AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t had our installation food.” He chuckled.
“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” Melanie replied. She followed him down the two escalators, out the door, through the quad, and then down another hall to another quad that led to a cafeteria adjacent to the commissary.
He handed her a plastic tray as they made their way down the selection of hot food. “I know it may all look the same, but there’s a difference.” He pointed to one tray. “That is chicken with brown sauce.” He turned to another one. “That is pork with brown sauce. Yes, the same brown sauce.”
Melanie noticed everything seemed to be covered in brown sauce. “Can we bring our own lunch?”
“Told ya.” Gonzalez handed several bills to the cashier. “Newbie. On me.”
“Welcome.” The petite woman nodded.
“Thanks.” Melanie picked up her tray and followed the airman to a table where several other people were sitting. “Gang, this is Melanie Drake.”
Greetings were mumbled through half-chewed food.
“Call me MelDrake.”
The usual questions made their way around the table. “Where are you from?” “Where did you go to school?” Small talk.
Melanie sensed a different sort of camaraderie here. Everyone seated had been at Anacostia for a few years. Quantico and Glynco had a lot of transitional people. It was hard to get close to people, especially knowing you weren’t going to be there very long. She thought back to her second and final date with Wayne Howell. Maybe that was his M.O. He knew women would be leaving at some point, and he’d gladly fill in the gap of affection, wanted or otherwise. She thanked her lucky stars again. What if that ranger hadn’t shown up when he did? She flashed herself forward to the here and now. Gonzalez was the first to get up. “Come on.” He signaled to Melanie. They returned the trays and walked back to the library.
Riding up the escalator, Melanie turned to Gonzalez. “So what happens next?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Do I spend the rest of the day in the library? Is there a class I’m supposed to attend?”
“Yes. And yes. Keep doing your own research. It’s forensics, remember?”
Melanie chuckled. “I see. I’m supposed to come up with a procedure. Then I’ll be given an assignment.”
“Correct. You are pretty smart.” He remembered what the Captain had said about her high recommendations. “You can stay as long as you want to or need to. But tomorrow, you’ll report to the classroom at oh-eight-hundred-hours.”
“Got it.” She gave him a thumbs-up.
He turned to leave, and Melanie spoke again. “Airman?”
He swiveled. “Yes?”
“Thank you. Really. It was nice of you to be so hospitable.”
“Yes, ma’am. Just doing my job.”
Melanie knew he’d done a little more than that. He’d showed her kindness. He could have operated strictly by the book. There would be no “getting to know you” stuff. Simple, mundane conversation. No, Gonzalez was a good egg.
Melanie gave him a big smile, her blue eyes wide. “I think I’m going to like it here.” She bit her lip. “Except for maybe the brown food.”
Gonzalez gave her a two-finger wave. “Oh-eight-hundred.”
“Roger that.”
Melanie decided the next case would be Ted Bundy. After her encounter with Wayne, she wanted to test out her theory that he could be a psychopath. They are very good at being psychopathic. Probably why they’re called psychopaths. She chuckled to herself. She saw there was a copy of The Stranger Beside Me by true-crime writer Ann Rule. It was bound into a larger binder. An autobiographical account of her friendship with Ted Bundy, it demonstrated how a person could be in the company of a monster and never know who they were really dealing with. Her story described a sensitive coworker at a crisis hotline. A man who walked her to her car at the end of a shift. A man she trusted with her children. It was the summer of 1973 in Seattle. Ted had quit his job at the hotline when women began to be brutally murdered at the rate of one a month. A few eyewitnesses gave the police a good description that gave Ann the chills. She couldn’t believe it could be Ted. He moved to Utah, and suddenly the murders stopped. They stopped in Seattle, but Bundy was continuing to kill in other parts of the country. When he was finally arrested, he confessed to the murders of thirty-four women across seven states.
Melanie had read enough. She checked the clock. It was past six. No wonder her stomach was grumbling. Or was it churning? She gathered her notes, went back to her cubby, grabbed her tote, and headed home. The traffic was a bear. She phoned her mother to let her know she would be late for dinner, something that would become a regular occurrence.
“Don’t worry, dear. You can pop it in the microwave,” her mother reassured her.
“You still use that thing?” Melanie asked. She was not a fan of a device that could generate intermolecular friction. Even though the machines themselves were safe, who knew what they were really doing to your broccoli? And by the time scientists found out, it would be too late. She’d rather wait an additional ten minutes and use the stove.
