Free Silent Witness by Lindsay McKenna Page A

“You’ve got an innocent face just like Susan Kane did. What is it about some women that they look too vulnerable to make the grade?”
    Ellen grinned. “I might look that way, but life goes on. All humans are vulnerable, not just certain women. I choose to remain open and not closed up. It’s a choice.”
    With a groan, Cochrane stood up. “I reckon I’m not in a philosophical frame of mind.” He gave her a quick smile. “Come on, we’ve got work to do. Best to leave unexploded land mines alone, I always say.” There was still a lingering darkness in Ellen’s glorious green eyes, and he wanted to discover why. His sixth sense told him getting too personal was a dangerous thing right now.
    Feeling an unexpected warmth in her chest, Ellen decided that being with this JAG officer lifted her spirits. His soft Southern accent, those gray eyes that could turn from a warm look of concern to that of an eagle ready to swoop on a quarry, amazed her. “You mean, work on Susan’s case?”
    â€œYes. Now there’s an enigma. What do you think about Susan Kane?” he asked.
    â€œYou want my professional opinion?” Ellen rose and picked up her knapsack and briefcase.
    â€œYeah. I’m bugged by the fact she chose to die in her dress white uniform. If she committed suicide, I think it’s some kind of symbolic last gesture, but darned if I know what it means.”
    Ellen followed him out the door. “White is seen as a sign of purity and innocence,” she suggested, lengthening her stride to keep up with him.
    â€œWhen the fleet sails into San Diego, I’ll just bet the city fathers don’t view all those horny sailors, dressed in their white liberty uniforms, as symbols of purity and innocence,” Jim drawled, stopping at the desk to pick up the keys for their assigned car.
    Laughing, Ellen said, “There are many ways to look at the color white, Mr. Cochrane. Susan could have chosen any set of clothes to die in, if it was suicide. Why dress whites, then? Why not her nightgown, or her favorite pair of sweats?”
    â€œCome on, let’s mosey over to our office pool car. We’ve got places to go.”
    As Cochrane put the car into gear and headed out into traffic, he glanced over at Ellen. “What else have you got up your therapist’s sleeve about Kane?”
    â€œI’m ignoring your sailor analogy, Mr. Cochrane,” Ellen said, chuckling.
    â€œI thought it was a pretty good remark.”
    She grinned. “So did I.” Taking a deep breath, she got serious. “Maybe Susan really loved the Navy and put on her dress whites as a way to honor her career?”
    â€œIf her death was a suicide, usually it’s done over a career screwup or some personal emotional disappointment,” Cochrane conjectured. “I can’t see her wearing her dress whites if that was the case. She’d be deeply shamed.”
    Ellen considered the possibilities. “Where are we going, anyway?”
    â€œBack to Kane’s condo.”
    â€œUgh.” She automatically pressed her hand against her abdomen.
    â€œYou’re going pale on me,” he warned.
    â€œMy stomach’s rolling.”
    â€œThe body’s gone,” he reassured her in a low voice.“All we’re going to do is snoop, see if anything else catches our interest. The police crime scene team is done with their work. I want to get in before the moving van arrives to cart off her things.”
    Ellen gulped unsteadily. “I’m glad Susan won’t be there. I’ve been so upset by seeing her in that bed. I had awful dreams last night.” Ellen touched the skin beneath her eyes. “I know I have circles here.”
    Driving in bright California sunshine made Cochrane squint. He pulled on a pair of aviator sunglasses. “I’m not surprised. The first time I saw a dead body at a scene, I ran for the bathroom