at the files on her desk, at the bare foot she rubbed with the toe of her pump-shod one. He looked at the mural—anywhere and everywhere, except into her eyes.
Julia hated hurting him. He had always been good to her, always had been open and honest. His laughter had helped her heal.
Seth is an ethical man, for God’s sake.
But is he an innocent one?
That, she didn’t know. Worse, she couldn’t prove it. And until she could …
“Do you have some time on your schedule?” Seth’s fingers clamped around the phone’s receiver. His knuckles went white. “Dr. Warner-Hyde—Dr. Warner,” he corrected himself, “and I need a few minutes.” He let out a sigh. “Yes, I’m afraid it is.” He cranked his neck back, let his gaze drift across the dimpled ceiling. “We’ve had a security breach.”
He paused to listen, and then added, “Yeah, we’ll be right over.”
JULIA and Seth took the steps two at a time and entered the unnumbered brick building housing Grayton Air Force Base’s Office of Special Investigations.
Seth opened the door and Julia stepped through. Heat blasted her in the face. Evidently, the OSI office was having trouble with the base’s master climate control adjusting to the swift temperature changes outside, too. At the lab, people had been complaining. Yesterday they needed heat and had air-conditioning. Today, they needed air-conditioning and had heat. She walked across the reception area to the first of two desks.
An older woman, wearing silver-rimmed glasses on the tip of her nose, looked up at them. “May I help you?”
Seth answered. “Agent 12, please.”
She skimmed a subtle look at their name badges. “Just a moment.” Lifting the phone receiver, she punched in a series of numbers, paused, and then said, “Drs. Holt and Warner have arrived.”
Julia glanced over to the armed soldier standing guard behind a glass booth. The overhead light glinted on the metal butt of his holstered gun.
“Yes, sir. I’ll send them right in.” The receptionist— Mrs. Anderson, according to her name plate—cradled the phone then tipped her gray head toward the first of two
hallways. “He’ll meet you in the conference room,” she said. “Left corridor, second door on the right.”
Julia nodded, and then started down the long corridor beside Seth.
Photos of former OSI commanders dressed in dark blue Class-A uniforms lined the wall. All men, all broad shouldered, all brigadier generals. Considering the responsibilities that went with commanding investigations of everything from petty crimes to computer-information theft, project corruption, security breaches, and murders occurring on Air Force installations, Julia supposed the commanders needed broad shoulders—and the clout that comes with rank. Not all crimes were committed by service members of lesser rank than the criminologists investigating them, and some suspects were civil servants, dependents of active-duty or retired service members, and some were civilians. The crime that had brought them here could have been committed by any or all of the above.
At the second door, they stopped, and Seth rapped.
“Come in.” A man’s voice carried through the wood.
Recognizing it as that of the agent who had breached protocol and saved her life, Julia tensed.
“Julia?” Seth motioned for her to go inside.
She entered and, needing a moment to collect herself, she avoided looking at Agent 12 by focusing on the only other thing in the room: a conference table surrounded by twelve chairs with worn leatherette cushions.
“Agent 12.” Seth offered his hand. “Thanks for taking time to see us.”
Agent 12. Typically, it wasn’t necessary or wise to know more about an OSI agent than his number. Interacting with one generally signaled serious trouble; something service members and civil servants alike attempted to avoid. Julia hadn’t even known his number, only that he was an OSI agent. Prepared now, she glanced up at
Julia hated hurting him. He had always been good to her, always had been open and honest. His laughter had helped her heal.
Seth is an ethical man, for God’s sake.
But is he an innocent one?
That, she didn’t know. Worse, she couldn’t prove it. And until she could …
“Do you have some time on your schedule?” Seth’s fingers clamped around the phone’s receiver. His knuckles went white. “Dr. Warner-Hyde—Dr. Warner,” he corrected himself, “and I need a few minutes.” He let out a sigh. “Yes, I’m afraid it is.” He cranked his neck back, let his gaze drift across the dimpled ceiling. “We’ve had a security breach.”
He paused to listen, and then added, “Yeah, we’ll be right over.”
JULIA and Seth took the steps two at a time and entered the unnumbered brick building housing Grayton Air Force Base’s Office of Special Investigations.
Seth opened the door and Julia stepped through. Heat blasted her in the face. Evidently, the OSI office was having trouble with the base’s master climate control adjusting to the swift temperature changes outside, too. At the lab, people had been complaining. Yesterday they needed heat and had air-conditioning. Today, they needed air-conditioning and had heat. She walked across the reception area to the first of two desks.
An older woman, wearing silver-rimmed glasses on the tip of her nose, looked up at them. “May I help you?”
Seth answered. “Agent 12, please.”
She skimmed a subtle look at their name badges. “Just a moment.” Lifting the phone receiver, she punched in a series of numbers, paused, and then said, “Drs. Holt and Warner have arrived.”
Julia glanced over to the armed soldier standing guard behind a glass booth. The overhead light glinted on the metal butt of his holstered gun.
“Yes, sir. I’ll send them right in.” The receptionist— Mrs. Anderson, according to her name plate—cradled the phone then tipped her gray head toward the first of two
hallways. “He’ll meet you in the conference room,” she said. “Left corridor, second door on the right.”
Julia nodded, and then started down the long corridor beside Seth.
Photos of former OSI commanders dressed in dark blue Class-A uniforms lined the wall. All men, all broad shouldered, all brigadier generals. Considering the responsibilities that went with commanding investigations of everything from petty crimes to computer-information theft, project corruption, security breaches, and murders occurring on Air Force installations, Julia supposed the commanders needed broad shoulders—and the clout that comes with rank. Not all crimes were committed by service members of lesser rank than the criminologists investigating them, and some suspects were civil servants, dependents of active-duty or retired service members, and some were civilians. The crime that had brought them here could have been committed by any or all of the above.
At the second door, they stopped, and Seth rapped.
“Come in.” A man’s voice carried through the wood.
Recognizing it as that of the agent who had breached protocol and saved her life, Julia tensed.
“Julia?” Seth motioned for her to go inside.
She entered and, needing a moment to collect herself, she avoided looking at Agent 12 by focusing on the only other thing in the room: a conference table surrounded by twelve chairs with worn leatherette cushions.
“Agent 12.” Seth offered his hand. “Thanks for taking time to see us.”
Agent 12. Typically, it wasn’t necessary or wise to know more about an OSI agent than his number. Interacting with one generally signaled serious trouble; something service members and civil servants alike attempted to avoid. Julia hadn’t even known his number, only that he was an OSI agent. Prepared now, she glanced up at
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