Chapter Eleven

I was starting to get used to the C-130s and 141s that were constantly flying overhead. Not to mention the artillery booming on the shooting range near Fort Bragg. I'd begun to think of the artillery as death knells for Ellis Cooper.

After a quick lunch out on Bragg Boulevard, Sampson and I had an appointment with a captain named Jacobs. Donald Jacobs was with CID, the Army's Criminal Investigation Division. He had been assigned to the murder case from the beginning and had been a key, damaging witness at the trial.

I kept noticing that the roads inside Fort Bragg were well trafficked by civilian vehicles. Even now, anyone could get in here and not be noticed. I drove to the section of the base where the main administration buildings were located. CID was in a redbrick building that was more modern and sterile-looking than the attractive structures from the Twenties and Thirties.

Captain Jacobs met us in his office. He wore a red plaid sport shirt and khakis rather than a uniform. He seemed relaxed and cordial, a large, physically fit man in his late forties. “How can I help?” he asked. “I know that Ellis Cooper has people who believe in him. He helped a lot of guys when he was a DI. I also know that the two of you have good reputations as homicide detectives up in Washington. So where do we go from there?”

“Just tell us what you know about the murders,” Sampson said. We hadn't talked about it, but I sensed he needed to be the lead detective here on the base.

Captain Jacobs nodded. “All right. I'm going to tape our talk if you don't mind. I'm afraid I think that he did it, Detectives. I believe that Sergeant Cooper murdered those three women. I don't pretend to understand why. I especially don't understand the blue paint that was used on the bodies. Maybe you can figure that one out, Dr. Cross. I also know that most people at Bragg haven't gotten over the brutality and senselessness of these murders.”