Читать книгу Untamed Wolf - Linda Johnston O. - Страница 11

Chapter 5

General Yarrow’s hospital room didn’t impress Sara as looking any more exciting than any other hospital room she’d ever visited, except for its privacy. It was compact, with a single bed—which the general occupied—and two windows along one wall where the blinds had been opened, spilling light inside. The illumination struck the small chest of drawers where patients or their families could stow belongings. A TV hung overhead on the far wall. There were chairs—four of them, occupied now, including the one where Sara sat nearest to the general’s right hand.

Appropriate, she realized.

It was all she could do to prevent herself from taking that hand in hers. To reassure him that everything would be okay.

Ridiculous. He was the one used to dictating the status of how whatever was happening each day played out. Plus, he was still her commanding officer. He would be shocked if she treated him like her friend or relative, no matter how fondly she thought of him.

Major Drew Connell and Sara had arrived only a couple of minutes ago. They’d entered the room and sat down in the seats as the general directed. The other two were occupied by Lieutenant Simon Parran and his wife, Lieutenant Grace Andreas-Parran, who’d obviously done a good job of accompanying the general here and ensuring that he was seen quickly in the emergency room.

Fortunately, his injuries were not life threatening. Grace had met them at the door and briefly informed them that General Yarrow had suffered a substantial amount of smoke inhalation. He’d been coughing and complained of a headache and shortness of breath. He was currently being treated with oxygen that he inhaled via tubes placed in his nose. Otherwise, he was fine.

He looked ashen, though, as his head rested on a pillow at the top of the raised back of the bed. His paleness was emphasized by the unmitigated blackness of his full head of hair—now more askew than Sara had ever seen it before.

But his light brown eyes were flashing, as always—ensuring that anyone on whom he directed his gaze knew exactly who was in charge.

“So where is the shell of my car now?” he demanded of Major Connell. The general, in his blue-plaid hospital gown, was the only one not dressed in camo attire. Sara wasn’t used to seeing him in anything but his casual uniform, jeans and T-shirt during off hours, or, occasionally, something more formal.

“By now it should be secured in an area within the base’s main parking garage, sir,” Drew said, leaning toward him. “Lieutenant McLinder went with Sergeant Connell to rent a special flatbed vehicle to move it, and they arrived back at the base just in time for the lieutenant to accompany me here.”

The general nodded his approval toward Sara. The gingerness of the movement might not have been obvious to the others in this room who didn’t work with him daily, but Sara could tell that he was in real discomfort—and trying to hide it. They all were doctors but she knew the general better than any of them.

She was his primary aide and hoped she would continue in that position for a long time to come.

But maybe not where he had intended, most recently, to station himself—Ft. Lukman.

An image of Sergeant Jason Connell flashed through Sara’s mind, and she willed it away. If they didn’t return to the base housing Alpha Force, then she would never see the gorgeous, devil-may-care noncom again. In either of his forms.

Either of his forms? Heck, the fire in the general’s car had taken precedence in her mind over all else—even pondering how strange, and outrageous, the reality of shapeshifting was.

Not seeing Jason again would definitely be for the best.

“What’s the next step, then?” the general asked. “I presume you’re having the remains examined by someone who’ll be able to tell me what happened to the damned thing.”

“I will, sir,” Drew said. “I’m just having a little difficulty deciding on the right kind of forensics team for this. I of course don’t want to use a civilian team, and because of the...well, delicate nature of the units stationed at Ft. Lukman and their relationship, I want to be sure I get the right kind of expertise in place, with complete discretion. And honesty.”

“In other words,” Simon said drily from his seat on the opposite side of the general’s bed, “you want to bring in someone who won’t either be ready to reveal any unusual things he may see—like shapeshifting—or afraid to point fingers at our new best friends, the Ultra Special Forces Team.”

Simon was a tall man, whose straight, dark eyebrows matched his wavy, thick hair. Sara had noticed how often he shot glances toward his wife. She knew they were newlyweds, and had also heard, as a result of the general’s grumblings, some of the awful details of their kidnapping while on their honeymoon.

