Arlington, Virginia

October 5, 1993

2:00 p.m.

He pinched her left ring finger between his thumb and forefinger, pressing it first onto a pad of black ink then rolling it onto the official card. His fingers were thick as sausages, nails clipped in neat lines, dark hair sprouting above and below the knuckles. Bridget watched as the ink seeped into her skin, like a permanent stain with a sharp chemical smell.

He led her towards a locked metal door and swiped his badge. The door clicked open on a carpeted hallway. At the end, they entered a formal sitting room with blue chintz armchairs, mahogany end tables, and hunting scenes framed in brushed gold. The two large windows were draped with plush burgundy and gauzy liners that shrouded much of the view. A woman in a brown suit stepped forward from the curtains. Bridget jumped back.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” the woman said. Neatly drawn maroon lines highlighted the curves of her lips. Her hair was whitish-blond, clipped into a page-boy. “Special Agent Chase,” she said, extending her hand. “Agent Wilkinson will administer the polygraph. I’m here to monitor the equipment and data.”

A thicket of colored wire crowned a large black box on the floor. Another box with needles and knobs sat on the table, and next to that was a printer with a thick roll of green paper neatly scrolled in the front.

“All that?” Bridget asked, her voice catching.

“We’ll walk you through it.” Wilkinson pointed her to a seat facing the window. All she could see was the stone tip of the Washington Monument in the distance.

“We’ll start with the easy questions first,” Wilkinson said. He knelt beside her and taped a red wire probe to her right forearm. “We have to establish a base line.” He placed green wires on her left arm and looped them into a pad on her fingertip. She avoided looking at the wires and studied the faint blue-green streaks of her veins. Corpsmen had trouble drawing her blood. Maybe the deepness of her veins would skew the readings. A trickle of sweat leaked down her back. She tapped the armrest with her right finger, and the wires began to shake.

Wilkinson noticed the tapping before she did. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Everyone’s nervous during these.”

“I’m not nervous,” she said too quickly.

Wilkinson waited for her to look at him then offered a half-smile. “Nerves are usually a good sign.”

At his request, she removed her jacket and unbuttoned the top button of her uniform blouse. He pressed cool metal disks against the flesh along the rim of her bra. He taped another probe to her ankle and slid a cuff up over her right bicep. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest.

Wilkinson stood. “I have to ask you to keep your elbows in the corner of the armrests. The slightest movement can cause interference.”

He stepped back behind the chair out of her line of sight. “We’re ready,” he said. He did not step back into view. He asked for her full name, nickname, address, date and place of birth.

She recited the facts dutifully: “Bridget Jean Donovan. Arlington Gateway, Apartment 1127, Arlington, Virginia. March 4, 1968. Boston, Massachusetts.”

He turned a page. “When did you join the Navy?”

“I was sworn into the Naval Academy July 5, 1986, commissioned May 25, 1990.”

“One of the first classes of women?”

“The tenth.”

“That must’ve been tough.”

“You could say that.” She gauged the silence. His voice had been friendly, almost inviting. People often wanted to hear more about the Academy, women especially, but she didn’t like to talk about it. A vision of Audrey flashed in her mind, and she pressed her eyes shut at the memory.

“At the Naval Academy you had an honor code, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” came out of her mouth before she could stop it. Academy memories always spawned the “sir” response. She reminded herself that the Navy Investigative Service agents were not her superiors. She owed answers and professional courtesy—that was all.

“Can you repeat the Honor Code for me?”

“Midshipmen do not lie, cheat, or steal.”

“Did you ever violate the Honor Code?” he asked.

Her heart fluttered and the wires attached to her arm began to quiver. The real question, she thought, wasn’t whether she had violated the code, but why. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out long and slow. “Yes, I did.”

“How many times?” Wilkinson asked.

“I got some help on a computer program once. Really, I copied a guy’s work. I didn’t understand it, and I passed it in.”

He pressed on. “Outside of this occasion with the computer program did you always follow the honor code?”

She felt her heart shrink. Honor. The word still had a powerful, instinctual hold. “The computer incident is the one I remember most precisely,” she said. Of course, that was a lie. Her right pointer quivered, and she pressed it into the armrest.

Wilkinson tapped a pencil on his clipboard. Chase unscrolled more paper.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Bridget jerked her head towards Wilkinson. Her private life had no business in the investigation. “No,” she said.

“I see.” Wilkinson stopped tapping his pencil and cleared his throat. “Did you know Audrey Richards?”

