has to stay clear of the house. Iâm sure thatâs why heâs not around.â
âThat would probably do it,â says Herman.
âShe was very worried. I think she loves him. But what are you gonna do? Sheâs got the two kids. Sheâs gotta protect them.â
âYou donât happen to have a phone number for her?â
âI tried her cell phone, but thereâs no answer, and her voice mail isnât set up. You know how you get that message every time you call?â
âYeah, I hate that,â says Herman. âSheâs lucky to have a neighbor like you.â He glances at me, a sly smile passing across his lips.
âI feel sorry for her,â she says. âI do what I can.â
I pull a business card from my wallet and hand it to her. âListen, will you do me a favor? If you see her or hear from her, can you give me call at that number? Iâd like to talk to her if I could.â
âSure.â She looks at my card. âIf I hear from her, Iâll let you know.â She smiles pleasantly and heads back to her house. Herman and I turn and walk toward the car.
âItâs a good thing we werenât looking to whack him,â says Herman. âWith a neighbor like that, you wouldnât need to set up surveillance. Ask her nicely, sheâd probably shoot him from her kitchen window for you.â
âWhy donât you check the courthouse and see if you can find the file, any information on the application for the restraining order,â I tell him. âWe need to find out what the hellâs going on.â
Â
Chapter 12
A KERS SHOOK HAND S with two of the men standing near the large UAV. One of them was a Stanford researcher he had worked with on other visits. The other was from Grumman, the aircraft manufacturer. The third man he didnât know. There were smiles all around.
Joselyn couldnât hear everything said because of the persistent, high-Âpitched whistle from the craftâs idling jet engine. If they kicked it up, she would have to plug her ears or lose her hearing.
Cam kibitzed around for a few seconds until the guy from Stanford introduced him to the third man. Joselyn edged in closer, trying to hear.
âCharlie hereâs from Langley. Heâs out visiting.â
âI take it youâre the money?â said Akers.
âPart of it,â said the man.
âGood to meet you. My nameâs Cam.â Akers held out his hand.
The other guy hesitated.
âHeâs OK,â said one of the other guys. âHeâs with DEVGRU.â
âAh!â The mystery man loosened up. âGood to meet you. Iâm Chuck Henley.â They shook hands. Henley was tall and lean, about six foot two, a shock of short, sandy-Âcolored hair that stood up on top of his head like a stiff-Âbristled brush. He wore tan slacks, a red polo shirt, and a light blue windbreaker zipped about halfway up his chest, as if he might lose the thing later in the day when it turned warm.
Joselyn was surprised how many Âpeople didnât know that Akers was out of the military. But then, as she thought about it, it made sense. Unless the military sent out some kind of an all-Âpoints memo, how would Âpeople know? Heâd been out only a short time, a few months. It would take a while for word of mouth to get around.
âWhoâs your friend?â Henley looked over Akersâs shoulder.
âIâm Joselyn.â She reached out and took his hand.
âSheâs a friend,â said Akers. âWe were out for a ride heading up the coast, thought weâd stop by. You donât mind, do you?â
âYouâre here now. So I suppose it doesnât matter. Just donât take any pictures,â he told them.
âHow is she doinâ? Have you seen her in flight?â Akers turned the question toward one of his friends from Stanford.
âHad her up yesterday, testing