One of the Boys Read Online Free PDF Page A

her and his daughter. Maybe a little of Maura’s outgoing ebullience was what Lisa needed.
    The divorce had left her too serious, too quiet. Although Jake tried to involve her in local activities when she came to visit, she tended to withdraw into a reserved, self-sufficient shell. Her favorite activities seemed to be reading and the interest in archaeology she’d developed after talking to Maggie Wescott.
    Jake hadn’t missed the excited sparkle in Lisa’s eyes when she ran to show him the pottery shards. He’d felt a surge of love for his child so strong it almost overwhelmed him. If digging around in the mud with Maura Phillips gave Lisa that kind of pleasure, he wasn’t about to deny it. He’d just make sure he kept out of their way.
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    â€œWhat do you think?”
    Spreading the pottery shards out on her desk Monday morning, Maura summoned several of her co-workers to show them her treasures.
    Pete poked a finger at the brown and red shapes. “They look like rocks to me.”
    â€œNo, look at the designs,” Maura insisted. Somehow, in the space of a single evening, she’d become a devotee of prehistoric pottery. She’d even called her mom, who’d added to her enthusiasm about the little pieces.
    â€œOkay, they’re rocks with designs.” Pete grinned at the others peering over Maura’s shoulder.
    â€œWell, what tribe do you think made them? What do you know about the prehistoric Indians in this area?”
    Laughing, Pete edged away from her desk. “Look, I’m an electrical engineer. What I know about Indian artifacts you can fit sideways in a transistor.”
    â€œYou might try the base civil engineers,” a short, gray-haired woman volunteered. “I think they’re responsible for that sort of stuff. Why don’t you start with them?”
    â€œThanks, I will.”
    A call to the Environmental Protection Branch got Dr. Maggie Wescott on the line. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Maura described the find and asked about the rules governing their find.
    â€œOur regulations are pretty straightforward if artifacts are found on base,” Wescott advised. “Off base is a different story. We have an archaeologist on call from the University of Florida who comes in and catalogs the major finds. I can give you his number. Or the State Environmental Protection Agency in Pensacola. Also, there’s a historical society in downtown Fort Walton Beach that might help.”
    Maura took down the numbers and tried the last first. There was no answer at the historical society, and the other two were long distance, so she decided to call them from home. She scooped the pottery shards into the little box she’d found for them last night, put them in her desk drawer and turned to her work.
    Within minutes she was glued to her computer screen, running a series of simulations for the AGM-88 HARM—High Speed Anti-Radar Missile.Charts and computer runs were scattered across her desk and littered the large worktable in the center of the room. The good part about working in a secure area was being able to leave all this stuff lying out.
    The bad part was working in a windowless vault, of course. Shrugging off the closed-in feeling, Maura typed in the simulation parameters. She was soon so absorbed in her work that the shrill ring of her intercom caused her fingers to jump on the keyboard. With a muttered curse, she backspaced carefully and picked up the phone.
    â€œDr. Phillips, this is Janet Simpson. The boss needs to see you. Can you come down now?”
    â€œSure, Janet. Anything in particular I need to bring?”
    â€œNot that he mentioned.”
    â€œOkay, I’m on my way.”
    Carefully saving her work on both hard disk and a floppy file, Maura gathered up her scattered charts. Vault or no vault, years of working on highly classified advanced projects had ingrained a security awareness that made her