A Point of Honor Read online

  “Then where are they?” I sat up and leaned across the table. “Huh?”

  He leaned in, too, copying me and nearly putting us nose to nose, “They’re strategically scattered in silos across the nation—from coast to coast, even in Alaska and Hawaii—and in our allies’ countries too—waiting for someone to get an itch for world domination.”

  I sat up straight and stared at my beloved brother with my heart in pieces on the floor at my feet. He’d finally gone over the edge, I thought. His experiences in the military have broken his mind. Fighting a fresh onslaught of tears, I whispered, “Miles, have you considered speaking with a therapist about these…thoughts?”

  He glowered at me. “I’m not crazy.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “You may as well have.” Outrage flashed from his bloodshot blue eyes. “I’m not asking you to believe me. Your belief or doubt is a moot point. I’m asking you to deliver this envelope to this address. Will you do it?”

  “I—”

  “Yes, or no, sis?” He held up a shaky skeletal hand, “But, before you say no, make sure you are capable of living with the responsibility of inaction. The weight of billions of deaths worldwide will be on your shoulders when I’m proved right.”

  2

  Todd

  ∞∞∞

  “Thank you for coming in, Master Gunnery Sergeant Wolfe.”

  “That’s no longer my job, sir—no longer who I am,” I politely corrected the man standing before me. Lieutenant General Miller—I thought for sure I’d seen the last of that grumpy old coot when I received my disability retirement a year prior after a rescue mission gone wrong. I’d been lucky to escape with my life and would always have a limp to remind me—

  “It will always be a part of who you are. Did you read the email I sent you?”

  I nodded, a sharp jerk of my head, “I did.”

  “Well? Do you think you can find him?”

  “Fuck if I know,” I scraped my nails through the short silver-flecked ebony flattop that hugged the top of my head, then across the black stubble that covered the sides and the back. Be time for a haircut soon, I mused in the back of my mind. “What will happen to him if I do?”

  “I wish I could give you an answer but it’s out of my hands. They don’t tell me jack unless I need to know and apparently, I don’t need to.”

  “With all due respect, that isn’t what I asked you, sir.”

  He sighed heavily. “I know it isn’t. The official statement on record is that he’ll face a court-martial and jail time but I’m not buying it. The man’s a hero after what he stumbled across. My best guess—and that’s all it is, mind you—is that he’ll be offered a place in the witness protection program for his own safety. He’ll probably get a bit of plastic surgery done to make him unrecognizable and be placed somewhere no one would be likely to look for him.”

  “That might kill him just as dead, sir.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I sighed. I hated lying to him, but I had to. I’d made a promise and I wouldn’t betray it—not when that betrayal could potentially cost an innocent young woman her life. “I don’t know if you know but he had a sister. She’s buried in their hometown. Each of them was all the other one had in the years after their parents died and he won’t willingly turn his back on her gravesite. He pays to have it tended to and has fresh flowers delivered twice a month. If he can’t do that in witness protection, he won’t go for it.”

  He hammered his hand down on the heavy executive-style wooden desk, making me jump. “Would you rather he died, too, son? That’s what’s going to happen if you don’t succeed in finding him before they do and persuade him to cooperate with us. I’d stake my life on it, and you can take that to the bank like money, because I don’t stake my life on nothing that isn’t a sure thing. If we sit around doing nothing but twiddling our thumbs like scared little pussies, they will find him, and they will kill him. Is that what you want?”

  There it was again. They. No names, just the mysterious they, from everyone I spoke to. I frowned. “No, sir.” But I had to know. “Who is this they you keep talking about and why exactly are they after him?”

  Almost as if he’d expected the question, he started shaking his head before I’d even finished speaking, “That’s classified information—a need-to-know sort of thing—and frankly, son, you don’t need to know.”

  Is that so? I leveled my gaze on him and tossed caution to the winds. Fuck it, you only live once, right? The worst he could say is the big fat nothing he was already spouting. I wouldn’t be any worse off than I already was.