Fortunately, other members of Alpha Force, primarily Simon’s brother, Lieutenant Quinn Parran, and Grace’s aide, Sergeant Kristine Norwood, had helped to bring them home— although their involvement hadn’t been strictly in accordance with military protocol. That hadn’t pleased the general—but Sara thought his irritation had been more for show in his position as commanding officer of Alpha Force than his real feelings.

What Simon had just said worried Sara, who liked everything military to be by the book. That included all units being...well, ordinary—even if she already knew that Alpha Force was anything but.

Plus, all military units should unquestionably keep any rivalry under control for the good of the country.

Assuming rivalry was what was going on at Ft. Lukman. If so, it was way out of hand in the event it had been the reason for General Yarrow’s injury.

“You think they’re responsible for this?” Sara demanded, recalling how Jason and she had already discussed that possibility. Her initial experiences with members of the USFT unit, in the cafeteria, in the BOQ and otherwise, hadn’t been especially cordial. In fact, she’d sensed a lot of animosity from that team without understanding why...although maybe they simply mistrusted another military unit alleged to have woo-woo stuff affiliated with it, like shapeshifters. She could understand that. But all military troops had to act for the good of the country, not in accordance with their own suspicions or misgivings.

Surely no one within the USFT would intentionally do something to harm the commanding officer of another unit...would they?

Simon appeared ready to say something affirmative in response to Sara’s question, but the general waved his hand dismissively. “Unknown, at least for now. That’s why we have to be sure to handle the investigation appropriately.”

“Do you have any suggestions about who should investigate your car, then, General?” asked Grace, who was seated beside her husband, opposite Sara.

Before he responded, Sara broke in. “I have an idea, sir. At least for starters. We can keep it low-key at first, but there’s someone stationed at Ft. Lukman who apparently has an excellent background in working with cars. If we get him to do more than just move the vehicle—”

“You’re talking about Sergeant Jason Connell, aren’t you?” Simon’s tone was neutral, but there was something troubling about the way he avoided looking toward Drew—cousin to the soldier under discussion.

“That’s right,” Sara agreed. “I understand he’s an expert in fixing automobiles. As long as he doesn’t do anything to obscure any evidence needed to be confirmed by a neutral third party, why not have him start the investigation? Major Connell already directed that he take a lot of confirming photographs while the car was still at the scene of the event. They can be shown to whoever conducts the official investigation later, too.” She didn’t call what had happened an accident. With that intense a fire, she suspected it was anything but.

“I don’t mean to insult your cousin, Drew,” cut in Grace, her gaze now on the major, “or offend you, but—”

“But you’re going to, anyway.” Drew turned to Sara. “You’re probably not aware of the full situation with Jason, Sara, but—”

“But he’s a car thief,” broke in Simon.

“Was a car thief.” Drew’s expression darkened as he turned toward the lieutenant. “He enlisted in the military and joined Alpha Force as part of his penance for past misconduct.”

“Right. It didn’t hurt that joining up kept him out of prison.” Simon was smiling now. “Hey, we understand. Far as we know, he’s now a model soldier. A fine member of Alpha Force. We’ve seen him do great things with the unit’s automobiles that need servicing. But—”

“I assume you’re not suggesting that he could have been the one to somehow booby-trap my car, are you?” asked the general drily. “Why would he?”

“Why did anyone?” countered Simon. “Assuming it wasn’t just spontaneous combustion.”

Sara tuned out of the discussion for a moment, digesting what she had just learned. Sergeant Jason Connell wasn’t merely a car lover and outstanding mechanic. He had apparently been arrested, and maybe convicted, of being a car thief. He must have agreed to join Alpha Force and throw himself under the scrutiny of his well-regarded cousin Major Drew Connell, a commissioned officer and a medical doctor to boot, to keep himself out of prison.

And this was the guy Sara had found so sexually exciting?

Hell, even if he was sexually exciting, everything she learned about him made him even more of a wrong choice for involvement.

Even so... “General, sir, I didn’t know all that about Sergeant Connell. But he is a member of Alpha Force, and you’re its commanding officer. He has a good reputation for working with cars, and he obviously isn’t going to steal what remains of your Jeep. Sir—” Sara turned to Drew “—as I said, you’ve already ordered that photos be taken. You’ve also said that the remains should be kept in a protected area. You can additionally order that some of the other soldiers on base, maybe more security team members who aren’t part of Alpha Force or USFT, assist Sergeant Connell, and be there the whole time he’s conducting his investigation. Although—” She looked back at the general. “If he was involved, and there was anything he could steal off the damaged car and hide, he’ll have done that already.”

