, but what unit did you say you’re in?” Cynthia asked.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Mindy angrily cut in. “Will you please let our guest eat in peace? You’re being rude.”

Cynthia smiled and winked at Mindy. “Just getting to know her, that’s all,” she uttered. “Forgive my curious mind, Ashley. I’m quite harmless.”

Ashley accepted her apology, and told her that she was happy to answer any more questions she had. But Mindy shot Cynthia a silent warning to put a cork in it.

Cynthia picked at her chicken while Ashley and Mindy traded small talk. When Cynthia couldn’t take it anymore, she complimented Mindy on her hidden culinary talent, politely excused herself, grabbed her coat and left the apartment.

“I hope she didn’t leave because of me,” Ashley said, trying to sound concerned.

But, of course, she was very happy to see her leave. She needed to be alone with Mindy so she could find out more about her without Cynthia’s suspicious mind dissecting her every word. It was very evident Cynthia didn’t trust her.

“She’s all right. She does that with every person she meets,” she lied. “She’s naturally curious, and a tad overprotective. Please don’t take it personally, okay?”

“Oh, I don’t,” she responded, meeting Mindy’s smile.

Mindy scanned the cluttered table, then began to gather the plates, scraping bones into the trash can, filling the sink with soapy water. Ashley picked up the wine bottle and poured herself another glass. She tried to help but Mindy told her to enjoy her wine. So she leaned back in the chair and attempted to relax.

“That was very good,” Ashley said as she stifled a yawn. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

“I came from a large family. Two sisters and twin brothers. Me, being the youngest, watched my mom and sisters prepare all the meals. I used to think it was fun watching them frantically run around the kitchen while I gleefully made a mess with everything they left out. One time my mom left a bag of flour on the counter. Do I have to tell you what happened next? I looked like Casper the friendly ghost.”

Mindy liked making Ashley laugh, and the way her brown eyes lit up. She thought the way she instinctively covered her face when she laughed out loud was cute. She wondered if she had braces when she was a kid and used to hide them, because her teeth were perfect now.

Mindy couldn’t imagine that this mysterious woman, who seemed to be interested in her, who toasted red wine with her, well, she had a hard time imagining that all along she intended to hurt her. But now and then she couldn’t help but wonder if a seemingly genuine laugh or smile was fake. She cursed Cynthia for planting such a horrible thought into her mind, but she couldn’t deny that Cynthia had a point about her vague answers. Maybe later, if she felt like it, she might ask a few questions herself, just to satisfy her own curiosity. If Cynthia needed answers, then she would give her answers. But for now, Mindy thought, she would enjoy the evening.

“One reason I don’t cook much is because Cynthia does most of the cooking, plus I don't have a dishwasher,” she said as she scrubbed a pan.

“Would you like some help now? It’s the least I can do.”

“Sure, if you’re so inclined.” Mindy handed her a towel and together they quickly tackled the entire mess Mindy had taken hours to make.

Despite Ashley’s objections, Mindy pulled another chilled bottle of sparkling wine from the fridge and popped the cork, sending it soaring to the ceiling with a thud.

“What shall we toast to?” she asked.

“Rain,” Ashley answered as she held up her glass.

“To rain,” Mindy happily repeated, clicking her crystal glasses against the other.

“So, you like rain, too?” Mindy asked. “I’ve always been mesmerized by thunderstorms. They make me want to curl up in front of a fireplace and read a good book."

Mindy attempted to look directly into Ashley’s eyes, to give her a subtle sign of interest, but Ashley looked away.

“To be honest, I was happy when I woke up this morning to a storm because it meant I wouldn’t have to make a complete ass out of myself tonight. I just might retire after my first season, if I last that long."

“Hey, c’mon now. I know you'll grow to love it. Trust me,” Mindy told her.

Don’t trust me, Ashley thought as she put her empty glass in the sink.

But it was too late. It didn’t take long for Mindy to cast aside Cynthia’s worries. By the end of dinner she had decided that Cynthia was full of shit. She figured she was smart enough to recognize the signs of a CID agent. If her guest did something to warrant suspicion in the course of the evening, then she would immediately take action. But until then, she wanted to enjoy herself.

“How long have you been playing for Brad?” Ashley asked.

