An Unlawful Order (The Chase Anderson Series) by Carver Greene Page A

Paige Abercrombie— the Martha-Stewart-perfect neighbor who lived next door to Chase and Molly. Her husband, Lieutenant Colonel Abercrombie, was the base ammo officer. Chase swept the parking lot for him, picked him out of a group of officers huddled in conversation outside of the circle that was slowly loosening its grip around the widow and her children. Just like men, Chase thought. They can plan wars and fight them but can’t manage a few words of condolence. Her eyes landed on the arrogant Figueredo who was matching cadence with ColonelFarris until both men stopped for words with General Hickman.
    Chase looked back to Paige, who was now reaching out with gloved hands to the widow: Paige with her sleek, shoulder-length hair and sleeveless black shift, Paige who resembled a modern version of Jacqueline Kennedy. Kitty reached for the gloved Paige and pulled the woman to her. The embrace, several seconds, hinted that the two women knew each other beyond the casual wives’ club meetings Chase never bothered to attend. When the two women pulled apart, Paige delicately stepping backward to the outer edge of the circle, it was Samantha Harold who was next to step forward. She lived with her husband and daughter on the other side of Chase and Molly. Another gust, as if fueling a brush fire, gave life toSamantha’s prairie-inspired skirt, blousy top, and wild red hair. Samantha brushed the hair from her face and pushed her right hand toward Kitty, who cradled the handshake with two hands. Samantha relinquished all attempt at controlling her hair and cupped Kitty’s hands. For several seconds, the women remained locked in hands and words, oblivious to the cocooning of Samantha’s billowing skirt around the widow’s legs.
    Chase had been encircled with these same expressions of grief after Stone’s death. She turned away from the scene, too consumed by the picture of grief. She’d taken her eyes off Paul Shapiro for less than two minutes and now he was AWOL from the group. Her eyes darted through the crowd. She found General Hickman talking withColonel Farris, and she exhaled.
    North was with the reporter from the Associated Press, Cruise was with two television crews, and Martinez was with a reporter from CNN. But where was Shapiro? She willed herself to walk calmly through the crowd, willed herself to suppress the rising hysteria that was reminding her of the time she and Stone had nearly lost Molly at King’s Dominion in Virginia. Molly had wandered off toward a koi pond while Chase and Stone were fishing for money to pay for shaved ice cones.
    Her eyes finally landed on Paul Shapiro. He was standing under the banyan tree across the parking lot, though he was not alone, and she panicked to think who he had sequestered for one of his man-on-the-streetinterviews. She was heading in his direction when she felt a soft touch on her arm. She turned and came face to face with Kitty White, this time the real Kitty White, whose blue eyes were forming pools large enough to drown both of them. A speechless Chase could only stare.
    “I’m sorry,” Kitty White said. Her voice had the warmth and richness of a woodwind, an oboe. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    Chase extended a hand, rather reluctantly, into the widow’s soft warm flesh, as if the handshake might be a conduit for transferring Kitty’s recent bad fortune upon Chase, and she’d had all she could handle. Molly was all she had left, and God help her if anything ever happened to Molly. “Please don’t apologize,” Chase said, slipping free her hand the second she thought it acceptable. “Ihope the media haven’t been too intrusive.”
    Kitty let her newly freed hand rest upon the purse strap that was draped over a forearm. “No, they’ve been fine, which is what I wanted to tell you. Thank you for—everything you’ve done.” There was an unmistakable emphasis on that word, everything , that sent Chase’s mind into a flashback of throwing away the dog