Authors: Vicki Hinze
Sara nodded, afraid to say anything for fear of saying the wrong thing.
Reaston stomped the gas, drove down the dirt road toward the gate. About two hundred yards out, he slowed down and aimed right for the ditch.
Sara grabbed the dash, bracing herself. “What the hell are you doing?”
The car rolled though the ditch and into the woods beyond it. Reaston cut the engine. “The car will be here. You’ll need it shortly. Keep the keys in a safe, accessible place.” He passed them to her. “Go in through the gate. Koloski will let you in. I have the flu. When you get inside the facility, skip the security points. People have been briefed. Just avoid Mick Bush or your ass is grass. Once you’re inside, get lost. Somewhere obscure, where you don’t usually go. Whatever you do, stay the hell away from the lab. William’s there.”
“Okay.” Sara couldn’t get over this. The Braxton underground had galvanized to help her. But why? “I don’t get it, Reaston. People won’t even talk to me. Why are they doing this? Why are you?”
“Look, Major. You didn’t get it. You still don’t. We didn’t know you, and you didn’t have a clue we were all lifers—hell, you didn’t know
you
were a lifer. The gate at Braxton swings one way. In. To get out—unless they want you out temporarily—you leave one way. Toes up. Who wants to pass on news like that?”
They hadn’t been afraid of being tagged security risks by associating with her. They hadn’t wanted to be the ones to shatter her illusions with the truth about her leaving Braxton.
She let that sink in. It felt right. Especially in light of all those helping her now. “Does anyone know I’ve been gone?”
“Not for fact.” Reaston fingered the door handle, clearly eager to get out of here before they got caught. “Fontaine is suspicious, and Mick Bush is certain, but he can’t prove you left the facility. I don’t know what the hell you did to tick him off, but he’s out for blood.”
“I don’t know, either. But if Fontaine’s had him looking for me, and he’s riding Bush as hard as he’s ridden me, that’s more than reason enough right there.”
“Fontaine is on his back. He’s on everyone’s back. Pulling personal inspections throughout the facility.”
Great. Just great. A raging bull. Exactly what she needed.
Jarrod heard the buzzer.
He looked toward the door, hoping to see Sara. Instead, he saw Fontaine, wearing a brown suit, a bright purple tie—obviously Mrs. Fontaine hadn’t returned yet—and a frown too big for his face.
“Where is Dr. West?” he asked. “I was told she was in with you.” Fontaine let his gaze slide down Jarrod, shoulders to toes. “And where did you get street clothes?”
“They’re part of my therapy.” Jarrod slid a hand into his pocket. “You didn’t pass Dr. West in the hallway?”
“No, I did not.”
“Hmm. Well, I can’t imagine why not. She just left here.”
Fontaine pursed his lips. “Did she say where she was going?”
“To check on her other patients.”
“I see.” Fontaine stepped closer. “I understand you’re making significant progress.”
“So she says.” Jarrod shrugged. “Personally, I don’t see it.”
Fontaine stepped close to Jarrod, turned his back to the camera, and dropped his voice to a faint drone. “Joe, what is Operation Red Haze?”
A memory rammed through Jarrod with the force of a lightning bolt. He struggled to suppress any outward reaction and lied. “I don’t know.” Affecting a vacant look, he reached for his crayons. “Am I supposed to know?”
Fontaine studied Joe hard, looking for any crack in his demeanor, any sign of deception or deceit. “No. No, you aren’t.”
Joe fingered the flap of the crayon box. “I like color. Blue and green and orange and
. . .
”
Fontaine left the Isolation room, his black loafers squeaking on the floor pads.
From under his lashes, Jarrod covertly watched Fontaine go, futility and frustration making mincemeat of his stomach. Sara was in danger. He loved her, wanted to help, and to protect her. Stuck in here, he could do so little, and every instinct in his body warned him that she needed so much.
Warned him that she was in lethal danger.
That she was a part of Operation Red Haze.
Beth was in the med room, but the call couldn’t wait. Shank spoke softly into the phone. “Sara’s on her way back in, sir.”
“Good. Thank you, Captain.” Foster cleared his throat “Has she fallen in love with him yet?”
Foster, talking about emotions? To her? Despite his lecture on trusting leaders, Shank didn’t trust this behavior, or him. Would a
yes
or a
no
get Sara killed? “I’m not sure,” Shank said. “Maybe.”
“Unacceptable, Captain. Yes, or no.”
“I’d say no, but I think yes.” Why did he always push for definitive answers when typically there weren’t ones? Did he suspect Shank hadn’t been honest? “Joe’s definitely got it bad for her.”
“She’s fighting her conscience,” Foster speculated.
“In a huge way,” Shank agreed. “Trying to keep things ethical.”
“Excellent.” Foster let out a satisfied sigh. “Excellent.”
So Sara had acted exactly as he’d expected her to—again. “Have you gotten clearance to get her into IWPT, sir? That’s going to be the first thing she asks me.”
“No, but don’t worry. The plan is unfolding exactly as anticipated.”
