KD took a sip of lukewarm broth. “Get what over with? My career?” She said it as a joke.
He didn’t smile. Probably used to being snarked at.
He let out a deep breath and rested one of those farmer’s hands on the butt of the pistol holstered at his hip. She wondered how he got his index finger through the trigger guard. “I’m not trying to jam you up, Lieutenant. I see no fault in what you did. But you were right in thinking CENTCOM is looking for a way to make this go away as soon as possible.”
She moved on to the cranberry juice. “And they figure to use me?”
“I already told them you killed Farid in self-defense.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Some might see your going to Farid’s as a violation of DOD policy.”
She set the cup down so hard juice sloshed over the side. “But I explained that. We went as a courtesy to a distraught mother.”
“Whose idea was it to go? Yours, or the Captain’s?”
“Mouton’s. But I backed her.” KD wiped the spilled juice from her fingers, then slapped the napkin back onto the tray. “This is ridiculous! You know what Farid had planned for the kid, don’t you? An eight-year-old boy. It’s disgusting.”
“I agree. If Mouton hadn’t already decided on going, would you have suggested it?”
KD was the one who had made the biggest mistakes—not checking Farid for a gun, not going back to the front room when the argument escalated to shouts. Why did he keep asking about Nataleah? “Maybe not. I’ll admit, I was worried about the policy of looking the other way in such matters. But I’d like to think I’d have done the moral thing. Farid was an animal. He needed to be stopped.”
“I agree with that, too. I just question your captain’s reasoning.”
“She was a good soldier!”
“I’m not disputing that.”
“Then why are you trying to drag her reputation through the mud?” KD was shaking now. Furious that her captain and friend wasn’t here to defend herself. “I will never say anything against Captain Mouton,” she said in a voice that shook with fury. “No matter what you throw at me!”
“I can’t believe this!” He stomped away, then whirled and came back. Frustration poured off of him like sweat. KD could almost smell it. “Captain Mouton doesn’t need you to defend her,” he said in clipped tones. “She did what she felt she had to do. I respect that. But now it’s time for you to do the right thing and tell the truth.”
“I am telling the truth!”
“Then try telling it with fewer words and less emotion!”
Sexist pig. KD pressed a hand against the throbbing in her side and reminded herself to stop shouting. A nurse came up to the window, a questioning look on her face. KD waved her away.
Obviously trying to tamp down his irritation, Murdock said with tight lips, “If you’re ever called for an Article 32 hearing, Lieutenant, I advise you to get some coaching. A lot of coaching.”
“Go to hell. I’m done talking to—”
“Then try listening for a change! I’m trying to help you, here. You go ballistic like this before a judge or an Article 32 panel, you not only risk a big blot on your record, but you could be dismissed from service altogether. Is that what you want?”
The words hit KD like a blow. Was he serious? A dismissal was the commissioned officer’s equivalent of an enlisted soldier’s dishonorable discharge. Would the army really do that to her?
Murdock took a long deep breath and let it out. Some of the anger seemed to go with it. “Look. I’m not trying to throw blame on you or your captain,” he told her. “But you’re the only surviving witness to what happened that night. It’s important that you understand the kind of scrutiny you’ll face. I’m only suggesting that when you’re questioned—and you will be, I’m afraid—you don’t give out more information than necessary. Stay on point and give simple answers. Don’t try to sidestep anything, and don’t get defensive. Just tell the truth.”
The fight went out of her. He was right. If she didn’t get ahold of herself, she could ruin everything. “You really think they’ll convene an Article 32 hearing?”
He shrugged and looked away. “I doubt they’ll like my version of the facts. They’ll probably want to ask you the pertinent questions themselves.”
“But we did nothing wrong. We just went there to talk to him.”
“I know.”
“If you report everything I’ve told you, and they still convene a hearing, does that mean they’ve already decided I’ve done something wrong?”
He shook his head. “An Article 32 isn’t a court-martial. It’s an inquiry into the facts to decide if any charges should be brought. Like what a civilian grand jury does, except in this case, you have a lawyer with you and you can question witnesses. If you don’t lose your temper, and answer the panel’s questions calmly with short, truthful responses, they’ll probably decide not to charge you.”
“Questions like what? And how do I stay calm when I’m being accused of something I didn’t do?”
“Not accused. Questioned. For instance: Whose idea was it to go to Farid’s?—Answer: Captain Mouton’s.
“Did the Captain order you to go?—No.
“Then why did you?—Female soldiers are not supposed to leave the inner forward operating base alone at night.
“Did you knowingly disregard the DOD noninterference policy?—No. We’re the cultural support team. Our primary mission is to offer help and support to Afghan women in hopes they will aid us in identifying local insurgents and insurgent activity. It’s a fine line. We work hard not to cross it.
“Then why did you confront Captain Farid?—A local woman told us Farid had taken her son. We agreed to talk to the captain in hopes he would release the boy. We didn’t anticipate Farid would be combative and high on cocaine.
“Who fired the first shot?—Captain Farid. After he shot and killed Captain Mouton, he shot me in the back. I