“This is my third and final season here. I’m going back to the States this fall. I’m hoping to get orders for Hawaii. I have a friend at the newspaper there who recently put in for Korea. His wife is going to be stationed there, so he put in for orders for Korea, too. I’ve already put in my request for his slot,” Mindy explained.

“We were pretty good friends during journalism school. He wrote me a few months ago to let me know there was going to be an opening. It's a long shot, but I might get lucky," Mindy added.

Ashley listened intently. Now she was really confused. The only evidence of lesbianism she had witnessed thus far was a stupid bumper sticker. But other signs, stronger signs, pointed the opposite direction. Did lesbians have straight male friends? She didn’t know. She had heard gays traveled in packs, that they were a tight-knit bunch who hated men. Segregated. But Mindy didn’t appear to hate men.

“Are you anxious to leave Germany?” Ashley asked.

“I’m going to miss it, but it’s time to go.”

“You got that right,” Ashley said.

“But didn't you just get here?” countered Mindy.

“No. I was on the Czech border, remember? Anyway, even if I had just got here, that doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with you,” she explained as she pushed her wine away, fearing it was making her too comfortable. Her face felt flushed, and she was more relaxed than she had been in months. She wanted to finish her third glass, but the consequence of blowing her cover due to sloppy drunkenness wasn’t worth it. She had to keep her wits about her.

“I bet your family is happy you'll be a little closer,” Ashley said, hoping to focus the conversation back on Mindy.

“They sure are,” she grinned. “My mom hates that I’m so far away, especially in the army. She thinks I should’ve gotten my college degree.”

“You know, Mindy, there are a lot of people who quit college to join the army. Some people just aren’t ready for college, or they run out of money. You can’t beat the tuition the military hands you on a silver platter.”

Mindy looked quizzically at her. She tried to recall when, or if, she ever mentioned anything to her about quitting school. It was the one thing she tried to keep under a lid. She was embarrassed to admit she couldn’t finish what she had started. She was sure she hadn’t mentioned it.

“How did you know I quit school?”

“Uh, I heard someone mention it at the NCO Club the other night. I can’t remember who it was, but it was just a passing remark about you being the editor of the school paper, or something like that. They said you’re brilliant.”

“Brilliant? I don’t think so, or I wouldn’t have quit school, which is something I’m not proud of. My whole family is stocked with college grads. My twin brothers are both doctors, if you can believe that. And my other brother, Carl, is a physical therapist. So you can understand my parent’s disappointment when I quit school to join the service.”

“Wow! You have many shoes to fill. And I thought it was tough being an only child,” Ashley said.

Mindy looked sad all of a sudden, and Ashley knew she had found one of Mindy’s weaknesses; disappointing her family.

She knew everyone had a weakness, no matter how strong people portray themselves to be, and that they, as special agents, had to capitalize on that weakness when the time was right. A suspect’s weakness was often an agent’s strength to getting what they needed.

She sometimes didn’t always like it, but she made an oath to do what has to be done, even if that meant dangling children, a spouse or parents in front of a defendant like a carrot. If she had to threaten to take a child away, or to tell a suspect’s spouse something they didn’t want to hear, like their husband was a cheater, well, that was the price a perp paid for committing the crime in the first place.

Sometimes it was a ruthless practice, but one that more times than not guaranteed a flood of information spewing forth from the suspects. If only they had thought of the consequences before they did whatever they weren’t supposed to do, but Ashley knew life was much more complex than that.

“Hey, things always work out for the best,” Ashley said. "You plan on going back to school, don’t you?”

“Of course. And my parents have lightened up since then. There are worse things in life than serving your country,” Mindy muttered. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“How was your drink with Dawn last night? Did you enjoy yourself?” Mindy asked in playful sarcasm.

“I only did it to appease her. I had one drink. Then I left. You don’t like her very much, do you?”

“She’s a snake.”

“A snake? A rattle snake or a garden snake? Seems to me she’s had a hard life. I kind of feel sorry for her. What's her story anyway?”

“Her story is that she's an ignorant muscle head. And as far as a hard life goes, well, other people have had it harder. Hell, take Cynthia, my roommate. She’s been in the army 13 years. No one has had it harder than that poor woman. She’s suffered the death of her parents when she was 15. They were killed in a car accident. And her best friend from home died in a plane crash a couple years ago. Now that’s a hard life. And she doesn't invade people's personal space to get a little sympathy."

