Acts of Honor by Vicki Hinze Read Free Book Online

off the hours. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen  . . . nine P.M.
    Having to count to translate time proved a nagging point. Sara wasn’t ready for this. She didn’t know enough about the inner workings of the military. In her five years of confrontations with it about David, she thought she had gained a gutful of knowledge. Now, she knew better. She was in serious trouble. How could she carry off posing as an officer? “Do these special instructions mean you think the phones at Braxton are tapped?”
    “It’s a distinct possibility.” A pleased gleam lit in his eye. “And cell phones aren’t secure. Anyone could be listening in, ally or enemy.”
    The beer in her stomach soured on the spot. “I see.” And, God, but she wished she didn’t.
    “Not yet.” Foster stood up, dropped a ten on the table, and then scooted his chair back into place. Its legs scraped over the wooden floor. “But you will soon.”
    Finishing her beer, Sara watched him leave. Dread dragged at her belly, warning her he was right. And that she would hate it, too.

three
     
    No sign marked the turnoff, which had to make it difficult for families first visiting to find the place, but Sara spotted the dirt road leading to Braxton. Dodging one of a million mud puddles, she hooked a left and cranked up the heater—last night’s rain had turned the October air surprisingly chilly—and conceded that her conversation with Brenda had been chilly, too.
    Only after Sara had confided that this was her best lead yet for information on David had Brenda agreed to hold off marrying H. G. or G. H., or whatever-the-hell-his-name-was, Williamson. God alone knew if she’d keep her word. For everyone’s sake, Sara hoped Brenda did wait.
    Dragging a hand over her winter-white wool slacks, Sara came to a guarded iron gate and braked to a stop. On both sides of the guard shack, tall chain-link fencing stretched across the road and disappeared into the pine woods. Razor wire topped it. Red and white signs posted every three feet warned that the fence was electric. Beyond the shack, as far as she could see, lay only more dirt road and woods. Nothing identified this as the facility, but instinctively she knew it was Braxton.
    A burly guard in his mid-thirties stepped out of the guard shack and approached the window. A badge attached to his shirt pocket read BUSH, and from the stripes on his sleeve, he was a sergeant. A shiny pistol hung holstered at his waist, and he looked too comfortable wearing it not to know how to use it.
    The dread dragging at her stomach increased tenfold. She rolled down the window of her car, and a gust of wind swept in, carrying the cloying smell of pine.
    He stopped a safe distance from the car. “You lost, ma’am?”
    “No, Sergeant Bush, I’m expected. Dr. Sara West.”
    He scanned a clipboard and then looked back at her. “Yes, ma’am. You’re staying on the premises, I see. FYI, the gate locks up for the night at twenty-one hundred sharp. We don’t open it again until seven hundred. Security reasons, ma’am. No exceptions.”
    She converted the times and resisted the urge to spit nails. She wasn’t even in Braxton yet, and already the first problem had arisen. How was she supposed to call Foster at nine P.M. from the convenience store when Braxton’s security force locked down the facility at nine P.M.?
    Bush thrust a clip-on name badge through the open window. “Wear this at all times—attached to your left collar point. If you’re caught inside the facility or on the premises without it, you’ll be detained and fined. No exceptions.”
    “Thanks for the warning.” Sara didn’t have a collar on her winter-white sweater, so she clipped it to the neckline where a collar would be if she’d had one.
    Avoiding her eyes, Bush saluted. “Welcome to Braxton, Major.” He waved her through the gate.
    Sara drove on, and when the road curved sharply to the right, she saw the facility. Lush islands of evergreen foliage and four