  I coughed, trying to clear the lump from my throat caused by years of deference to authority, and rebutted, not hiding my anger, “Let me see if I have this straight. You want me to go out and look for him, putting my ass on the line, while some unknown they is also scouring the globe for him,” I held his gaze, “but you can’t tell me anything about them or why they want him so bad because it’s classified information—even though that knowledge could potentially help me save both our lives? That makes about as much sense as a…a…a platypus, sir!” I winced at my analogy but refused to back down. “Have you ever seen a platypus, sir?”

  He nodded, a glint of amusement in his tired eyes, “I have, and I agree with you, but my hands are tied. Are you going to accept the assignment, son? Yes, or no?”

  “You say it like I have a choice.” I didn’t even try to hide the bitterness that filled my words. I felt like I was being railroaded.

  “You do have a choice. You can either accept or refuse the job—however, if you refuse, you’ll have to live the rest of your life with the knowledge that you’re most likely signing his death warrant.”

  “Like I said—no choice.” I met his eyes. “Why are you assuming that I can find him? Why me?”

  “Because you know him better than anyone else.”

  “What about—” I almost said his sister before I caught myself. I bit my lip in an effort to hide a smirk. Her existence as a living breathing above-ground person was knowledge only a few people had access to, and he wasn’t one of them. The lieutenant general wasn’t the only one with access to classified information he couldn’t share. That knowledge helped me feel a smidgen better.

  “What about what?”

  I gave my head a tiny shake, “Nothing. I’m just thinking out loud.”

  “Speak your mind. Nothing’s too outrageous. Any lead might help,” he encouraged, hope lurking in the back of his gaze.

  I was put on the spot. My heartbeat accelerated and I scrambled for a good cover. What could I say? I discarded a few wild ideas before settling on, “It’s a bit of a stretch but I was gonna say what about his company commander? Maybe Miles said something to him before pulling his vanishing act? Has anyone asked?”

  He shook his head. “Way ahead of you. He says he doesn’t know anything.”

  “Hmm,” I had my doubts about the veracity of the commander’s statement, but I bit my tongue. “And if I agree to this search, whether I succeed or fail, I have your word that the military will leave me alone after this?”

  “You have my word as a soldier and a man of God. After you find Miles—or even if you don’t—you can disappear off the radar and I’ll never bother you again.”

  “You won’t—but that doesn’t mean no one else in the military will, does it?”

  “What can I say? You were good at your job—you never lost a man. You left a big pair of shoes no one else can fill.”

  My face warmed at the words of praise, but I refused to be swayed. “The key word there is were. I was injured in the line of duty—remember? One week after my official twenty-year mark, and ten years before I planned to retire, and friendly fire damn near took me out. I have a permanent limp to remind me, as if I could forget, and an unwanted ability to know when a storm’s coming. I’m not exactly the man that used to fill those shoes either.”

  “Fine…everyone else will leave you alone, too
. You have my word. I’ll personally see to it.”

  “Uh huh, why don’t I believe that?”

  “Because you’re an untrusting and paranoid son of a bitch.” He grinned at me, shaking his head.

  I laughed, shrugging, “Well, look at what my job was—do you blame me? It’s a sad situation when you can’t even trust those on your side not to try to kill you.”

  “I know.” He seemed to age before my eyes, and I was damned if I’d ask about the cause. I was almost positive I didn’t want to know. An indeterminate amount of time later, he sighed and asked again, “Yes, or no, Todd? You’re all he has—his only hope.”

  I threw my hands up, “Fine, I’ll do it. No, make that I’ll try to do it—no guarantees.”

  “That’s all I can ask for. It’s all anyone can do.”

  Nodding, I saluted him—an ingrained habit born from twenty years in the Marines that still stuck even though I’d been out a little over a year—and took my leave. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  3

  Millie

  ∞∞∞

  I read the article in the paper for what felt like the millionth time in the last couple of days. The headline, Local Hero Dies in Fatal Crash, captured my attention every time I saw it—but it was the article that froze the blood in my veins anew each and every time I reread it as if it was the first time all over again.