Skepticism rippled through Shank. How could things be unfolding as anticipated? There were more uncertainties in this operation than holes in a chunk of Swiss cheese. Foster had to be blowing smoke. “I suggest you somehow let Dr. Fontaine know that. He’s been nipping at her heels like a rabid dog.”
“He has been handled, Captain.”
“May I ask how, sir?”
Foster’s voice chilled. “This afternoon, the director received a memo, reminding him that all military personnel must receive psychological-warfare training. The situation is under control.”
An icy shiver crept up Shank’s spine. Now why would Foster expose himself to remind Fontaine about psych-warfare training?
Only one reason came to mind, and it terrified Shank. Foster was working
with
Fontaine. But he couldn’t be, could he?
All he wants is that star. That’s all he wants. And if Braxton and IWPT go down—without him being associated—he’ll get it.
Oh, God. Foster had double-crossed them all.
Sara ran into Shank
in the hallway outside ADR-40’s room.
“Thank God you’re back.” Shank stuffed the keys to the med room into her pocket. “Fontaine has been personally searching the facility for you, and Mick Bush has been hanging on to friendlies as tight as a damn leech.”
“Does Fontaine or Bush know I’ve been gone?’
“They’re suspicious, but I don’t think they can prove it. If they could, they’d have assembled a Security team to find you and bring you back. The friendlies have been stonewalling. William hasn’t helped.” Shank twisted her lips in a respectable frown. “He’s been spouting off how pissed he is at Fontaine about the demotion and fine, but I’m not buying it. He might be ticked enough not to report you AWOL with Fontaine, but I wouldn’t bank on it. William can’t be trusted. Flat out.”
AWOL—absent without leave. Another acronym. “What about Bush?” Sara asked, licking at her dry lips. “Reaston said he was out for blood.”
“He is.” Shank stepped into an alcove near the end of the hall. “Bush is a fanatic. That’s what makes him so good at what he does in Security. It also makes duping him darned difficult because he takes any irregularity personally. He noticed that your car was missing from the parking lot.”
“I gathered that when I got back.”
Shank paled. “You didn’t drive it back in then.”
“No, Reaston hid it.”
“Good. Joe arranged that.” Shank swiped at her thighs. “We covered it, but you can bet your ass Bush reported it to Fontaine.”
“So do I go to Fontaine and tell him I know he’s been looking for me, or do I wait for him to find me?”
“Go to him,” Shank said. “That should throw him for a loop. But see Joe first. He’s been worried sick about you, and really feeling the pinch because he’s stuck in here while you’re out there alone.”
He’d definitely recovered. Definitely. And he wanted to protect her. Warmed by that, Sara nodded. “Did you get Foster?”
“Yeah. He says you getting to IWPT is handled.” Shank’s expression darkened from gloomy to glum. “I don’t trust him anymore, Sara. All of this, and he says everything’s going according to plan.”
“Sounds impossible. But with Foster, who knows? Could be possible, feasible, and logical.”
“Could be,” Shank agreed. “But if it is, then why do I have this gaping hole in my gut that’s burning acid?”
“I don’t know. If it helps, I’ve got the same symptoms.” Unsure if that was reason to rejoice or mourn, Sara headed toward Isolation.
Koloski buzzed her through, and Sara entered Joe’s room.
Relief flooded his face, and Joe rushed to the door. He clasped her hands in his. “Sara, are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m safe.”
“We need to talk.” He blinked deliberately. “I remember. I think, all of it.”
Sara whispered back, knowing the equipment wouldn’t be able to pick it up. “All of what?”
“Operation Red Haze.”
“We’ll have to wait.” She darted a glance at the Plexiglas window. Empty. “Fontaine’s on a witch hunt for me.”
“I know. He was here.” Joe avoided the camera. “You should be covered.”
“I’ve got to go placate him, and then I’ll come back, and we’ll go outside. You can tell me about Red Haze there.”
“Okay.” Joe blinked, and his voice went soft. “I’m glad you came back.”
A rush of pure warmth spread through her chest. For Joe, those were difficult words to speak. She blinked back and smiled. “I’ll always come back to you, Joe.”
“Careful, Doc.” He didn’t smile, but his eyes lit up from the bottoms. “I might hold you to that.”
“I’m counting on it.” Sara squeezed his hands, then stepped to the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The door closed behind her, and Sara walked past the Isolation nurses’ station. The Plexiglas distorted Koloski’s reflection. William stood beside him.
“Major West,” William shouted out. “Dr. Fontaine is looking for you.”
“Joe just told me. I’m on my way down there right now.”
Sara stepped into the elevator. Beth was in it. Sara nodded, but Beth ignored her, and the sickly-sweet smell of her perfume made Sara’s stomach flip. It was sucking up all the air. Queasy, she looked out at the station and, before the doors slid closed, she saw William lift the phone. Pissed or not, he hadn’t changed.
The elevator descended to the first floor, and the door opened. Mick Bush stood front and center just outside it, waiting for her.
Expecting him after William’s call, Sara smiled. “Hi, Sergeant Bush.”
“Dr. West,” he said stiffly. “Dr. Fontaine wants to see you in his office immediately.”
“Joe mentioned he was looking for me. I’m on my way. I just need to stop by X ray—”