"I don't know, but if you can come up with her motivation, I'm all ears.
We have to provide a plausible reason she'd lie--something we can prove--
or we won't have much of a case. It'l be your word against hers, and all she has to do is break into tears to appear authentic."
"I don't know why she hates me," Luke said. "I didn't stay as long as she wanted me to and it pissed her off. That's all I can guess." He also hadn't been able to repeat to her what she'd said to him before he got out of bed. I love you... He'd assumed she was joking. They worked together, but there was no love involved. "So what can we do about Ava Bixby?" he asked.
"Pray she runs low on funds and has to close her doors. Soon."
Luke shook his head. Now he had a victims' charity after him, hoping to see him swing for a crime he didn't commit. "Would it help if I talked to her?"
"Definitely not! That's why I'm calling. She may try to get in touch with you, but don't speak to her. She's on their side."
Luke massaged his left temple. He wanted to declare his innocence to anyone who'd listen, which made it difficult not to talk. But ever since base security had banged on his door, he'd found himself standing in a legal minefield. It was best to listen to someone who knew how to navigate it.
Or he might not make it through.
Chapter 3
"Ms. Harter, can you please state your full name?"
Kalyna smiled calmly at the female lawyer, a major from the Office of Special Investigations, who'd been assigned to prosecute Luke Trussell.
She'd spoken to Rani Ogitani on the phone a few times, but this was their first face-to-face meeting. The woman seemed brisk and efficient--
emotionally distant but certainly capable.
"Kalyna Boyka Harter."
Major Ogitani typed the date--Tuesday, June 30--and Kalyna's name into her laptop, which rested on the large rectangular table fil ing most of the on-base conference room. "Thank you. And your birth date?"
"May 18, 1983," she said, going through the details as she had in an earlier meeting with Ava Bixby. Kalyna wished Ava could just send major Ogitani a copy of the whole account, but she knew it didn't work that way.
She had to explain it all again.
The prosecutor shifted her attention from her computer screen. "So you're twenty-six years old."
"That's correct."
"And were you born in the United States?"
"No, in Ukraine. My twin sister, Tati, and I were adopted by an American couple living in Phoenix when we were six-years-old. Their marriage fell apart shortly after--within months--and neither one of them wanted to keep us. So we were passed off to the neighbors."
"The neighbors."
"That's right. A mortician and his wife."
The clacking of the keyboard again. Despite what Kalyna had told Ava Bixby at The Last Stand during their initial conference, Major Ogitani seemed eager to do a thorough job. But even with a competent prosecutor, it wouldn't be easy to get a conviction against Captain Trussell. He had an impeccable service record, or so she'd been told since lodging her complaint.
"This was done legally?"
"Yes, but at first we were just foster kids."
"What precipitated the original adoption?"
Kalyna set her jaw so she could talk about the past without flinching.
"My real mother could no longer afford to feed us. She felt we'd have a better chance here." In reality, Talia Kozak had wanted to be free to marry the man she'd fallen in love with, a man who refused to have anything to do with her two children, which he saw only as mouths to feed. Talia had gotten rid of them for him, and she'd done it in a way that made her some money on the deal. Kalyna had heard from her once, several weeks after she'd sent a letter pleading to come home. Her mother had said it was impossible, that her new husband would never al ow it, and that was that. It was her second adoptive mother who'd mentioned the money the first couple had paid.
The sympathy that flickered in Major Ogitani's eyes both angered and relieved Kalyna. She understood the relief. She needed to elicit sympathy, needed Major Ogitani of all people to believe her. The anger was more complicated.
"I see," the prosecutor said. "So...you were raised by this mortician and his wife in Phoenix from that time forward?"
"Actually, we moved from Phoenix to Mesa in what would've been my eighth-grade year, if I'd been attending school."
"You didn't go to school?" Major Ogitani seemed all business.
Removed. Mechanical. But surprise leaked through her voice with this question.
"I was home-schooled."
"What were the reasons behind that?"
Control. And privacy. Her mother didn't want any teachers or administrators nosing around, telling her what she could or couldn't do. "My mother said she was afraid the other kids would be a bad influence."
"I see," she said slowly. "So...did you have friends?"
"Just my twin sister. We owned a mortuary on a fairly busy street, and we lived above it. It wasn't as if there were other houses with children close by."
Ogitani didn't approve. Kalyna could see that in her body language.
"So your adoptive mother did the teaching?"
"It was more like independent study, especially in the later grades.
We met with a teacher once a week who checked our work and gave us new assignments."
"Did you like being home-schooled?"
"I hated it." But it kept her from sharing information with others, from socializing with them and inviting them into their home, which was what her mother had wanted. And as long as they met certain curriculum requirements, the state didn't interfere.
"Why?"
"If you knew my mother, you'd understand."
Ogitani's voice became brisk again, almost as if Kalyna was already on the witness stand. "So coming to America didn't improve your situation."
Only if the major considered hell an improvement. "That depends on how you look at it."
"What do you mean?"
"We had enough to eat. We had clothes to wear."
"But..."
"It wasn't an easy life. That's why I joined the air force, to escape."
She remained purposely vague. Her story would be more credible and cause a stronger reaction if the information had to be pulled from her. She'd learned that from experience.
"You felt the need to 'escape'?" Ogitani rested her forearms on the table. "Why is that?"
Kalyna purposely avoided her gaze. "My home life was...unusual."