Read 4 Shot Off The Presses for Free Online Page B

last year.”
    I felt a niggling suspicion that Eliot was hiding something from me. I couldn’t press him on the subject, though, because I had to get out to the air base. “Yeah,” I shrugged. “I guess I’ll find out what he wants within the hour.”
    Eliot dropped another kiss on my mouth and started moving towards the curb where his truck was parked. I watched curiously as he stopped and turned around. “Be careful around Turner,” he said finally. “He’ll try to mislead you any chance he gets.”
    “How do you know that?”
    Eliot turned back to his truck without answering. Well, this morning had taken quite a turn – quite a few turns, actually.

Six
    Jefferson Air National Guard Base is one of Macomb County’s most noteworthy facilities. It houses a branch of the National Guard and features an assortment of really big military planes. Yeah, I don’t get the appeal, but there’s a museum on the base that draws a big crowd every year – and the air show is always a big deal, even though there’s usually some sort of catastrophe attached to it. We’re talking plane crashes and people falling from various aircrafts to their death. Every single time they host one something terrible happens – and yet they still keep hosting them. Yeah, I don’t get it either.
    The base is located in northern Macomb County, with one side facing Lake St. Clair, another facing the woods and a third facing one of the major highways that cuts across the industrial landscape to the east of one of the current shopping hubs.
    I hopped on I-94 and took the freeway the entire way out to the base. At the gate, I was met by a stern-looking guard who proceeded to check my car from top to bottom – taking special care to frown at the Star Wars stickers on the back window – before he finished by shoving a stick with a mirror on it underneath the car.
    “What’s that for?”
    “We’re checking to make sure you aren’t bringing a bomb onto the premises,” the guard answered dully.
    “Does that happen a lot?”
    “Never. Because we check all vehicles for bombs.”
    “You don’t get a lot of dates, do you?”
    The guard fixed me with his icy blue eyes. “You’re cleared for entry Ms. Shaw. If you park in that lot right there, the public affairs officer will be out to pick you up in five minutes.”
    “You’re kidding, right?”
    The guard smiled. “No. It’s standard procedure.”
    “What do you think people are going to try and do? Sneak in and steal the secrets to . . . what do you guys even do out here? Do you have any secrets? I doubt it.”
    “Ma’am, if you will just pull your vehicle over there, someone will be with you shortly.”
    “Why did you take the time to check my car for a bomb if you’re just going to make me park it in a field?”
    “It’s . . .”
    “Standard procedure, I know. This morning just sucks,” I grumbled.
    The guard ignored the statement, but I saw in the rearview mirror that he watched me until I pulled into the lot, put my car in park and turned off the engine.
    The public affairs officer was prompt, and exactly what I expected: A middle-aged man in a pressed cotton shirt with perfectly ironed pleats in his pants and a bald spot on the back of his head. “I’m Sgt. Dan Harmon.”
    “Avery Shaw,” I held out my hand.
    “Please get in my vehicle and I’ll take you to Commander Turner.”
    “I can’t wait.”
    “Yes, he’s very impressive,” Dan nodded with a wide – and obviously fake – smile. He wanted me to think he was oblivious to sarcasm when he obviously wasn’t. That didn’t make me think he was charming, just suspicious.
    “So, why am I out here?” I decided to press the situation.
    “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Sgt. Harmon said evasively. “You’re out here for an interview with Commander Turner.”
    “Yeah, but you called my editor to request it,” I pushed on. “That’s not standard operating procedure.”
    “You’ll have to ask