Tropical Storm

Chapter Thirty-one

DAR WOKE IN a sweat, half rolling out of bed in total disorientation as her senses tried to force the unfamiliar surroundings into some semblance of order. Her heart was pounding, and she was breathing hard, and she gripped the edge of the bed with shaking fingers. “Jesus.” She looked around in confusion, seeing only the peaceful moonlight streaming in the double hung window of the Eastons’ guest room.

“What in the hell was that?” she murmured, running her fingers through her hair and swallowing against the upset in her stomach. “Too much stuffing, I think,” she ruefully concluded, realizing it must have been a bad dream brought on by shameless overindulgence in just about everything that night.

Slowly, she straightened up and let out a breath, now wide awake and knowing she’d be unlikely to drop back off to sleep anytime soon. “Guess I could read a book,” she muttered. “Except I don’t have any, and the only thing I saw downstairs was Jane’s Military Hardware, and I’ve already read that.”

Sighing, she stood and walked to the small antique writing desk that was settled against the window and sat down, unzipping her briefcase and pulling out her laptop as she gazed out across the silver and sable landscape. She booted the machine and sat drumming her fingers until it came up, then she plugged in the modem line and requested a network connection. “Might as well check the mail, see if there are any crises going on,” she murmured to herself, glancing at the time on the laptop. Only just past midnight; she’d only been sleeping for about a half an hour, since the Eastons held to the early to bed, early to rise military tradition, and she hadn’t minded since she’d been up since very early to catch her 6:00 AM flight.

The machine connected and started to download her mail, and she watched it idly, scanning the headers. Then she noticed the blinking box in the corner, and her brows creased. One of her running bots? Puzzled, she clicked on it, and watched the box expand.

Database Access Request—Scan Match—String “Stuart, Kerry”

Medical Benefits Card usage 00:23 112798

Admitted Bryan’s Counseling Center Ident 999823

Dar’s heart started pounding again, and she suddenly felt lightheaded.

With shaking fingers, she did a search for Bryan’s, and found them in the client database. She pulled up their profile.

Tropical Storm 417

Bryan’s Counseling Center

Account A0022323

A psychiatric research and treatment center designed to evaluate short and long term mental illnesses and provide strategies for adjustment of deviant behaviors to assist patients in rejoining the societal norm.

A counseling center? Dar stared at the screen in puzzlement. Why in the hell would Kerry have gone there? Was it a mistake? Or could she have been in an accident, and maybe it was the closest… She reread the description. “Deviant behaviors,” she mouthed silently to herself. “Oh no.” Her eyes jerked to the window, and her breathing sped up.

“Oh my god.” Dar breathed. “Those sons of bitches.” Slowly, she put her hands down on the writing table and closed her eyes, forcing herself to be calm. “Okay, think.” Brain first, heart second, wasn’t that what she’d always said?

Bloody hell! Doesn’t count when you’re in love, now does it? “Son of a fucking bitch!”

First thing, she needed to get to Michigan. With that decided, she shut the computer down and put it away, then quietly changed into her clothes, and packed her bag up. Then she went down the hall and into Jack’s room, where her friend was sprawled across his bed in an orgy of slumber.

“Jack.” She knelt and touched his shoulder, getting an almost instant fluttering of pale eyelashes. “Wake up.”

“Wh…uh…” Jack rolled onto one side and peered at her. “Dar? What’s going on?”

“Listen, I have a friend in a lot of trouble. I need to get out to Michigan.

Can you drive me to the airport?”

He blinked at her. “There aren’t any planes this late, Dar.”

“I’ll rent one,” the executive told him in utter seriousness. “But it’s gotta be quick, speed counts.”

“Wh…” Jack nibbled his lip. “Speed counts, huh?” He rubbed his face.

“How does Mach Two strike you?”

It was Dar’s turn to blink. “What?”

“C’mon. The base is closer than the damn airport, and my cat’s just sitting there collecting dust. I’ll take you.”

“Jack, you can’t just do that,” Dar said softly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but it’s not worth risking your ass, not to mention your career. I’m not living with you stuck in a Navy brig for twenty years. I just need a ride to the damn airport!”

He laughed. “Dar, you’re worth risking my ass for, but it’s not in any danger.” He stood up and tugged his flannel pajama bottoms up. “I’ll just get Dad to approve it, gimme a minute.” He trotted off down the hall, leaving slightly stunned eyes following him. “Those stars come in handy, y’know.”

“Got troubles, then, do we?” General Easton’s rumble traveled down the hall, followed by the General himself. “Problems, Dar?”

“Friend in trouble,” Dar replied quietly. “Someone who means a lot to me.”

418 Melissa Good Easton’s eyes studied her intently. “Good enough.” He picked up the phone in Jack’s room. “Get dressed, son. You can’t be driving that damn plane in your jammies.” He motioned Dar to turn towards him. “Look this way, Dar, Mister Prude there is afraid to go to half-staff in front of you.”

If Dar hadn’t been so worried, she would have laughed, but she faced towards him and heard Jack curse as he got tangled up in his shorts.

“Who’s this? … Right, this is General Easton, from the Joint Chiefs.”

Easton waited a few seconds. “No time for all that nonsense, son, just listen. I have a pilot coming down to file a flight plan from here to…” He thought a minute. “No, Wurtsmith is too far, Kent County would probably be your best bet.”

“That’s civ,” Jack muttered, pulling a shirt over his head.

“It’s after midnight up there, won’t matter,” his father covered the receiver and whispered back. “Kent County, and I’ll need a liaison up there with a car for him.” He paused, listening. “That’s right, good man.” He hung up. “Right, all set.”

Dar regarded him quietly. “I owe you one, Gerry. I owe you both.”

A faint smile crossed the older man’s face. “Consider it payment for a long-gone debt, my friend.” He shook his head a bit. “Someday we’ll have to have a beer and I’ll tell you about it.”

Dar nodded. “All right.” She turned to see Jack slipping into his leather jacket. “Ready?”

He ran a hand through his stubble. “My hair look okay?” His eyes twinkled gently.

“Like a short carpet.” Dar exhaled. “Let’s go.”