Person of Interest. Debby Giusti

storm. Maybe something else. Like raised voices or a crash against the wall.”

      Natalie continued to chronicle what had provoked her call. “I heard voices that escalated into a heated argument, although I couldn’t make out what was being said.”

      “Could you determine if the voices were male or female?”

      “Not really, although one of them sounded far more aggressive and seemingly male.”

      “Seemingly?”

      “It was deeper, raised and more insistent. The argument kept escalating. When something crashed against the wall, I immediately thought of domestic abuse.”

      “How many times did something crash against the wall?”

      “Two times, maybe three.”

      He pursed his lips. “You’re not sure?”

      “Two hits. Both followed by a scream. I knew something bad was happening.”

      “Did you pound on the wall or call out to see if anyone needed help?”

      “Not at that point.” She raised her brow as if worried she hadn’t reacted appropriately. “Do you think I should have?”

      “Ma’am, I can’t tell you what you should have done.”

      She sighed. “I doubt they would have heard me.”

      “Then what happened?”

      “A series of thumps sounded down the stairs. I knew someone had fallen or had been pushed.”

      “Is that when you called the police?”

      “First I went outside and banged on their door.”

      “Did anyone respond to your knock?”

      “Regrettably, no.” She let out a breath. “Common sense took over when I realized how vulnerable I was, especially since I had Sofia and her safety to think about. And I needed to get back here as soon as possible.”

      “Did you feel threatened at any time?”

      “Not personally, just upset that something tragic had happened.”

      “What did you think had happened, ma’am?”

      “That the woman had been pushed down the stairs, which seems to be what did happen.”

      “That’s one possibility.”

      “Surely you don’t think she slipped and fell?”

      “Nothing has been ruled out at this point.”

      Natalie sat up straighter and squared her slender shoulders. “You work with him, don’t you?”

      “Him?”

      “Mason Yates. The husband. Isn’t the husband usually the most likely suspect?”

      Everett tensed. “There will be an investigation before anyone is charged, if this even was a crime. We’re not sure Special Agent Yates was in the house at the time Mrs. Yates fell.”

      “I heard him.”

      “You heard a voice—” he glanced at his notes “—a seemingly male voice—through an insulated wall.”

      “You don’t believe me?”

      “I don’t disbelieve you. I’m just getting information. What happened after you knocked on the Yateses’ door?”

      “I ran back here and called the military police, and then I waited for someone to arrive, which you did.”

      “Did you hear any other noise from the house?”

      “No.

      “Did you look out the window?”

      “I glanced at the street. I had checked the doors to insure they were locked earlier and then relocked the front door when I came back inside.”

      “Did you hear a door close anywhere in the area? What about a car engine or a car door slamming?”

      “I heard nothing. The storm had passed, and even the rain had stopped by the time you arrived.”

      “Did Wanda Jones provide information about her neighbors?”

      “Only Mrs. Yates’s first name and phone number. But I recognized Special Agent Yates.”

      “How so?”

      “I worked for him in Germany for the last six months of my assignment there.”

      Everett bit down on his jaw to hold himself in check. He hadn’t expected the connection. Willing his voice to remain calm, he asked, “At CID Headquarters in Vilseck?”

      She nodded. “They were short staffed. I worked as a personnel clerk and was brought in to handle paperwork.”

      “What was your relationship with Mason Yates in Germany?”

      “We didn’t have a relationship. He was a CID agent. I was an E-5 personnel clerk.”

      “Did you meet socially?”

      “Of course not.”

      “Did you work long hours or work together on the weekends?”

      She cocked her brow. “I’m not sure where this is headed.”

      “I’m just interested in how well you knew Agent Yates.”

      “I knew him only as a CID agent, not socially. We hardly talked unless he needed paperwork dealing with personnel.”

      “Did you know Mrs. Yates?”

      “She came to the office once, as I recall. I was introduced to her.”

      “Agent Yates introduced you?’

      “I believe so, although I can’t say for sure.”

      “You don’t remember?”

      “I met a lot of people in Germany. I don’t remember every situation.”

      “Did you realize the Yateses lived next door to the Joneses when you accepted the babysitting position?”

      She shook her head. “I didn’t even know they had transferred to Fort Rickman.”

      “No one notified you from Germany when Special Agent Yates was reassigned?”

      “Perhaps you didn’t hear me.” She lifted her chin. “I wasn’t aware the Yateses had left Europe.”

      “I understand.” He checked his notes. “You mentioned that you couldn’t determine specifically if the voices were male or female. Is that correct?”

      “It is.” She hesitated and raised her brow. “Although one of the voices sounded male. It could have been Mason Yates.”

      “Could have been or was?”

      “I... I’m not sure.”

      Everett closed his notebook. He didn’t know what to think about the nanny. She had called in a domestic violence dispute when she talked to the military police, yet according to Mason’s own account, he had been running on a track in the training area. Somewhat unusual to do PT at night, but physical training was important to the military. If Mason liked to run at night, so be it. The track was lit, and a number of soldiers took advantage of the cool evenings to exercise. Video cameras were posted in the area, which would confirm his alibi.

      Everett had checked Mason’s cell phone log and found a call from his wife, just as the distraught husband had claimed when he’d leaped from his car and raced toward his house. The wife’s cell log also confirmed that a call had been made, a call that Mason said had spurred him to hurry home.

      The husband seemed to be telling the truth, not that Natalie Frazier wasn’t. More than likely, she had heard