Broken Honor Read Online Free PDF

She unlocked the door and leaned down to pet him. His furry face looked worried, his long eyelashes trembling nervously. He’d been even more timid than usual since losing the one safe place he knew.
    â€œAh,” she said, “it’s all right, Bo. No one is going to hurt you or me.”
    But she found herself looking out the window and wondering whether she really believed it. Or ever would again.
    She felt so alone. So damnably alone.
    Who ?
    And, more important, why?

four
    M EMPHIS
    Irish stared at the burned ruins of what once had been a home.
    So that was the reason he hadn’t been able to reach Amy Mallory, the explanation behind the “this number is no longer in service” message.
    He’d researched the two generals other than his grandfather: Mallory and Eachan. They, like his own grandfather, had surprisingly few progeny. From the three, no child still lived. There were four surviving grandchildren, including himself. Two others had died: his brother and an Eachan child. If he had been a superstitious person, he might have thought the families cursed.
    Irish had discovered a great deal about the others in the past three days. He knew their jobs, their school records, their credit reports.
    He’d pondered which to visit first. He hadn’t particularly been encouraged by what he’d learned about Dustin Eachan. Irish had friends who interacted with the State Department. None of them thought highly of the man they all considered too ambitious for the department’s good. He was a man, they said, who always chose the expedient way, who let nothing stand in the way of promotions.
    He probably would not be overly pleased about opening the investigation wider. Hell, he was probably hiding in a closet now.
    Eachan’s cousin didn’t sound too encouraging either. She was in substantial debt, had changed jobs seven times in ten years, and was currently working for the State Department.
    Amy Mallory, on the other hand, seemed the epitome of stability. Not even a parking ticket. History professor. She would keep papers, memoirs, journals—if indeed any existed. He’d decided to start with her and had tried for two days to reach her by phone. Then he’d jumped on a plane.
    He had three more days of his scheduled leave remaining. He’d already talked to his commanding officer about taking an extended leave. But he’d learned long ago not to waste time on hopeless causes. If he didn’t find anything in Memphis or in Washington, his next stop, he would forget it.
    Or try to.
    Damn, General! What in the hell had happened ? He could see his grandfather in his mind’s eye. He’d been integrity itself, drilling into his grandson the concept of honor every day of his life. He’d called the man “Grandfather” but he’d always thought of him as “the General.”
    Honor. How in God’s name could he allow his grandfather’s honor to be stripped from him ?
    Which was why he was standing in front of a burned-out shell of a house.
    He looked around. No cars. He would head for his hotel and call the university. He probably couldn’t get her private number, but he should learn where she might be the next day. Or at least locate her office.
    He would wear his uniform, since it often impressed. Or intimidated. Those were the only reasons he wore it these days; CID agents—even military members—usually wore civilian clothes.
    Irish took one last look at the house. An accident? Or another coincidence? He only knew he didn’t like the feeling in his gut. He knew it too well, and it always meant trouble.
    Amy clutched the telephone to her ear and listened to Sherry’s excited voice.
    â€œWhen I told him you wouldn’t be in today, he wanted your address and phone number,” Sherry said.
    Amy sat down on the bed. She’d been arguing with insurance adjusters all day about the value of her electronic equipment.