Free Silent Creed by Alex Kava Page B

Some of which Ben had experienced firsthand. If she’d had her way earlier tonight, he would have been there beside her.
    Theirs was an odd relationship. Friends wanting to be more, but neither willing to give in and admit it. Too many ghosts. Too many expectations. Too much discipline. Or both just simply cowards.
    “I must have fallen asleep for a change,” she laughed. Eyes focused now, she glanced at the glowing faceplate of the digital alarm clock. It was 1:36 AM . “Let me guess. You haven’t been to bed yet?”
    He had stopped over earlier on his way home. Her Tudor-style house in a suburban, private neighborhood wasn’t anywhere close to Fort Detrick and definitely not on his way home from the District.
    His excuse—or what he had said—was that he wanted to find out about her friend Gwen Patterson, who was recovering from a mastectomy. But he also wanted—maybe needed—to talk about the upcoming highly publicized and overly politicized congressional hearing.
    She let him talk while they enjoyed a couple of beers on her patio, watching O’Dell’s dogs play in her backyard. They laughed at Harvey biting at lightning bugs. The sun had set before Ben arrived. While they sat in the dark enjoying a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, O’Dell wanted to ask him to stay the night. The last month had been a tough one. Something about cancer and the thought of possibly losing her closest and oldest friend had left her with a hollow feeling.
    But she didn’t ask.
    What was worse—he didn’t suggest it, although all evening she sensed there was something he wanted to ask her.
    And once again, they continued to play the worn-out game. Perhaps they were nobly protecting each other or selfishly protecting themselves. O’Dell didn’t even know anymore.
    Now, hearing his voice on the phone, she simply wished he was there with her.
    “About tonight,” Ben said.
    O’Dell pulled herself up and leaned against the headboard. So maybe he was feeling the same way she was.
    “This hearing has been weighing on my mind more than I realized,” he continued. “I don’t mean to drag you into this.”
    “You were only venting.”
    “Actually, not just venting. I need your help, but I was waiting to hear back from Director Kunze.”
    Raymond Kunze was the assistant director of the Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico, and he was O’Dell’s boss.
    Now she was confused . . . and maybe a bit disappointed.
    Before she could ask, he began to explain.
    “There was a landslide in western North Carolina. One of DARPA’s research facilities was affected. Yesterday a rescue crew found the body of one of the scientists. He’d been shot in the head.”
    “And the other scientists?”
    “We haven’t heard from any of them. The first slide—the major one—happened about ten-thirty at night. Should have been minimal staff. Most of them live in the vicinity, so their homes may have been affected, as well. It’s too early to know. Everything’s still a mess. There were other bodies but no one’s certain who they are. They may be from the facility or they could be others in the community who were caught in the slide. It’s been difficult getting much coherent information.”
    “So how is it you’ve already identified this scientist?”
    He was quiet for too long.
    O’Dell ran her fingers through tangled hair, pushing it out of her eyes. She leaned over and snapped on a lamp. Harvey looked up at her from the foot of the bed, then plopped his head back down. She didn’t see Jake. The shepherd had taken on her bad night habits and was probably patrolling the downstairs.
    When Ben still hadn’t responded, she asked, “What does this have to do with you?”
    Ben was a medical doctor, an army colonel, and director of USAMRIID (United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases) at Fort Detrick. DARPA reported to an entirely different chain of command. And yet he was using “we” as if this facility was one of