Brandy had gone home to change into her uniform, and then they set out to conduct interviews. Brandy had suggested starting with whom she believed to be the latest victim’s live-in boyfriend. When they reached the small row house, Brandy knocked on the door, and it wasn’t long before it was answered. A soldier in his late twenties answered quickly and with an expression of concern. He took one look at the MP band on Brandy’s arm, and his concern became fear. “Oh no.” He said shaking his head sadly.
“Sgt. Ian Drake?” Brandy asked.
“Yes.”
“Can we ask you a few questions about Sgt. Emert?”
“Something’s happened hasn’t it? I knew something was wrong when I came home, and she wasn’t here. Is she dead?” He asked trying not to cry.
“I’m afraid so.” Brandy said with sympathy. “Her body was fo