  Sergeant Major Miles Masterson, a specialist in the Marine Corps and a resident of Coushatta, Louisiana, perished in a single car accident west of Denver, Colorado when his car, a newer model Chevy Camaro, exited the highway and plunged down a steep embankment where it exploded and burst into flames upon impact with the terrain below. Police do not suspect foul play at this time and believe brake failure may have contributed to the accident.

  Remains recovered at the scene will be delivered to the Brady Funeral Home, per his wishes stated in his will, and will be interred in the Peaceful Willow Cemetery where a plot is held in his name near the rest of his family. He was preceded in death by his grandparents, Mr. And Mrs. Roy Masterson and Mr. And Mrs. Howard Smythe, his parents, Kevin and Darlene Masterson, and his younger sister, Millie. He will be greatly missed by those who knew and loved him. Do not stand at my grave and weep for I am not there. I do not sleep.

  My heart clenched at the bible verse at the end of the article. It was one he always said he wanted on his headstone when he died. Seeing the verse made it feel more real, somehow.

  I’d just seen him a couple weeks before the accident when I’d agreed to deliver the envelope—the envelope that was sitting in the safe in my closet as I reread the article yet again. Guilt suffused me anew. I couldn’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time—could I have prevented his death by delivering the envelope to the Washington DC address he’d given me in a timelier manner? Was I ultimately responsible for his death? Tears flooded my eyes, but then something occurred to me, pulling me up short before I could break down completely—something that hadn’t occurred to me before that moment. The request for me to deliver that envelope was now his dying request to me, as it was the last request he made to me. I had no choice—I had to deliver it or it would haunt me for the rest of my days. Great. I prepared to stand up. No time like the present.

  My phone rang just as I got to my feet. It was my friend DeAna. She rarely called anyone, preferring the anonymity of texting. Frowning, I snatched it up. If she was calling—

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me—De.”

  I grinned and bit my tongue, wiping tears as I did, “I know. What’s up?”

  “I just drove past your brother’s place and noticed his door was open, so I stopped to investigate and you’re not gonna believe this—somebody broke into his house and trashed it. Junk is strewn everywhere. CDs and DVDs are out of their cases and trampled on the floor. Books were ripped apart and tossed across the room. Food was dumped out of the cabinets, the pantry, the fridge and the freezer. All of the cushions and pillows from the couch and loveseat were sliced open and, on the floor, lying in the broken glass and soaking up liquids. That was just what I saw from the front door. I can only imagine the rest of the house, but I bet it’s just as bad.”

  “You didn’t go inside, did you?”

  “Hell no—it stunk to high heaven from the door. Besides, do I look like an idiot to you? You’re the one that got me hooked on Criminal Minds, Law and Order and CSI. Not only did I not want to smell that any longer than I had to, or contaminate the crime scene, but I know what people are capable of and I don’t want to die!” I had to pull the phone away from my ear at the end to keep from endangering my hearing.

  “I know you don’t,” I kept my voice low and soothing. “I was just asking. I meant no harm. You’re not still there, are you?”

  “Duh, of course I’m not still there. What if they came back?”

  “Good. I’m going to swing by and check it out.”

  “Not by yourself!” she shrieked in my ear, making me flinch. “Weren’t you listening to a word I said?”

  “Fine, I won’t go by myself. I’ll see if Joey from next door can come with me.”

  “Good. Joey’s a cop. He’ll know what to do, won’t he?” She had a crush on him and thought he was perfect. He literally could do no wrong in her eyes. Plus, he and Miles were friends and he wouldn’t rat me out—as long as you don’t do something really illegal, like rob a bank or kill somebody he said when he caught me outside after my ‘death’. Those had been his exact words, too—and I’m not exactly the type of person to do something like that so I was as certain as I could be that my secret was safe with him.