“True,” said General Yarrow. “And I wouldn’t have approved acceptance of the sergeant into Alpha Force if I’d thought he was still any kind of risk. Although having someone watching to confirm he doesn’t do anything wrong with my former vehicle now is a good idea. In fact—”

Uh-oh. Sara didn’t like the general’s smile. She had seen it before when he was about to give an order that he knew the recipient would hate.

He was looking at her.

“Lieutenant McLinder, I hereby order you to work with Sergeant Connell to find out what the hell happened to my car—and to make sure he does a good job of checking it out.”

Her shock must have shown on her face, since, for the first time that she’d seen after the explosion, General Yarrow actually laughed. So did the other three Alpha Force members in the room.

Then the general grew serious. “One thing, though. I’m pretty sure you already know it, that you’ve seen some things you didn’t expect despite my warning before you preceded me to Ft. Lukman.”

“Are you about to tell me that Sergeant Connell is a shapeshifter, sir?” Sara tried to put levity and nonchalance into her voice, but knew she failed miserably. She looked, one by one, at the three Alpha Force members now in her presence, all medical doctors and commissioned officers. “I don’t know if everyone in Alpha Force is a shapeshifter,” she said, “but I now believe that some of you are. And that includes Jason Connell. So if you—”

General Yarrow raised his hand in a sudden gesture that she recognized was intended to command. She immediately shut up.

Which was a good thing, since a voice sounded from behind her. “General Yarrow. Greg. We just heard and had to come here to make sure you were all right.”

Sara turned. In the doorway were a couple of the USFT members she had seen in the cafeteria. They were preceded by a short, stocky man also in camos, his insignias indicating that he was a general. He’d been the one to speak.

“I’m fine, Hugo. Everyone—” General Yarrow’s gaze took in the Alpha Force group around him as he gestured toward the newcomers “—this is General Hugo Myars, commanding officer of the Ultra Special Forces Team. I’m sure you’ve met some of his team members.” He nodded toward the not especially friendly officers Sara had previously spoken with.

Myars maneuvered his way around the representatives of Alpha Force, while his backup remained near the door, their caps respectfully doffed and in their hands. “I know our people aren’t merging as well as we’d initially hoped, so the exercises we planned are on hold, and now this. But I’m here to let you know, Greg, that the USFT and all its team members wish you a speedy recovery, and we’re ready to work with Alpha Force as soon as we can start conducting joint training sessions.”

Nice gesture, Sara thought.

Unless, of course, this was just General Myars’s way to try to disguise the fact that he, or some of his subordinates, were the ones who’d set fire to General Yarrow’s car.

But if so, why?

And did this unanticipated get-well visit make what Jason would find in the Jeep’s remains even more critical...because it would point right to these apparently kindhearted fellow soldiers?

* * *

Jason couldn’t help it.

At the moment, he stood alone on the hard concrete of Ft. Lukman’s main parking garage, arms crossed, enjoying the rare and temporary solitude. Thinking.

He was in the military now. That usually meant having too many people around.

Although there were some people—one in particular at the moment—who he admitted to himself weren’t so difficult to be near. But not just now.

He loved cars. They had a purpose, were understandable and followed logical rules.

They were indifferent to the fact that he was a shapeshifter, didn’t care that he had made some mistakes when he was younger—well, except that he’d occasionally taken some cars away from their real, and possibly abusive or ignorant, owners.

He particularly loved those cars that could be considered classics.

That didn’t necessarily include General Yarrow’s aging Jeep, but Jason had seen, when he had serviced it before, how the general had babied it. Kept it in excellent condition.

Let experts—like Jason—work on it.

Now, though, it was gone—a pile of mostly metal debris. Smelly, fire-scarred, isolated wreckage that Jason was currently examining, all by himself.

He had done as ordered and found a rare location within the main garage that contained only a few spaces, an area on the third floor where only the top brass were authorized to park. A secure enough area that, by closing a garage door and erecting a barrier comprised of excess metal and wood from recent construction on the base, he’d been able to jerry-rig a portion into a pretty secure area after hauling the wreckage there in the truck he’d rented.

