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  “I’ll think about it, Nick, but I’m sure you did just fine.”

  “I’m not. I haven’t blushed so much since I lost my ch—since before I shipped out to Nam.”

  Andrea felt her own cheeks heat. “You never told me why you transferred out of the marines into this outfit, Nick.”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to fly. And I did. And I discovered I get airsick, so here I am.”

  Andrea had to grin at his forthrightness. “I, for one, am glad you’re right here.”

  Nick looked faintly embarrassed. “I’m not exactly upset about it myself. Anyhow, back to business. We got six new and very raw recruits in this morning, fresh out of Law Enforcement school. I looked ’em over, and I figure we got the bottom of the class.”

  Andrea had heard that before. “I guess you’ll just have to break them in right.”

  “Well, I sure won’t let ’em carry a gun until they know the barrel from the butt.” He flipped a page in his folder. “We had a little to-do in the dorm last night, and I had to knock a couple of heads together. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Hanson got picked up off-base for DWI last night,” Nick continued. “The local mounties dumped him back on us. The usual?”

  “Of course. That can’t be tolerated.”

  Nick nodded. “What else? Oh, yeah, Mitchell phoned from Syracuse and said he’s snowed in and won’t be back from leave until tomorrow or Sunday. I called out to Rome Air Force Base, and sure enough he’s lying. They haven’t had a fresh snowfall since last Thursday. I told ’em to go pick him up and ship him back.” He closed his folder and looked up. “That’s it.”

  “That’s enough. Drink your coffee, Nick, and take a break. How’s Dolan been doing?”

  Nick sipped his coffee and smiled faintly. “We-e-ll,” he said, drawing the word out, “for a first looey who’s never commanded anything except a latrine detail, he’s okay. He has enough sense to know what he doesn’t know, which is more than I can say for some lieutenants.”

  Andrea chuckled. “Hey, Nick, we were all green once.”

  “Sure. I guess you just spoiled me.”

  Andrea didn’t quite know how to respond to that. When she’d first taken command of the squadron, she’d feared Nickerson was a man cut from the same cloth as her father. Instead, he’d proved to be a bulwark and a friend.

  “No more intruder alerts or suspicious events?” she asked, needing to change the subject.

  “Not since you walked out the door Wednesday afternoon.”

  “So maybe that fence business was just kids.”

  One corner of Nick’s mouth lifted. “You a bettin’ man, skipper?”

  Andrea flashed a smile, then leaned back in her chair, sighing. “I’m uneasy, Nick, like I’m waiting for the second shoe to drop, but I don’t know why. I just don’t like it.”

  “Me neither. That fence is buggin’ the sh—beg pardon, ma’am. That fence is buggin’ me.” Draining his cup, he stood. “Time for a little look-see tonight?”

  “Maybe.” Andrea thought about it. “Yeah, Nick. Let’s wander around the perimeter tonight. Around midnight.”

  “On foot?”

  Andrea nodded. “On foot, with sidearms. We won’t see a thing, but…” She shrugged.

  “At least we’ll know the beefed-up patrols are doing their jobs.”

  Shortly after midnight, Andrea and Nickerson split up and began to work their way silently from opposite ends of the perimeter fence around the airstrip. Andrea enjoyed this kind of activity, had enjoyed it ever since playing hide and seek with her brothers after dark. All the boys had admitted she could sneak more quietly than an Indian and blend into shadows better, and they always credited it to her small size. She liked to think she was just good at it. For her it was a challenge to step on the frozen ground soundlessly, to press so gently and carefully down on brittle grass and twigs that they bent rather than broke. And it was even more of a challenge to do that and still move swiftly through the dark.

  When she’d worked her way along a third of the fence, she paused to tug up her parka sleeve and look at the luminous dial of her watch. She’d been moving for thirty-five minutes now. Surely a patrol should have come along?

  Annoyed, she tugged down her sleeve, and it was then that she heard the sound. At once she crouched and grew perfectly still. It couldn’t be Nick. Even if he’d moved faster than she had, which she doubted, he would still be too far away for her to hear his stealthy sounds. Well, if anyone was along the fence somewhere, they would be silhouetted against the lamps that lighted the area of the field where the alert planes waited.

  Keeping low, she began to move at an angle to the fence, farther out into the empty fields. Where the devil was the patrol? When she felt she’d moved far enough from the fence, she again crept parallel to it, watching for a shadow against the lights. It was probably just some kind of animal, she told herself, but she didn’t believe it. By now just about anything in the state had gone into hibernation.

  Inside her parka she was perspiring, but her nose was beginning to grow numb from the biting cold, in spite of the black ski mask she wore so she wouldn’t have to obstruct her vision with the snorkel hood of her parka. Pausing, she rubbed her nose vigorously and felt it tingle, then burn. Not frozen yet, she thought with satisfaction, and crept forward again.

  She heard the sound again. Freezing into immobility, she held her breath and listened intently. Again. A quiet, stealthy sound, like a man’s footstep. It was still too soon for Nick, she thought. Filled with tension, she very slowly and carefully released the snap on her holster, folding the flap in behind the belt.

  The lights from the airstrip kept trying to draw her attention, but she forced herself to focus on the fence, following its cross-hatched length from left to right.

  And then she saw it, the crouched shadow of a man against the fence. Rising, she put her hand on her pistol butt.

  “Halt! Who goes there?”

  The crouched figure spun about into a marksman’s stance, and simultaneous with a loud crack, Andrea felt a hammer blow to her left shoulder. Without a thought, she yanked her pistol from its holster and fired at the fleeing shadow. She hit it. She saw it stumble just before darkness claimed her.

  Alisdair MacLendon couldn’t sleep. He’d reached the conclusion that it was wiser to keep clear of Andrea, more for her sake than his. He was perfectly aware that his attentions could destroy her career, and he had no wish to do that to her. None of these wise, mature, intelligent thoughts could prevent him from thinking about the way she’d felt in his arms, however.

  In fact, he thought irritably, he felt as if he were on fire. He hadn’t felt like this since he’d been fool enough to get the hots for Maureen and marry her. Then he’d had the excuse of youth. What was his excuse now? Andrea was twelve years his junior, for crying out loud. She was much too young, much too inexperienced, much too set on her career for his taste. Oh, he liked her and had a great deal of respect for her, but if he got involved with anyone at this late stage of his life, he wanted all those things he’d never had: home, hearth, and a couple of kids. Andrea most definitely wasn’t in the market for that kind of thing. Yep, it was better for everyone if they kept things impersonal from here on out.

  He was standing before his bedroom window in his skivvies, grateful that it was 2:00 a.m. Saturday and not a weekday when the phone rang. He reached for it with something akin to relief. Anything was better than a cold shower.

  “MacLendon,” he said into the receiver, already reaching for his pants.

  A woman’s professionally calm voice responded. “Colonel MacLendon, this is Sergeant Danton of the Security Squadron. I’m calling to inform you that Captain Burke was shot this evening and is presently undergoing surgery. Shall I patch you through to Sergeant Nickerson?”

  “Yes!”

  The line went temporarily silent as he was placed on hold, giving Dare an opportunity to envision the worst. Vietnam had taught him what a bulle