"What do you mean?"

“Let's just say Dawn annoys the crap out of me, that's all,” Mindy said.

Ashley kind of knew what she meant. She wished Mindy hadn’t told her about Cynthia’s parents and best friend, though. It reminded her of Jill, of the day her mother woke her up and told her that she was dead. The pain was overwhelming, and it had lasted for years. She couldn't imagine losing her parents, too.

Ashley stared out of the window. They both were silent, as if there were no appropriate words to utter at the moment. Ashley realized that the more she learned about these women, the more she commiserated with them, pitied them. She felt she was going nuts.

Dooley, who had been weaving in and out of their ankles the past five minutes, got tired of being ignored and took a flying leap into Ashley’s lap.

"Oh, my goodness," Ashley laughed. "You scared the heck out of me."

“Dooley! Bad kitty,” Mindy scolded. “That's my big baby, Dooley. He can be bothersome at times. Please let me know if he irritates you. I hope you're not allergic to cats.”

“No, no. He’s fine. I don’t mind. It’s been a long time since I’ve petted a cat. A friend of mine has a dog, but he keeps her chained outside. I don’t agree with it, but it’s not my dog.”

“Dooley gets pretty demanding. But I admit I’ve spoiled him rotten. I’ve had him since he was a kitten. He makes this place homier, if you know what I mean. There’s nothing more comforting than coming home to someone who loves you no matter what stupid thing you do or say. Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all. Pets are good therapy. At least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never had a pet,” she said as she rubbed under Dooley’s chin.

“Never? Lonely child and no pets? You poor thing. Hey, he likes you. You should get one,” Mindy said.

“I don’t think so. I’m living in the barracks, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, when you get your own place then. Are you looking for one?”

“Soon. I want to settle in first. Get to know the area, then I’ll look for a place. But until then Dooley will have to do, if you don't mind."

Mindy smiled as she watched Dooley bask in the attention. His eyes were closed, and his chin was hiked up high to allow it to be stroked. His loud purr could be heard throughout the kitchen.

“I don't mind sharing,” Mindy said as she reached for him and carefully set him on the floor. “Let's go into the living room, where it’s more comfortable.”

They both stood up and Ashley followed her into the living room, where she purposefully chose an arm chair. Mindy took the corner of the couch closest to the chair.

“So, enough about me. Tell me something about yourself. What’s your sign?” Mindy asked.

“Well, if you believe in that stuff, then I’m a Scorpio. I really don’t follow that crap, though I have to admit I’m quite moody. I mean, that’s what the planets dictate, right?

"But you'll find this interesting: My birthday's on Halloween, so I've always felt this affinity to ghosts and goblins. My birthday cakes were always decorated in black and orange with bats and spiders and stuff like that. It was actually fun as a kid. But don't get me wrong, my family is religious, so the gothic stuff ceased the next day."

"Wow, that's cool, about your birthday, I mean. What's your religion?" Mindy asked.

“Roman Catholic. I go to church every Sunday. Could I please have a glass of water?"

Mindy stood up, went into the kitchen and poured them both glasses of water.

She lingered by the sink for a moment. She was thinking about the religious thing, hoping Ashley wasn't too religious. She knew how religion fucked with people's minds. Religion had a tendency to keep people in the closet. She carried their glasses into the living room.

“So, what’s your sign?” Ashley asked as she reached for her glass.

“Aries. Head strong and stubborn. That’s me. But I really don’t believe in that stuff, either. I like fortune cookies because they’re so dumb. Once in a while they just happen to be true. I recently had one say that I would fall in love soon. Have you ever been in love?”

Ashley let out a nervous chuckle. “Sure, I guess I have.”

"You guess?”

"Well, I've never seen stars, if that's what mean. How about you?"

“A few times, actually. I think I told you at the restaurant that the last person I lived with I really loved. But that’s totally over. Time to move on.”

Ashley then thought of Cynthia, and wondered where she fit in to the scheme of things. It was obvious Mindy cared for her roommate, but she's not admitting that she loves her. She thought for a moment, wondering if she should just come out and ask what she wanted to ask. She figured now was the time to strike because Mindy was being quite nosy herself, and two could play that game.

“Can I ask you something, Mindy?”

Mindy took a sip of water. “Should I brace myself?”

"Well, it's kind of personal. And it's probably none of my business."

