Lonnie Burton stood in front of Wingate’s desk at formal attention.
Sitting in a chair, leaning against the wall beside the single window adorning the office, Jake eyed the good-looking, affable mechanic with a sympathetic eye. He didn’t believe Burton was the squadron’s mad killer. But on the other hand he could not be positive. Whoever had killed Higgins had to have been a large and very powerful individual. One just doesn’t casually cut off a man’s head with a bayonet as a weapon. Further, the murderer was a c***k shot with a rifle. God knew everyone in the squadron had seen, on more than one occasion, Lonnie Burton’s deft handling of a rifle. Clouding the issue was the reality that, on several occasions, Lonnie’s whereabouts had him away from the squadron’s immediate surroundings. The
