Dar drew the folder over and looked through the contents. Her brows rose.
“Yeah, I threw in a couple others, and that damn IRS website support contract. Please, Dar, get them off my back, will ya? They can’t keep that thing running to save their lives.”
“I’ll do my best,” Dar replied, with a shake of her head. Peter was going to go completely insane when he saw this. She hid a smirk. Arrogant ass. “I’ll make sure you get taken care of.”
“I know it,” the general said, then hesitated. “Hear from your mother?”
A faint flinch tugged at Dar’s face. “No,” she replied quietly, with a faint shrug. “Not since the funeral. I don’t think I ever will.”
“Bitch,” Gerry muttered under his breath. “Like it was your fault he decided to put his hand in the field one last time.”
Dar stared at the carpet, a sturdy maroon tweed. “They were inseparable, Gerry. I remind her of him too much, I guess.” Her voice was quiet and even.
“He was her whole world.” And all Dar had left, really, was pictures—eight or 44 Melissa Good ten treasured photos of her tall, dark-haired father, mostly in fatigues, one with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, the two of them looking more like brother and sister than father and daughter.
She remembered the solidness of him, the sturdy, powerful body whose shoulder she’d dampened with tears on more than one occasion. She tried not to remember that last goodbye, not often. Not unless she was alone with the stars, or the endless stretch of the water.
The general exhaled, then he got up and moved around the desk, holding his hand out to her. “Come here, rugrat.” He tugged on the hand she extended to him and pulled her up into a hug. “Your daddy was one of my best friends.
You know that, right?”
Dar allowed herself the luxury of accepting the embrace, feeling the scratchy wool of his uniform against her cheek. The smell, a mixture of dry cleaning and leather, brass and starch, was very familiar. “I know that.” She gave him a pat on the back as he released her. “He was a good man.”
The general leaned back against the desk, studying her. “He was a very good soldier,” he acknowledged. “I always half expected you to follow in his footsteps.” His hand patted her arm. “You’ve got his strength, you know.”
Dar let a tiny smile shape her lips. “I save my battles for the boardroom, Gerry.” She held up the folder. “It can be just as dangerous, but lacks the bullets.”
The aide returned, and handed them each a glass of frosty ice tea, already sweetened. Then at a hand signal from the general, she discreetly left. They silently toasted each other, and Dar felt herself relaxing a little as the cold beverage slid down her throat. It was always hard, seeing Gerald Easton, but it was getting easier with time, and she knew one day she’d see the old general and not think of her father first. “Well, I’d better get going. I need to be on the noon flight back into Miami.”
Easton set his glass down and folded his arms across his chest. “Why not spend the night over, Dar? Mary would love to see you, and Jack’s in town.”
His eyes twinkled again. “You know he’s madly in love with you.”
Dar gave him a rueful grin. Gerald’s husky, blond son certainly did flatter her with gentle, almost hesitant attentions when they were together, and she really didn’t mind doing things with him. They’d spent a great time last year touring the Civil War battlefields in the area, and the thought of just relaxing in Jack’s peaceful presence was tempting. “Gerry, I have to admit to you, if I was going to marry anyone, it’d be Jack. He’s the sweetest guy I know.”
Easton beamed. “Welcoming you into my family would be one of the bright points in my life, Dar. You know that.” He shook a finger at her. “Don’t be so fast to wave off marriage. I know you’re tied up with your career, but you should give it a chance sometime.” He put a hand on her arm. “Give yourself a chance. C’mon, stay over.”
Dar sighed. “Honestly, I wish I could, but I’m right in the middle of a mess down there. I can’t afford the time.” She gave him an honestly regretful look. “I’ll take a near-future rain check, though.”
“Hmm.” He glanced at her shrewdly, tactician’s mind working. “Hey, why don’t you come up for Christmas?” He cocked his grizzled head at her.
“Have a real holiday…tree, maybe some snow, the works, huh?”
Tropical Storm 45
The tall woman was caught off-guard. “Maybe I will,” she murmured softly. “Thanks for the invitation, Gerry.”
His gray eyebrows waggled, and a smile of mild military triumph crossed his face. “Anytime, rugrat. Now g’wan and get outta here, before your pinch-butted Norwegian out there throws a shoe.”
“He’s Dutch,” Dar corrected wryly.
“Dutch, Norwegian…I’m a soldier. What in blazes do I know about all those neutral countries?” he countered, with a grin. “I can tell a German from a Frenchman and an Italian from a Jap.”
Dar, who could distinguish between Miami’s several dozen ethnic Latin groups without difficulty, just smiled back. “Nice seeing you, Gerry. Give my best to Mary and Jack, all right?”
“I sure will,” the general promised. “Have a good flight, and take care of yourself, hear?”
“I will.” Dar picked up her folder and glided out the door, straightening her shoulders as she spotted Weyhousen approaching from the window where he’d been pacing. Without a word, she handed him the folder, which he almost dropped.
“What is…” His eyes scanned the contents, and his jaw tightened. “That son of a bitch.”
Dar exhaled. “Post them. I’m taking off.”
The man looked at her bitterly. “What did it take to get this? You do him on top of his desk?” he asked sarcastically. “Easy for you—just go in and show him a little ass, is that it?”
For a frozen moment, Dar struggled with the urge to strike him. It showed in her pale eyes, she knew, because Weyhousen backed off a step, and she concentrated on her breathing, holding down the fury which threatened to overwhelm her. Finally, she took a breath. “You know, Peter, for someone who has to take twice-weekly impotence drugs, you sure are hung up on sex.”
Dar had concluded long ago that medical files and ex-hackers were useful things. “Maybe you should get some pointers from the old boy?” Without waiting for an answer from him, she turned and simply left.
Chapter Five
“DAR, WHEN ARE you leaving?” Maria stood in the doorway, her bag slung over her shoulder. It was Friday night, at the end of one of the worst weeks the secretary could remember. She watched her boss with concern. The dark-haired woman was seated behind the large wooden desk with the fading sun behind her. “Dar?”
“Hmm?” The executive glanced up from her monitor, giving the woman a wry look. “I’ve got to finish up this damn financial report, Maria. It’ll be a few more hours yet.” Her desk was scattered with fanfold reports, most of them custom, most of them with her login displayed prominently on their top sheets, indicating she’d run them herself. “It’s called burying the bodies, Maria. I’ve got to hide two rank disasters, and still make the numbers come out right. I think I’ve got one covered, but if Travel and Transportation doesn’t come up with their numbers in about an hour, I’m going to have to drive down there and beat them out of them with a baseball bat.”
She sat back and reviewed the spreadsheets for the dozenth time. It was like building a puzzle that had too many pieces. You had to pick which one you used, and the pickings were getting ugly tonight.