Ex Marks the Spot

Itwas a crack house. Andi was sure of it. Her jaw tight, she stood at the bedroom window of the house she'd rented sight unseen in the small community of Gulf Springs, on northwest Florida's Santa Rosa Island. Tipping the miniblinds, she peered at the property next door. It was late, well past midnight, but cars had been coming and going ever since Andi lugged her suitcases upstairs an hour ago. The shadowy figures she'd spotted slipping in and out of the house had first alerted her to possible suspicious activity. The second clue was the unkempt front yard sprouting tall, thorny weeds that glinted like silver in the moonlight. Shuttered windows blocked any view of the interior, but Andi had caught a glimpse of what looked liked piles of trash in the foyer when the front door had opened to admit yet another late arrival. Dammit! She should have known better than to rent this place without flying down from D.C. to check it out first. The realtor had assured her this beach community was quiet and upscale and more than seventy percent military. Not surprising, given the sprawling Air Force base located just across the Inland Waterway from Gulf Springs. The eager Realtor had insisted Andi would fit right in with the other military retirees populating the area. Retirees. God! Her mouth twisted. She hadn't gotten used to the label yet. Also not surprising, since she'd shed her uniform for the last time all of sixteen and a half hours ago. Then she'd tossed her bags into her car, turned over the keys to her D.C. condo to the new owners and made the drive to the Florida panhandle. She hadn't planned to arrive until tomorrow, but once on the interstate she'd simply kept going. So here she was, eyes gritty from lack of sleep, surrounded by as yet unpacked suitcases and retired at the ripe old age of forty-one. Who woulda thunk it? Certainly not Colonel Andrea Armstrong. Until four months ago, retirement had been only a hazy notion on the horizon. Andi had never really given it much thought. The Air Force was her life, the only life she'd ever known. Her dad had also been career military. Andi and her sister had grown up at bases all over the world. Carol had rebelled against constant moves and being forced to leave friends behind, but Andi had thrived on their family's gypsy life. She'd joined the Air Force herself right out of college and loved every minute of her military career. Well, almost every minute. She could have done without that tour in Iraq. Her mouth grim, she fingered the tiny scar on the right side of her chin. She'd been all the way across the square when the IED went off. The explosion had knocked her flat and detonated an accompanying burst of shock and adrenaline. She hadn't even felt the shrapnel slice into her chin. Lunging to her feet, Andi had raced across the square to take charge of rescue-and-recovery efforts. Sometime during those chaotic hours she'd managed to pick up a desert-borne bacterium that stumped the docs and proved irritatingly resistant to antibiotics. Andi didn't realize she'd been infected until almost six months after she'd rotated back to the States and a high-stress job with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. By then the bug had burrowed into her heart muscle. Next thing Andi knew, she'd been evaluated by a medical board and landed on the Temporary Disability Retirement list. Except she didn'tfeeldisabled, temporary or otherwise. So she had to pace herself, have regular blood tests and echocardiograms? So she was taking a regular cocktail of antibiotics? Big deal. The eval board had indicated she could apply to return to active duty in a year or so, assuming she beat the bug. The trick was figuring out what the heck to do with herself in the meantime. Without the regimen that had shaped her life, she felt lost, cut adrift, alone. Disgusted, she shook her head. Okay! All right! Cut the self-pityLovelace, Merline is the author of 'Ex Marks the Spot ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373881314 and ISBN 0373881312.