"I guess it's my turn. Sure, you can ask me just about anything."

“How long has Cynthia lived here? She seems pretty protective. She wasn't too happy I came over tonight. I was just wondering if I did something to piss her off. Is there something I should know?”

Mindy set her glass down. Cynthia’s warning came back in a flash. Don't say anything. She knew telling Ashley anything about Cynthia would be against her wishes, but Ashley needed to know they were just friends.

"We're good friends. I met her during a story interview for the paper. She needed a place to stay and I needed a roommate. She's like that, protective, I mean, with all her friends. She's a good friend."

"I can tell. She's nice."

Mindy laughed. "Nice? She's many things, but not really nice. I don't blame you for being uneasy around her. She's hard to get to know. She really is harmless, though."

"Well, I was just curious."

Mindy wanted desperately to come out to Ashley, and she wanted to do it now. She wanted to trust her. Lord knows she wanted to.

"Some people get the wrong idea. Can you imagine us together? Now that's funny."

“Well, you do live together, and she comes to your practices. So naturally I thought, well, you know.”

“You did? Honestly? You thought we were together? Let’s just say she’s not my type,” Mindy said.

“Okay, what's your type then?”

Mindy let out a small laugh. “Smart, funny, cute.”

"Hey, that's my type, too,” Ashley laughed.

"Actually, I have this philosophy about opposites attracting. With me, well, I'm attracted to brunettes with a serious nature to them. Don't ask me why."

“Is that how you would describe your ex?”

“Well, let me demonstrate. Follow me.”

This is it, Mindy thought.

Mindy hoisted herself from the couch and walked over to a large cherry china cabinet built into a wall on the south side of the living room. The top three shelves were stocked with crystal that Mindy had collected over the years. The bottom shelf stored various souvenirs from her numerous European travels.

Mindy, feeling extremely nervous, her heart pounding wildly, pointed to the middle shelf, to an 8x10 framed color photo of a dark-haired woman. The woman's shoulder-length hair was slicked back. Her green eyes were serious, almost contemptuous. In a smaller frame was a snap shot of Mindy and the same woman leaning against each other on a ski lift in the mountains, their faces close together, both smiling widely and wearing tight-fitting ski suits.

“That’s Kim. She was my last girlfriend.”

Ashley gazed at the photo for a long time. She tried to imagine them together, like a man and a woman would be together. She tried to envision them kissing one another, but it was so out of her frame of reference that it was nearly impossible.

“Is this what you wanted to know?” Mindy asked, speaking softly. She stood behind her; so close Ashley could feel her breath on the back of her neck.

Ashley sensed her warmth and instinctively moved away from her. “I guess it is.”

Gotta ya! Ashley thought. Forget the bumper sticker. I have the confession. Grand slam!

Ashley knew she should walk out right now and file her report and go home. She was done. But she stood there, staring at the photos. She knew what she should do, but it’s not what she wanted to do. She was curious as hell.

Ashley politely excused herself, turned from Mindy, walked quickly to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, soaked a wash clothe with water and dabbed her face with it. She needed a moment to collect herself, to deal with the information she had been sent here to get. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She had to make up her mind right now. Stay or go? She nervously bit her lip. She decided she couldn’t leave because she had other questions to ask. She wanted to know about the others.

When she returned Mindy was sitting on the couch, leaning forward, another glass of wine cradled with both hands, her eyes searching for a reaction.

Ashley sat back in her chair. She sat still, trying not to tremble, suddenly feeling vulnerable. She couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t repulsed by it. Now that it was said and done, everything had changed.

She was surprised, but not shocked by it. Instead, she felt relieved for some reason, and that worried her more than anything. Here was this beautiful woman who had just told her she was a lesbian. They were alone, in the dark, their faces lit only by the candles Mindy had lit earlier. She cursed herself for getting into this compromising position, which is exactly what Hancock wanted, yet she couldn’t leave.

“Well, I just poured my heart out to you. Now it’s your turn.”

Ashley glanced at the door. Yes, she should leave. But she remained frozen on the chair, wondering what she was going to say next.

“Oh, my life is pretty boring. Not much to tell,” she said.

“Oh, don't you do that to me. Not after what I just told you.”

