Acts of Honor (38 page)

He looked from the water to her. “I’ve thought about this, and I’m convinced you’re right. The degree of damage depends on the depth of emotion engaged. The more intense the emotion he taps into, the more power he has over you, and the greater amount of damage you sustain.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Family is my Achilles’ heel. It always has been. I’ve wanted my own family for so long, but with what happened to Brenda, well, I couldn’t have one.”

“Honey, I see where you’re going with this, but I don’t think Brenda would want or expect you to deny yourself a family because hers was torn apart.”

“I know.” Sara rocked her cheek against his shoulder. “But I felt that it wasn’t right for me to have what she had lost. It sounds crazy, but that’s how I’ve looked at this for a long time. Anyway, I called Brenda this morning. I’m meeting her and Lisa tonight, to hash through it.”

“So you’ve decided to tell her about David.”

“Knowing I might not come out of IWPT able to tell her, I have no choice.”

“You always have a choice, Sara.”

“Then, my choice is to tell her. She’s his wife. She has a right to know. If it were you, I’d move heaven and earth to find out the truth. If I did anything less, I couldn’t live with myself. She loves him.”

“And you love her.”

“Of course. She’s my sister.” Sara stared at the rippling water. “I trust her, too. She’ll handle this discreetly because she’ll know indiscretion could harm David and Lisa. Brenda wouldn’t do that.”

“And what about you? Who’s going to protect you?”

“At the moment, I’m more concerned about being locked in a box than protection.”

“Claustrophobic. I’ve been thinking of that, too.” He pivoted toward her. “When you’re in there, think ice. Imagine yourself sitting on a free-floating iceberg. That’ll help. It’s feeling closed in and like there’s not enough air that gets to you. Develop a tool to combat it.”

“This sounds like a survival-school technique.”

“It is.” Jarrod smiled. “And it works.”

“Okay.” Sara drew in a deep, cleansing breath. “I’ll think ice.”

He pecked a kiss to her temple. “You can think of me, too.”

Her heart skipped a little beat. She picked up a small stone and tossed it into the water. “What should I think about you?”

“That no matter what happens, I’ll be there for you, doing everything I can to help you.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

Sara gave him a liquid smile. “I’ll think of you a lot, Jarrod.”

He didn’t want to risk asking—the grooves alongside his mouth proved it—but he did. “Only while you’re in the box?”

Reassurance. He needed it as badly as she did. She gave him a negative nod. “Always.” She let her promise shine in her eyes.

He kissed her softly, gently, and left her as dizzy and breathless as when they’d made love. Hugging him tightly, she buried her chin at the curve of his neck. “I don’t like leaving you at Braxton.”

“I’ll be fine. Shank, Koloski, and Reaston are there.” He swept her back with tiny, possessive circles. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I’m leaving my car keys with you. Then, if you want to get out, you can.”

“How are you going to get to IWPT?”

“A rental. I’ll order one to be delivered to the gate.” Sara had surprised him; she saw it in his eyes. “I can’t take this car. The rental company picked it up, remember?”

“Right.” He smiled and brushed a light kiss to her lips. “You’re getting good at this.”

“Don’t tell me that.” She looped her arms around his sides. “I don’t want to be good at this.”

Jarrod pulled back. “Until it’s over, you had better want to be great at it. I want you back here alive and healthy. You matter to me.”

“You matter to me, too.” God, but it felt good to admit at least that much out loud. “There’s something else you need to know.” She had debated on telling him this, but there was no room for lies between them. “I’ve gotten proof to the outside that Braxton exists and staff and patients are on the premises. If I shouldn’t come back okay, use it to get yourself and the underground out of here. Call Lisa. She’ll know what to do.”

“Your niece?” He sounded surprised.

Sara nodded. “I know. I hated to involve her, and she is young, but she’s more stable than her mother right now, and I trust her.”

“What kind of proof?”

“Fontaine’s handwritten notes.”

Jarrod nodded, then stood up and extended a hand to her. When she grasped it, he tugged her to her feet. “Just remember to deal with your emotions. Don’t try to bank them. You can’t do it, honey, and trying only gives Owlsley more power.”

“Jarrod?” Sara tilted her head and looked up at him. “I’m really glad you fired me.”

He gave her a soft smile, let his fingertips trail down her cheek to her chin. “Me, too.”

She let her hands slide around his ribs and stepped closer. “Before we go back, would you please fire me again?”

He let out a masculine groan. “Gladly.”

Smiling, their teeth touched. They embraced, and Sara enjoyed the pleasure free from guilt, but not free from fear.

As soon as Foster provided the means, she was going to IWPT. She would leave scrambled. The question was, to what degree?

At sixteen hundred that afternoon, Sara received an inter-facility memo from Dr. Fontaine.

To: Dr. Sara West, Major, USAF, staff physician

From: Dr. F. Fontaine, Colonel, USAF, facility director

Subject: Intelligence Warfare Psychological Training

Major West, be advised of the following:

1. Upon review of your personal records, we have determined you are deficient in the aforementioned subject training, which is required for all military personnel. This deficiency must be rectified immediately.

