“Enough,” Megan replied.
Benbow gave her that familiar earnest look that reminded her he was nearly ten years younger than she was.
“Nearly enough,” she amended.
“I think we’re talking more in the not nearly enough range,” Benbow said. “In fact, I believe we’re more in the red-line range here. The drop-dead-can’t-make-another-move red-line range.”
“I’ll get more rest when things slow down.” Megan glanced at her watch, hoping Benbow would take the hint.
“Things,” Benbow said in a measured voice, “are not going to slow down soon. If they ever slow down again. You’re going to have to slow down.”
“Look, Lieutenant—”
“Doug. Please. I’m trying to talk to you as a person, Megan. As a friend. Maybe a few days of knowing you don’t seem like a lot, but they’ve been extremely hectic days. I’ve seen you at your best.” Benbow paused. “And I’ve seen you at your worst.”
Megan knew that. Sometimes in order to talk to her about the impending military court investigation, Benbow had ended up helping her prepare meals, do laundry, and babysit. He’d wedged snippets of conversation between her counseling sessions and all the emergencies that seemed to be hers to deal with. He’d also, on more than one occasion, gotten roped into making supply runs for her.
“You are a friend. I appreciate what you’re doing,” Megan said. But what you’re doing barely even touches the big picture of what’s going on. She didn’t say that because she didn’t want to take away from any of the tremendous effort Doug had made on her behalf to get the charges dropped. She knew he’d been doing that. And not only because she’d signed off on the paperwork.
Benbow sighed. “We’ve reached the point where you’ve got to do more than just appreciate what I’m doing. You’re going to have to start listening and acting on the advice and guidance I’m giving. You’ve got a lot riding on this, Megan.”
“I wasn’t derelict in my duty that night,” Megan said. She still remembered how cold the air had been on top of that building as she’d tried to talk Gerry Fletcher down. She’d never really realized how long a four-story drop was until that night. The boy had gone up because he’d blamed himself for the trouble his father was in. He was wrong, of course, but he’d been following the program of self-blame his father had instilled in him as a child.
He was still a child, Megan told herself. He was only eleven years old. Barely old enough to understand all the guilt and persecution his father had heaped on him, and way too young to carry it.
“I know you weren’t derelict,” Benbow said. “You were protecting Gerry Fletcher from his father.”
“That’s right,” Megan said. “If this … situation … goes to court, I can bury Boyd Fletcher in reports citing his abuse of his son.”
“Fine,” Benbow said. “Now that I have your full and complete attention, let’s roll with that. Let me take the opposing counsel’s viewpoint for a moment. Please bear with me.”
“I can do the opposing counsel’s position for you: Why didn’t I make recommendations that Gerry Fletcher be taken from the home?” Megan frowned. That question kept coming up during their discussions.
Benbow nodded. “Exactly.”
“I don’t see what difference that makes.”
“Because the opposing military counsel will use your failure to act to his own advantage,” Benbow explained. “And to Boyd Fletcher’s. Which will enable Fletcher’s attorney to use that information as well.”
After hearing how Trimble had twisted everything she’d said in his office around to suit his own needs, Megan suddenly found herself more attentive than usual to Benbow’s words. Over the past few days, she had convinced herself that nothing would come of the provost marshal’s investigation. After all, why single out Gerry’s disappearance from among the millions of disappearances worldwide? But the threat of legal action hadn’t gone away. It was still headed right at her, with a rumble that was starting to resemble that of an inbound freight train.
Benbow hadn’t told her she was in denial about the situation, and she didn’t really think she was, but the possibility of getting fired from her position as counselor or even jailed because the act was directed against a military person just hadn’t seemed real to her. The kids she helped needed that help. Surely the base commander had to realize that.
“How can he use that?” Megan asked.
“You’re being investigated for being derelict in your duty. If you take the stand and talk about Boyd Fletcher’s abuse of his son, or allow documents concerning those events to surface during the hearing, the opposing counsel is going to use them to show that you’ve got a history of being derelict in your duty. He’s going to convince the jury that you should have acted prior to the night in question. He’s going to say that your dereliction of duty started long before the night you climbed up onto that building with Gerry Fletcher.”
“The decision to remove a child from a home has some heavy repercussions for the family as well as the counselor. I felt that taking Gerry from his family would have been more detrimental to him than letting him stay.”
“More detrimental than getting beaten?”
“There had been only one incident at that time.”
“But others followed?”
“Yes. By then,” Megan said, remembering the situation with helpless frustration, “Gerry had locked into a pattern of lying to protect his father. I would have had to tear down his stories before I could have helped him.”
“Wouldn’t that have been the right thing to do?”
“I would have lost his trust. And, yes, that would have affected everything.”
“Was the situation at Gerry’s home then a matter of life or death?”
“I didn’t think so.”
“What about the night in question? The night you willfully didn’t tell Boyd Fletcher his son was in the hospital.”
“I wasn’t sure then, but I knew something had to be done. Things had been escalating, but a lot of time had passed since the last violent incident. That night
