A Season of Angels Page 0,49

Bremerton shipyard the following morning. The sky was filled with navy helicopters that circled overhead, and a no-fly zone had been declared.

The top navy brass converged on the area and the activity on Sinclair Inlet was unprecedented. No less than ten navy vessels circled the area. Three of the fast-attack submarines patrolled the waters.

"Can you tell us exactly what's happening here?" Brian Lewis asked Marilyn Brock, a reporter from Seattle's ABC television affiliate.

Marilyn Brock pressed the earphone to her head. "As best we've been able to learn, the aircraft carrier Nimitz and the Carl Vinson have traded places. You heard me right, Brian and Carol, traded places. The Nimitz was docked at Pier 12 and is now in Pier 24, where the Carl Vinson was formerly docked.

"Also from what we've been able to find out, despite very tight security, an unidentified object showed on the radar screens this last evening. Reports are mixed. Some claim it was nothing more than a commercial flight off course, but others have said it was the silhouette of an angel."

"An angel?" Brian Lewis repeated.

"You heard me right. This is definitely one for the record books."

Chet had called himself every kind of fool. He'd waited around the area at the Westlake Mall for nearly thirty minutes and Monica had yet to show. After the tempestuous kisses they'd shared, she'd probably had her sensibilities so shaken she decided against seeing him again. It was just as well. Their relationship wasn't headed anywhere.

Monica Fischer was little more than a passing fancy to him, but even as he said the words, Chet wondered if they were true. What she was to him remained a deep, dark secret, even to himself.

Well, there wasn't any need to wait around here any longer. If she was going to meet him, she would have done so earlier. A cold beer would ease his disappointment, he decided, heading toward the Blue Goose.

"Chet, Chet Costello."

He caught the tail end of his name and whirled around, searching through a mob of empty faces, seeking Monica. His heart gladdened when he caught sight of her making her way through the crowds, weaving in and around those who were going too slow to suit her.

She wore her hair up and tightly pulled away from her face. The severe style sharpened her features, but Chet was too pleased to see her to worry about the way she wore her hair or the drab, lifeless colors that made up her wardrobe.

She was breathless by the time he reached her. He stopped himself just in time, otherwise he would have wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. As it was, his arms gripped hold of her elbows.

"I had trouble getting away," she explained, smiling up at him, her pretty eyes revealing her relief. "I wasn't sure you'd still be here."

"I was just about to give up," he admitted. They were causing something of a distraction and Chet turned, looping his arm over her shoulder and guiding her across the street. He hadn't a clue of how much time they'd have together, but he fully intended to make the most of it.

"Where are we going?" Monica asked.

Chet paused. "Do you have any particular place in mind?"

"No." She shook her head. "Do you?"

He wasn't sure she'd agree. "My apartment. You look half frozen and it's the only place I can think of where we'll have some privacy."

Her steps slowed. "I . . . don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" he asked. He'd perfected his innocent look until it was practically an art form. "I was thinking we could talk, and get to know each other a little better." Sure he intended to talk, but there was a whole lot more on his agenda. Monica possessed a delectable body that she carefully disguised behind clothes that were at least one size too large for her. She needed to learn exactly what it meant to be a woman, and he was an able teacher. Ready and able. It had been a good long while since he'd been this strongly attracted to a woman. That worried him, but not enough to prevent him from seeing Monica. He'd sort through his feelings later once he'd coaxed her into his bed.

Generally Chet preferred to relieve his sexual frustrations with Trixie, a cocktail waitress who worked at the Blue Goose on weekends. They had a long-standing relationship, or better said, a long-standing understanding. They didn't pretend to be in love, pretense was