Guardian by Catherine Mann Read Free Book Online Page A

let the kids misunderstand. He didn’t want either child to get matchmaking ideas.
    His daughter was too fragile to take another disappointment right now. Sophie needed to hear just why it was so important. The sooner, the better. But not here where the kids could overhear.
    He would broach the subject in private. And if he could wrangle some time to address the subject of Caleb Tate’s trial? Then all the better.
    *    *    *
    After tossing and turning all night, then court all day, the last thing she needed was extra paperwork in the office. At least the building was quiet after hours. She would make it up to Brice with a mother-son video-game tournament on Saturday—thanks to her military trainingon the firing range, she could actually hold her own, something her son liked to brag about. She pushed aside questions about what David and his daughter did for bonding time on the weekends.
    Focus on work. The man had already stolen enough of her concentration this week.
    Sophie sat at her desk, searching through Captain Caleb Tate’s deposition for something she must have missed. She’d already reviewed Berg’s deposition and statements made by others who’d flown with Tate that day.
    An empty to-go box held the stain of the taco salad she’d quickly downed for supper, along with two cups of coffee. A fresh cup of java steamed beside a photo of her son winning last year’s science fair.
    Right now, her case straddled the fence. Tate had chosen a jury. Most likely betting on having another aviator on the trial who would sympathize with him.
    Granted, for her, the burden of proof wasn’t as tough in a military court. The rules of evidence weren’t as strict as in a civilian trial. That didn’t mean she could—or ever would—slack off.
    She could read the depositions on the computer, but for this kind of brainstorming, she preferred printouts and government contracts, using colored pencils and highlighters to draw connections and graph notes.
    Thumbing through pages, she scanned past the questions about his name. His address. His time at the location. She paused at the part about his job information.
    CAMPBELL: State your occupation for the record.
    TATE: I am an AC-130 FCO—fire control officer.
    CAMPBELL: On that day, what type of sortie were you flying?
    TATE: We were flying an operational test mission of the new cannon mounting system.
    CAMPBELL: And what does that entail?
    TATE: The current gun mounting system on the AC-130 is from the Vietnam era. It requires a lot of maintenance to keep it running and a lot of crewmen to fire it. The system we were testing updated the stabilization gyros and aiming systems of the gun and took tasks that were manual and made them automatic.
    Sophie reached for her coffee and sipped, shutting out the echoes of footsteps in the hall as people left for the day.
    CAMPBELL: Such as?
    TATE: The old gun was loaded by crewmen opening the breech and jamming a new shell in. The new system has an autoloader.
    CAMPBELL: What kind of round are we talking about here?
    TATE: It’s a cannon shell.
    CAMPBELL: What’s the difference between that and a bullet?
    At that point in the deposition, Tate’s face had gone tight, his irritation showing through. Anger could be a good thing, since it made people slip up. She hoped maybe there was something in this next part she may have missed in earlier reviews.
    TATE: You don’t know the difference between a bullet and a cannon shell?
    CAMPBELL: For the record.
    TATE: The difference is a bullet kills with kinetics and a cannon shell blows things up.
    Then, Tate’s lawyer had silenced him, reminding the young captain to keep his cool.
    Did he have a quick temper?
    She jotted “Quick to anger?” in the margin.
    CAMPBELL: On that day, the system under test fired a round that landed off the range, causing damage to a house and injury to a six-year-old boy. Correct?
    TATE: That is correct.
    CAMPBELL: Describe to me your actions from the firing