Mindy wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily. If Cynthia was right, then she had to somehow fix what she had done, though she feared that if Ashley was a CID agent, the damage was done. But since the secret was out now, Mindy figured she had enough of Ashley's secrecy. All she knew at this point was that she tried out for a team she was unqualified for, came from a place she didn't want to talk about, and now shrugged off her life as boring.

“C’mon. What are you afraid of? I just came out to you, didn’t I? Do you have a girlfriend?" Mindy asked. She paused, searching Ashley’s face for the answer.

"Or are you straight? It's okay if you are, ya know. You'd still be my friend, if you still want to be my friend. I’m not going to hold that against you, or attack you.”

“No, it's not that. Okay. Well, I’m just a little nervous,” Ashley admitted.

She rubbed the back of her neck. She glanced at the clock. It was going on 2200. She felt more nervous than she ever had in her whole life. And it didn’t help that Mindy was staring at her, expecting something, anything.

“To tell you the truth, I do have a, uh, a girlfriend. Her name is, Um, Justine. It’s a long-distance relationship.”

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? Are you two happy?"

Ashley felt her heart pound widely. As she pondered the question, her eyes locked onto Mindy’s slender hands. She wore a small diamond ring on her right pinky finger.

It was a good question. Was she happy? She supposed so. She just didn't want to get married. Did that mean she didn't really love him? She always thought she loved him. But was she happy?

“Yes, I suppose we're happy,” she answered.

“Then I'm glad for you. How long have you been with Justine?”

“A few years. She’s the only female I’ve ever been with, so I’m a little ignorant to the homosexual lifestyle. I haven’t been attracted to anyone since I’ve met her. Most of the homosexuals I meet are too, well, how should I put this? They’re not my type. No one else has ever appealed to me. Does dating one person make me a, a homosexual? I don’t really know.”

“Wow, are you closeted. Nobody really uses the word homosexual anymore. It sounds so clinical. But I know what you mean, about the attraction thing. Our choices are rather limited, considering we're only about 10 percent or so of the population. And then many of us are so deep in the closet, hell, that makes it even harder to find someone. That's why I was so happy to meet you."

Mindy couldn't help it. Even though Ashley had a girlfriend, she had to tell her how she felt, before she lost her nerve.

"Me?"

"Ashley, there aren't many people who I’m attracted to, and I’m definitely attracted to you. I think you’re very beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Ashley repeated, as if she wasn’t sure she heard her right. Her face felt burning red hot. She nervously smiled, then quickly put her hand over her scar, which she hoped wasn't glowing.

Never had Jason been able to make her blush this way. He's always telling her how beautiful she is, but Mindy’s seductive voice nearly took her breath away, making her speechless. She suddenly felt taken aback, and flattered, and embarrassed, and freaked out.

“Oh, I don't think I'm beautiful. Pretty average, really. Uh, I have to go the bathroom again. I guess it was the wine, going right through me. I'll be right back,” Ashley said as she grabbed her purse and retreated into the bathroom again.

Feeling a little woozy, she leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror. She could see her scar now, so she pulled out her makeup and shakily applied a light coat. She kept her eyes closed as she tried to calm down.

What the fuck are you doing? she asked herself in the mirror. She covered her face with both hands, feeling angry that she had let this façade go this far. She had to leave this place now. She had what she needed. Now it was time to go.

Ashley lifted her shirt to make sure the tiny tape recorder she had secured to her stomach was still on. She now had what the CID wanted from her, so she turned it off and removed the little black recorder, wincing as she pulled the adhesive tape from her skin. She stuffed it down into the deep recesses of her purse.

When she returned to the living room, Dooley was perched on Mindy’s lap on the couch.

“I named him Dooley in tribute to one of the first gay soldiers, well, known gay soldiers, in the army.”

Ashley knelt down and petted him. “That’s cool.”

“An ex-girlfriend bought him for me as a birthday present. He’s my little monster.”

“Hasn’t been a monster around me.”

“His manners are good tonight,” Mindy said as she sifted her fingers through his fur.

"So is the whole team gay?" Ashley casually asked.

"No. Not everyone."

"Oh. Well, I was just curious. I just can’t believe I’ve finally met other, um, family members. I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one, ya know?"

"Oh, you're definitely not the only one. But I can't speak for everyone else. Only myself, and I definitely am."

"I'm glad." Ashley didn't know what else to say. She went for the big question and got an answer. Additional probing would be obvious.