He’d been there for a while now, initially just staring at what was left of the deceased Jeep.

As he’d been told, he had found some security guys who were not members of either Alpha Force or that damned Ultra Special Forces Team, and given them orders to show up in about an hour to guard the general’s former car.

That was one good thing about being a sergeant. Even though he was a noncommissioned officer, there were some folks who were of inferior ranks, and he could give them orders.

On the other hand, there were plenty of people of higher rank than him.

Like that gorgeous, sexy lieutenant. He hadn’t wanted to think about her now, but she had insinuated herself into his mind, anyway.

And that stirred some of his most sensitive body parts. Bad time to allow her into his thoughts.

No, right now he ached to dig into the mess and figure out exactly what had happened. And not just because the senior commanding officer of his very special military unit had been in the vehicle when it caught fire.

No, it was even more because he gave a damn.

But Drew wanted a completely unbiased review, by non-Alpha Force investigators, of what was left, in case it contained evidence that pointed to someone’s having caused the damage.

Someone like one of the members of that other major unit at Ft. Lukman, whose members had decided to look down their snooty human noses at their rival team here that they didn’t understand at all, except to believe it inferior.

Little did they know.

But would they have tried to kill the superior officer of that unit? If so, why? And how had they set that fire?

Jason had changed into a well-worn T-shirt and jeans so he wouldn’t appear to be doing anything official. Plus, he didn’t want to mess up his uniform.

As he’d intended all along, he now approached the charred mass from the rear.

That was where the smoke had first appeared, or at least that was what it had looked like while watching the general drive through the gate.

He studied it first, then drew closer, knowing he’d better not touch it or move anything around. He wasn’t an expert in finding evidence, and he might ruin any that happened to be there.

But he knew cars, damn it. And he particularly wanted—

“Hello, Sergeant Connell.”

He forced himself not to jump out of his skin—his human skin—despite being startled by the familiar, strong female voice from behind him.

Instead, he pivoted to see Sara McLinder walk through the only door to this area that he had left accessible.

“Lieutenant.” He nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t want her here. Did he? The sight of her slim body, sexy even in her unisex camo uniform, made him want to approach her and do a lot more than salute.

He stayed where he was.

Especially because he anticipated that she was there to give him orders—like, get away from the damn wreck. Go somewhere else. Obey what she said, just because she could tell him what to do.

“Sergeant—Jason,” she said. “Do you have a camera with you?”

He nodded. “I took a lot of photos before having this thing moved here, like my cuz said.” He’d have done it, anyway.

He’d wanted the reminder of how this poor vehicle had ended up immediately after its destruction.

“Good. Let’s take some more right here before we start.”

“Start what?” He didn’t even attempt to hide the suspicion from his tone.

But that only brought a smile to her lovely, smooth features. A smile that emphasized the natural pinkness of her lips that wasn’t enhanced by any lipstick.

Lord, how he’d love to taste them...right now.

“Drew knows a lot better than I do about your skill in working with cars, but I’ve been impressed with what I’ve seen and heard. You should pretty much only look, and touch only what you have to—and take a lot more photos so that, when any experts are brought in, they won’t say that any evidence has become so tainted that they can’t draw any logical conclusions. But even unbiased investigators might miss something a car expert wouldn’t. So I’ve gotten your cousin’s approval to ask you to conduct an initial investigation.”

* * *

“You did that for me?” Jason’s look was smug and sexy as he aimed a smile at her. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Sara shouldn’t have told him she’d been the one to convince Drew. The guy obviously assumed that she’d done it because she was attracted to him.

Not that she’d admit it to him...but she was.

She raised her chin as she shook her head in a slowly skeptical denial, staring him straight in those gorgeous golden eyes. “I don’t—not about you. But I do care about General Yarrow, and I want to make sure we get all the answers in case this wasn’t simply a terrible accident.”

“So you think his car was sabotaged.” Jason’s words sounded more like a statement than a question, even as his expression grew serious.

“I believe it’s a real possibility, so I want to know the truth.” She pulled her own camera and some rubber gloves from the tote bag she had carried, then set the bag on the concrete beside her. “Besides, I’m here to observe...and help.”

