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.”
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