Ashley watched Mindy play with Dooley, and again her eyes fixed on her fingers, and for a split second she wondered what it would be like to be touched by them. The thought terrified her. She abruptly stood up and carried her water glass into the kitchen.

“Well, as much as I would like to stay, I really should be going. It's getting late and I have PT in the morning,” Ashley said as she walked to the front door.

“Yep, me too. I had a nice evening. And don't worry about me. If you have a girlfriend, I'll respect that."

“Thank you. I’m supposed to call Justine when I get home. You know how it is.”

“Guess I do. It's been a long time since I had to answer to someone. Well, I’m really glad you came over. Can we do it again sometime? As friends?”

“Yes, I'd like that,” she said.

"Oh, you forgot your coat. I'll get it."

Ashley wanted to tell her to forget it, that she couldn't wait another minute, but she stood in the foyer and waited impatiently as Mindy disappeared into what she assumed was her bedroom.

Mindy picked up the coat from the arm chair and held it close to her. Then, despite her instinct to trust Ashley, she paused just long enough to quickly go through the pockets. It wasn't something she planned on doing, or should be doing, but Cynthia's warning had nagged her all night. The first three pockets were empty. But stuffed inside the last pocket was a piece of paper.

She quietly unfolded it, only to find the scribbled directions to her apartment. Mindy smiled with relief and rushed out of the room. She didn't want to do it, and she didn't know what she would find, if anything, but it was something she had to do.

"By the way, a bunch of us are going out Saturday night. I would love for you to come with us. Then you can see that we don’t all look alike. Maybe it’ll take your mind off a few things. I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ashley told her as she stood at the door.

Then Mindy, as if this was the most normal and sane thing to do at the moment, leaned over and kissed Ashley gently on the lips. She then handed Ashley her jacket and calmly said, “Here ya go."

Ashley instinctively reached for her jacket, as if in a trance. No words would come to her, so she turned to the door and quickly scurried down the sidewalk to the safe confines of her car.

Disappointment swept through Mindy as she watched Ashley drive away. She knew her kiss wasn't a “good girl” thing to do, but she couldn't halt the impulse to kiss her. It was a only brief, friendly kiss, she reasoned, not the kind Ashley should feel guilty about.

She didn't believe in stealing another woman’s girlfriend, unless it felt absolutely right. And she wasn’t sure yet that this was meant to be. But fidelity, this time someone else's, was a self-imposed rule Mindy had really, really wanted to break tonight. Instead, she ended up taking off her own clothes, covering her own lean body with a night gown, and climbing into her queen-sized bed with Dooley, the next best thing.

So, while Mindy slept, Ashley slouched over her notes, pen in hand, nearly done translating the last set of notes for this case. She pushed the play button again on the small tape recorder. She was transcribing everything they had said at dinner, word for word.

Beautiful, she muttered. She couldn’t believe her female suspect had called her beautiful, and had actually kissed her, on the mouth! She desperately wanted to forget that brash act, but her mind kept replaying that moment over and over, torturing her.

She listened intently a dozen times to the segment of the tape that repeated this portion of the conversation:

"Ashley, there aren't many people who I’m attracted to, and I’m definitely attracted to you. I think you’re very beautiful.”

It struck her that the recorder was so tiny, fitting in the palm of her hand, was undetectable through her shirt, yet the damage it was going to cause Mindy Sterling was immeasurable.

The tape was certainly her most valuable tool of destruction. It was the final piece to the puzzle. Two voices on record. One incriminating itself. And the other her own. She heard herself baiting Mindy along, encouraging her to out herself. Her suspect called her beautiful. Hancock would get a kick out of that one.

She wanted to rip out the long strand of recorded testimony, to disable its power. Instead, she carefully sealed it in an envelope and marked it as evidence. The tape would undoubtedly be played to Mindy during the interrogation. She imagined an agent playing it to prove to her they had all the evidence they needed. That's when Mindy would give in to them. Give them names. Cynthia’s name. And Dawn’s name. Tammy and Jessica and Mary and Tina. And those were just the ones Ashley suspected. Mindy would no doubt deceive all of her friends, because she was deceived herself.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. She was the only one who knew a tape even existed. Nobody would know if it simply vanished, not even Hancock. But destroying evidence was not an option, and she was ashamed that she even considered it. She had a job to do, and now it was done.