2. You are to report to the Intelligence Warfare Psychological Training Center in Alabane, Alabama, at 0800 tomorrow morning. Transportation is your responsibility. This training will last for five days, at the end of which you are to return to your duties at this facility.

3. Official orders will be cut and available for pick-up at the director’s office within one hour.

Regards,

Franklin Fontaine

Colonel, USAF

Commander, Facility Director

Sara read the memo and began to shake. She’d wanted to get into IWPT, but not as a trainee and not without a little preparation time and notice. What about her patients? What about—

No. No, what Shank had said was true. Sara’s answers to what had happened to David, Joe—all of her patients and ADR-40—were at IWPT. Going there as a trainee gave her the best odds of finding out the truth and getting the evidence she needed to end whatever they were doing there and to get her patients reunited with their families—including David with Brenda and Lisa, and Joe with Mrs. Brandt. If Sara was lucky, maybe she and Joe could be a part of each others’ lives. That was her best, and worst, hope.

She flicked at the edge of the memo with her thumb. It proved one thing. Foster had been honest with Shank. He’d said that he had Sara’s going to IWPT under control. Evidently, he’d been right.

The niggle that he and Fontaine were working together with IWPT grew stronger, coiling in her stomach, warning her that she might encounter more at IWPT than expected. Maybe more than she could handle
 . . .

Sara turned into the store’s
parking lot at ten minutes before six and cut the engine.

Three cars were parked in the lot. The second one to her left was Brenda’s Honda Accord. Sara didn’t see Brenda, but Lisa sat in the front seat. She spotted Sara and got out of the car.

Sara left her car. The humidity was high, so was the heat. Feeling as if she’d been smacked in the face with a wet washcloth, she fell into step beside Lisa and walked past the old-fashioned Coke machine to the side of the building, away from any structures. If Foster had sent her here, she could bet her backside the place was bugged to the rafters.

Lisa hugged her, and Sara squeezed her hard. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too.” Leaning back, Lisa smiled up at Sara. The fading sunlight caught on her hair, slivering it with streaks of spun gold. “Mom’s inside getting a drink.”

“So how was the dance?”

“Cruddy.” Lisa frowned. “Taylor Baker was a phony. He pretended to care about me, but only because he thought I was like Mom.”

“What do you mean?”

Lisa shuffled her feet. Dust clouded around her ankles and splotched her white sneakers. “Easy.”

Sara’s chest went tight. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” Lisa shrugged. “But the world’s full of jerks.”

“It’s full of good people, too.”

“Yeah, but you have to look for them. The jerks find you.”

She had a point. “So what’s new at home?”

“Mom and H. G. or G. H. Williamson set the wedding date. Three weeks.” Lisa crossed her chest with her arms, blocking the writing on her T-shirt.

Sara knew what it said. She’d given it to Lisa. “Peer Pressure? I am the peer. I follow me.”

“Now would be a good time for that miracle, Aunt Sara.” Lisa watched the door. Brenda stepped outside, carrying two canned soft drinks. “I promised I’d warn you, so I am. She marries him, and I’m gone.”

Sara wrapped a protective arm around Lisa’s shoulders. “It won’t come to that. I promise.”

“How are you going to stop it?”

“You’ll see.” Watching Brenda walk toward them, her navy slacks sweeping against her ankles, her silk blouse clinging to her breasts, Sara felt a twinge of envy. Brenda always had appeared to be the willowy, self-assured, graceful one of them. The confident and capable one. Sara had wished many times for a little of her sister’s façade, but never more so than now.

“Hi, Sis.” Brenda brushed a kiss near Sara’s cheek. “You okay?”

“I’m okay.” Now that the time had come, Sara wasn’t sure how to go about doing this. How did one tell an engaged-for-the-fifth-time woman that her first husband was still alive?

“Good.” Brenda smiled. “So tell me why we’re baking out here when we could be sitting in a cool restaurant celebrating my engagement.” She wiggled her hand in front of Sara. An engagement ring with a diamond the size of a small rock glistened on her finger.

“Nice,” Sara said.

“Thanks.” Brenda smiled. “So? Why
are
we
standing out in the dirt by a rundown store out in the middle of nowhere?”

“I needed to talk to both of you privately. I’m going to be out of pocket for a while. Doing some…training.”

“More head stuff?” Lisa asked.

“Sort of.” Sara took in a deep breath. “I’ve gotten some information on David.” She let her gaze slide to Brenda. “I’m going to check it out.”

Brenda’s entire demeanor changed. Serious and still, she tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. “What kind of information?”

Recognizing the nervous gesture and not yet ready to address that question, Sara ignored it. “This training is dangerous. It causes mental confusion. You’re not to worry, I’ll be fine. But it will take some time for me to get over it.”

“What the hell kind of training is this, Sara?” Brenda held her arms akimbo.

“The kind that’s going to tell me what they did to David.”

“They—who?” Lisa asked. “Daddy committed suicide.”

“No, honey.” Sara softened her voice. “He didn’t.”

“He
is
still alive.” Brenda gasped, panted, and clutched at her chest. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”

Sara nodded. “I’m sorry, but there’s no easy way to say this. He’s a vegetable, Brenda. The damage is permanent.”