Lost Girls Read Online Free

that statement?
    “Whatever he told you, about what we have to do up here this afternoon, I want you to know you’re in good hands. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise.”
    Sherry nodded, but she wasn’t thinking about the mission anymore.
    “He’s been retired as long as I’ve known him, Captain,” she said. “I’m forty-four, Miss Moore. I joined the navy straight out of college. I did three years under the admiral in the Gulf. He was my CO during Desert Shield.”
    Sherry pulled off her own headphones. “You served together?” she said, surprised.
    “He never talked about the Gulf?”
    She shook her head. “He never talked about the navy. I always imagined he was a bureaucrat. You know, life behind a desk.”
    Metcalf was silent again, but now Sherry wanted more.
    “He told me he was stateside at the Pentagon.” Sherry wanted to keep the conversation moving.
    Metcalf grunted.
    She was losing him. He was getting defensive again.
    “He said he pushed papers,” Sherry prodded.
    Metcalf actually snorted.
    “Well, tell me!” she blurted out, and immediately she regretted it.
    There was a moment, a crossroads moment. Sherry knew she had either lost him or broken through.
    “Did the admiral ever speak of DEVGRU?” he said at last.
    Sherry shook her head. “No. What’s it mean?”
    “It’s an acronym for development group. The admiral chaired the special warfare development group in the Pentagon. This was following the First Gulf War.”
    Sherry’s expression was blank. Chaired, she thought, trying not to be cynical. He had probably “chaired” a dozen committees at the rank of admiral, which meant he delegated assignments to rear admirals and subordinate commanders. No big deal about that.
    “What’s so special about DEVGRU?” she asked.
    “Let’s just say there was nothing trivial about the kinds of papers he pushed.”
    “Tell me about DEVGRU. What kind of development…” she began, but Metcalf put a hand on her shoulder, leaning close to keep from being heard by the pilots. “Ma’am, I don’t feel comfortable talking about Admiral Brigham behind his back. I was just trying to make conversation.”
    With that he put the headphones back on and Sherry knew it was over. He wasn’t being unpleasant, but he’d reached his limit of conversation.
    She sat quietly for a moment. Then she leaned into him, shoulder pressing against his bicep. “Thank you, Captain. I just want you to know I understand that this can’t be easy for you. I know how odd you must think it is, my being here. Maybe even a waste of your time.”
    “Miss Moore,” he said, abruptly pulling the headphones away. “I started this day with nineteen hours of daylight and a suggestion from Admiral Brigham that bringing you here was worth every hour doing it. That might not carry a lot of weight in the civilian world, but if Admiral Brigham also suggested you could fly this helicopter to Denali, I’d be strapping in next to you, so you see I do not take the admiral’s suggestions lightly. Plan on doing whatever it is you came here to do and have faith that I’ll keep you safe while you’re doing it. When we get my sister off this mountain, you will have the most grateful man on the planet at your beck and call.”
    Sherry had to smile, but then she sensed Metcalf wasn’t smiling, so she pulled her microphone back in place and shifted nervously in her seat.
    There were goose bumps on her arms. Not because she was cold, but from the sheer gravitas of the man. He was, she thought, one of the most intense human beings she had ever met.
    The obvious consequence of Metcalf’s unwavering belief in Admiral Brigham’s word was to assume an unwavering belief of his own. A belief, though he knew nothing independently about her, that she was capable of assisting them by doing something a reasonable person might think impossible. It wasn’t logical by any stretch of the imagination. Faith wasn’t a transferable entity