His turn to look skeptical. She didn’t like that at all. “Just how do you plan to help?”

She wasn’t about to tell him she was under orders to supervise him—not unless that became necessary because he looked about to screw things up. With his apparent ego, it would be better to let him think he was in control. Think being the operative word.

“Observation is the main thing. And taking pictures, too. In fact, since you’ve already taken some, I can be in charge of the rest, at least for now. Plus—well, if you need assistance I’ll see what I can do. I can at least hold things out of the way, act as a second pair of eyes, whatever.”

He nodded. “That sounds doable.”

“Fine. Let’s get started. Put these on first.” She handed him one pair of the rubber gloves, keeping a second for herself. Then, drawing her gaze abruptly away from Jason, she strode toward the pile of metal remains, aiming her camera and snapping initial pictures.

This was the same camera she’d used to take pictures of his shift. She had already downloaded them onto her laptop computer and made a backup copy, password protected both files, then erased them from the camera.

Alpha Force’s cover would not be blown by her.

Taking closer pictures of the Jeep now would be better, though. “Why don’t you do this in a narrative?” she suggested. “I have a lot of memory left on the card in this camera and can take videos.”

“Good idea.”

Great. They seemed to be in agreement. For the moment, at least. And the division of labor seemed reasonable.

Sara considered herself fairly competent with a camera, but less so with a car.

Even so, she wanted to do a damned good job of supervising Jason as he conducted his preliminary analysis of what had happened to the Jeep to cause it to catch on fire.

Maybe even help with it herself.

Assuming, of course, that the fire hadn’t destroyed all indications of its initial cause.

Jason began at the rear of the hulk. There was nothing left of the canvas that had once been the removable exterior covering, but the metal framework, blackened and curled in places from the heat, remained mostly intact.

“Is it cool enough for you to touch anything?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine now.” He was already bending over the back of the thing, mostly looking. But then he probed a few places with his fingers.

For the next few minutes, Sara mostly recorded and listened as Jason used his knowledge of cars to study every centimeter of what he was able to see and described what he was doing.

At first, he apparently saw nothing that he seemed to think was out of place in the remains of a burned-out Jeep.

At one point he asked, “Do you happen to know if General Yarrow was carrying anything in the bed here?”

“He didn’t mention anything.”

“Well, we’ll need to check with him. I see a few things that are definitely not part of the car, but they don’t look especially dangerous, either.”

Without moving them, he pointed them out to her. One was the burned carcass of what appeared to be a battery, and the other was a small piece of metal that could have been from a child’s toy, maybe even a model of the Jeep, judging by its angles.

Then there was what was probably the remains of a steel fishing rod and a lure box containing what once had probably been hooks but were now just melted puddles of metal. Some additional small, melted clumps of metal. Nothing useful or conclusive. In the passenger seat were the remains of what must have been the general’s overnight bag, still partially intact.

Sara dutifully continued to shoot the video, recording Jason’s mention of each item and exactly where it lay in the midst of ashes and other debris.

She was impressed with Jason’s meticulousness and attention to detail in the ruined Jeep. He pointed out the parts he recognized, those that were no longer recognizable but had qualities that allowed him to make assumptions, and more.

He occasionally asked for her to gently touch something, holding it out of the way so he could pry even farther into some inside area. She shot more pictures of each of those areas when her assignment was complete.

Eventually, after more than an hour, Jason was through.

“I know it’ll all be speculation,” Sara said, holding the camera on Jason, “but do you have any initial opinion about the origin of the fire?”

His handsome features grew even sharper as his expression hardened. “Nothing conclusive, nothing I can point to that proves it was anything but some odd mechanical failure or spontaneous combustion or unavoidable accident,” he said, “but despite finding nothing obvious during this first examination, I knew this Jeep well after servicing it for General Yarrow. I believe this was somehow deliberately sabotaged, set on fire. And I’ll do anything I can to find proof.”

Sara turned off the camera and looked at him, seeing the frustration and sorrow on his face. She wanted to do something to comfort him, but all she could do was to acknowledge her agreement. “That’s my belief, too,” she said quietly. “But since you didn’t see anything to hang that opinion on—”

“I will,” he said grimly. “Count on it.”