Shame

was at least an hour more of reunions waiting to happen, judging by all the sailors still lined up to come off the
Constellation.
But Elizabeth’s reunion was looking ever more doubtful. She finally joined the exodus walking away from the pier. From behind her, Elizabeth heard the sound of hurried footsteps. Four sailors were running up behind her. She stepped aside to let them pass, but two of the sailors slowed as they ran by, twisting their heads back to give her the once-over. It
must
have been a long voyage, Elizabeth thought. She offered no encouragement to their neck craning, and they continued forward. They had survived the voyage, only to arrive at the greater dangers of port.
    She wasn’t in any great hurry to get to her car. Elizabeth could never understand why people rushed to their cars after the conclusion of some public event. The same traffic jam awaited them all. As she approached her car, Elizabeth saw what looked to be a ticket on her windshield.
    So much for VIP parking, she thought. But it wasn’t a ticket. The writing on the paper, in block letters, read,
Couldn’t chance talking with you. When you exit from base park on Sixth and H, I’ll be looking for you.
It was signed,
C.
    She jumped into her car and became one of those jockeying drivers she usually reviled for being foolish. The drive out wasn’t as bad as she expected; nothing was impeding the general exodus from camp. According to the GPS, Sixth and H was just a few blocks from the base. Once she exited NAS North Island, it wouldn’t be more than two or three minutes away.
    Her cell phone started ringing. She checked the display and saw an unfamiliar telephone number. Elizabeth took a second look at the readout. Something bothered her, something aboutthe call. It was apparently a local number. She hadn’t given out her number to very many locals; several people at the Sheriff’s Office, Anna, and of course, Caleb. She didn’t call back immediately, not feeling comfortable talking and driving at the best of times, and especially not in an unfamiliar area. After parking, she would return the call.
    Everyone exiting the base was headed for the Coronado Bridge. Elizabeth turned right on H Street and immediately found relief from the traffic. The area around NAS North Island was residential and pricy. At one time Coronado had been a popular place for high-ranking officers to retire. Now very few in the military could afford the real estate tariffs.
    Elizabeth parked on the street. Around her were large, whitewashed houses with green lawns. The street was wide and pleasant, with tamarisk, palm, and pepper trees providing a pleasant canopy of green. There were other cars parked on the street but no drivers behind their wheels. She swiveled her head around. Again, no Caleb. She waited for a minute, and when he still didn’t show up, she studied her phone again. There was something nagging at her, but still, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe when she called the number her unease would pass.
    There was a thump overhead on the ceiling of the car, and then a tennis ball bounced off the hood. The diversion had her head moving as the glass shattered behind her. For a moment she didn’t know what was happening, and that was the moment he needed.
    He closed the back door behind him and had the rope around her neck even before she could open her mouth. He pulled hard, slamming her head against the seat. The garrote tightened. She tried to scream, but the rope stifled any sounds.
    Elizabeth grabbed at the rope with her hands, but she couldn’t pull it away from her neck or get her fingers underneath it. Her instincts only made matters worse. She strained forward to try to pull free, and that tightened the noose all the more.
    “Did you know,” the man said, not straining, speaking for all the world as if he were just having a conversation, “that John C. Woods said he always slept like a baby?”
    She saw stars, recognized she was blacking out, and suddenly reversed tactics. She pushed her head and body back against the seat, loosening the choke hold for just an instant. As she gasped for breath, her hands reached for the steering wheel. She felt around desperately with her fingers, searching for the horn.
    God, so many buttons and knobs. One of them had to work....
    There. The horn was sounding. Or was that just the pressure building in her ears? The choking was shutting down her senses. She felt as if she were on a plummeting