“Where did Leslie get the weapon?” Megan forced her mind to the present task. A girl’s life hung in the balance, and she didn’t know if she was physically or emotionally up to the task of trying to talk her down. Her hectic schedule during the days since the disappearances—since Chris’s abduction, and God help me for feeling that way—weighed on her heavily, exhausted her. Almost overcome from worrying about the teen charges still left to her, she felt like a zombie, except for the sharp pain of her youngest son’s absence and the uncertainty about Joey’s whereabouts.
“She has a government-issued Colt .45 that belongs to her father,” Kerby answered. “Sergeant Hollister registered the weapon with the Provost Marshal’s office.”
“You haven’t seen the weapon?”
“Private Collins did, but he didn’t get a good look. The Hollister girl screamed at him to leave or she would shoot him; he left. He thought it was probably the .45.”
“Did Tori see the weapon?”
Kerby shook his head. Rain dripped from his helmet brim. “She saw it, but she doesn’t know what it is. No familiarity with firearms. She’s never taken any of the weapons classes offered on base. Not like the Hollister girl.”
“Leslie Hollister has taken firearms training?”
“Yes, ma’am. Top of the class.”
So Leslie knows how to use her father’s pistol. That thought was as ugly and brutish as a hunk of pig iron. She knew just how ugly that was. Megan’s father had blacksmithed as a hobby.
“Does Private Collins think she’d have shot him if he hadn’t left the house?”
Kerby hesitated.
“There’s no foul here, Corporal,” Megan said. “I could ask Private Collins, but that would take time we might not have. I just want to get a feel for things before I proceed. Leslie’s a juvenile. Let’s worry about taking care of her first, then what impact your reports might have on her and her family.”
The military was all about paperwork, Megan knew. In her job as a family counselor, she stayed enmeshed in files, forms, and followups. All of those reports remained with career military men and women throughout their service. And with their kids.
Kerby glanced at Megan. “Private Collins was convinced she would have shot him, ma’am.”
“What about Tori McKean?”
“She was glad to get out of the house.”
An MP opened the door of the Jeep that had switched its lights on and off. He touched the brim of his helmet with the barrel of his assault rifle in an abbreviated salute and shone his light into the vehicle. “Mrs. Gander.”
“Private,” Megan replied. She glanced inside the jeep.
Tori McKean huddled in the passenger seat under a man’s leather jacket. Her blonde hair, normally fussed over for hours, hung in disarray. Black mascara tracked her cheeks in thin trails from bloodshot blue eyes.
She was about the most frightened seventeen-year-old Megan had ever seen. In the last five minutes, she amended. Terrified kids had filled her office for the last two days.
“Tori,” Megan said in a normal tone.
The girl squinted against the bright light, raising a hand to shield her streaked face. “Mrs. Gander?”
Megan closed her hand over the private’s flashlight and gently pushed the light away. Getting the message, the private shut the beam off.
“That’s right, Tori,” Megan said. “I’m here to help.” If I can. Lord, help me help. Help me stay calm and help me think.
“I’m afraid Leslie’s going to hurt herself, Mrs. Gander.”
“No.” Megan kept her voice calm and firm. “We’re not going to let her do that.”
“I don’t think you can stop her. She’s not herself.”
“I’m going to try.” Megan reached out and took Tori’s hands into her own. They were cold as ice.
“She’s not herself.” Tori sniffled. “It’s all this … this … ” She shook her head helplessly. “Nobody knows what’s going on. Leslie’s mom disappeared, and she doesn’t know if her dad is alive or dead.”
“I know. I’ve been talking to her privately and in group.” During the last two days, there had been little opportunity for private counseling sessions. The disappearances, the outbreak of war in Turkey, and the chaos that seemed to consume the world had affected all of them. Megan had started to schedule private sessions again, but there simply weren’t enough hours in the day. On top of that, half the base’s counselors had gone missing.
“She’s going to kill herself, Mrs. Gander.” Tori clutched Megan’s arms. The girl’s hands knotted into white-knuckled fists. The whirling amber lights atop the sawhorses striped her face, flickering into and out of existence.
“Why?” Megan asked.
“She’s confused. She’s all mixed up.” Tori cried and hiccupped at the same time.
With the heaviness of the rain, Megan hadn’t caught the smoke stink that clung to Tori’s blonde tresses. “Why is Leslie confused?”
“She just is!” Tori drew her hands back and wrapped her arms around herself. “Aren’t you confused? I mean, you lost your little boy and everything! You can’t just ignore that!”
Bright hot pain lanced through Megan. She almost turned away from the accusation in the girl’s eyes. Instead, Megan mustered the strength to push the pain aside. For right now, Chris is out of reach. Concentrate on those you can save. Right now, these girls need you.
Megan hunkered down beside the Jeep, letting Tori have the high ground. Teens were used to adults leaning over them, browbeating them.
“You’ve been smoking tonight,” Megan said. She kept her tone flat and deliberately neutral.
“It’s incense.” Tori’s eyes wouldn’t meet Megan’s. “That’s all. Just incense. Leslie was burning incense.”
“That’s not incense.” Rain drummed against Megan’s shoulders, but the slicker she wore kept her from getting drenched. Her hair, though, was a different story. She felt it plastered against her head. “You were smoking.”
Tori looked like she was going to argue more, but she gave up the fight and cried like a child. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
MPs had caught Tori with drug paraphernalia before. Megan knew from