  After I got off the phone, I peeked out the window to see if he was home like I’d promised I would. When I didn’t see the distinct shape of his police cruiser in his driveway my heart dropped but I didn’t let it deter me. I had a sneaking suspicion someone had ransacked my brother’s house while looking for something in particular—something in a big brown envelope, currently in my possession. I told myself not to go over there alone. I told myself I needed to get to the address he’d given me as soon as possible so I could fulfill my promise to my brother. After all, like DeAna said, anyone who watches crime shows knows the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. What if I got there and they had returned—or even worse, what if they’d never left? But still…I had to know.

  I hopped in my pride and joy, a one-year old powder blue Toyota Camry Hybrid, with the envelope and address tucked safely inside my purse. I tossed an overnight bag in the tiny backseat, loaded Butch into the passenger seat, and headed toward my brother’s house. His place wasn’t far from mine if you knew the shortcut and was a few miles from the outer edges of the small town we called home. I didn’t intend to stop. I just wanted to look at the outside of the house so I could honestly say I saw the door when I reported the break-in to Joey later.

  Dusk was just setting in when I crept past his driveway. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and it scared me. I nearly ran into the ditch as I jerked my head for a closer look. Someone was there! I accelerated away, terrified, glancing in my rearview mirror almost as much as I looked out the windshield—and that was how I saw a vehicle—a van—rocket out and turn in my direction in hot pursuit. I wondered in the back of my mind how they could see in the evening twilight without headlights—as they flew up behind me, ramming me hard. I tightened my grip on the wheel and glared into the rearview mirror, relieved that my airbag didn’t go off even as the seatbelt halted my forward momentum with an unapologetic jerk. Poor Butch wasn’t so lucky and landed in the floor with a pained yelp, pissing me off even through the miasma of terror filling me. What the hell?

  Looking forward again just in time, I saw a familiar street in the furtherest reaches of my headlights. I immediately realized what I had to do and mentally thanked my big brother for teaching the move to me. That street looped around and came out near the sheriff’s department in town, so if I could pull it off and make the turn… “Ho
ld on, Butch.”

  I tried to time it right. I hit my brakes, jerked the hand brake, and steered into the turn, ignoring the butterflies tickling my tummy and the fear creeping up my throat. Practically on two wheels, I skidded and drifted into the right turn, taking the street I’d spotted just in the nick of time. Being unfamiliar with the area and not expecting such a ballsy move, they flew past, giving me precious moments to increase my distance. I took full advantage of it, too. I stomped it.

  I didn’t see headlights in my rearview until I’d topped the hill a mile from the turn and I felt giddy with delight—but I’d seriously underestimated the power of their vehicle in all of the excitement. They caught up quickly despite my attempts to shove my foot through the floor. I braced for impact but instead of ramming me, I saw them move into the other lane in an attempt to come up beside me in a PIT maneuver, and I moved to block them before they could get around. They tried the other side—or acted like they were before trying the same side again. I didn’t fall for it. Instead, I laughed, exhilarated, as I matched them move for move.

  “I used to watch old Dukes of Hazzard reruns with my brother,” I screamed as I stared into the rearview mirror, proud of myself. “You ain’t fooling me.” My eyes ping-ponging back and forth from the road ahead to the mirror and back again, I straddled the faded center line, moving from side to side each time they did, managing to keep them behind me—though it was close at times.

  The headlights from an oncoming car caught my attention, and theirs, too. As it got closer, they rammed me again and again. I was pretty sure they were trying to distract me—or maybe they were attempting to take me out before the other car got close. If that happened, it was over, and I knew it. Nausea churned in my stomach at the thought. Regardless of their intentions, what they succeeded in doing was busting out their headlights. My heart rejoiced. After all, it’s hard to see in the dark with headlights, but without them—and at high speeds? But apparently that occurred to them, too. As soon as the oncoming car took to the ditch and we flew past, they stomped on the accelerator and jerked the wheel, getting the front bumper of their car even with my rear fender. My heart sank. Then they jerked their wheel, ramming my back fender and making my poor car fishtail. I screamed.