Bridget swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“How did you know her?”

“She was my roommate at the Academy for four years.”

“Were you aware that Lieutenant Richards was trying to qualify as one of the first female pilots in a combat squadron?”

“Yes.”

“When did you last talk with her?”

“A year ago, maybe a little longer.”

“A year?”

“She was in flight training. She was busy.”

“No other communication?”

“No.”

“No letters?”

Bridget mustered some indignation. “We’d been out of touch. We were both busy with our own careers.”

“Did you consider her a friend?”

“Yes, I do. I mean I did. I do. I don’t know.”

“Captain Fangmeyer said you were assigned to the news desk following the first report of the accident?”

“That’s correct.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“It was good to work.”

“Did you have any concerns about anything you saw or heard?”

She hesitated. “My friend was dead. I had a lot of concerns. I still do.”

“You know there’s been a series of leaks to the press about the investigation.”

“I’ve seen the reports.”

“Do you have any information about that?”

She stayed silent.

“The Washington Post ran an article recently that quoted a ‘defense official’—do you know who that person might be?”

Again, she made no answer.

“Lieutenant Donovan, are you aware that it’s against Navy policy to provide personnel documents to the media, especially ones that contain classified or sensitive information?”

She snorted. “I helped write the guidelines on Navy media inquiries. My job is to speak to the press.”

“I’m going to ask you again. Do you have any information about the material that was supplied to a Mr. Gleason?”

She lifted her hands, and the wires dangled. “Is that really all you want to know?”

“Please, your hands,” Wilkinson said.

“Why are reporters the only people interested in what caused the accident?”

“The Navy’s had investigators on the case from the beginning,” he said.

“No one’s asked me for information.”

“Do you know something?”

Somewhere in the building a compressor kicked on and the radiator vents hissed. Wilkinson inhaled with a wheeze. The thing about silence was that it was never really silent. In those moments when the world fell quiet, memories rushed through her head in whispers that seemed louder than shouts. Bridget didn’t move. She tried not to breathe. Finally she said, “My lawyer advised me not to answer any questions about the case without him present.”

“Does your lawyer know you’re under suspicion for releasing official Navy documents and conspiring to interfere with an investigation?”

“What?”

Wilkinson stepped in front of her. “We’re conducting an investigation into a security breach. Cases involving the release of classified information are required by law to be investigated. They are punishable by court martial.”

“There was nothing classified in the newspaper.”

“The entire Richards file is classified.”

Bridget looked towards Wilkinson, but he dodged back out of view. Her heart was beating wildly. “Since when?”

“This morning.”

“I see.” Bridget sank back into the chair. “Are we finished yet?”

“With the preliminary questions. We’ll need to see you again. You’re not to leave the metropolitan area without notice, and you must be accessible by phone.”

Wilkinson knelt in front of her and untaped the wires. Chase bent over the machine, extracting the coil of paper. “I’m going to give you some advice,” Wilkinson said. “These preliminary readings.” He gestured to Chase, who unrolled the paper, a long pink graph like a cardiogram read-out, and laid it on the table. Wilkinson pointed at the peaks and quivering lines. The entire sheet looked as though it were filled with parabolic sine curves. Up, down, up down. “This is classic text-book. We don’t see it like this too often. If you’ve done something wrong”—he paused and smoothed back his hair—“you won’t get away with it.”

Bridget looked him in the eye. “The one who got away with something is still out there.”

He shook his head. “You’re a terrible liar.”

–Edward W. Jewell, CDR, USN (ret)

I don’t know but I’ve been told, Naval Academy novels are made of gold…at least Black Wings seems that way.

–Alan Cheuse, author of Songs of Slaves in the Desert

Part thriller, part whodunit, I couldn’t put the book down.

–Todd Balf, The Last Jungle, The Lost River.

Told in taut, fast-moving chapters, Jabs’s suspenseful novel rings with authenticity.

– Jon Peede, publisher, Virginia Quarterly Review.

A chilling, fast-paced, and intelligent story, wonderfully written.

–Susan Shreeve, A Student of Living Things.

Compelling mystery told with the authenticity that can come only from an author who knows the territory.  A terrific addition to current, military fiction.

–Tom Young, Silent Enemy, the Mullah’s Storm.

Losing the connection with your child is one of the most horrifying things many mothers will face.

–The Midwest Book Review

The Mother-Daughter Show is a wise and lively look at real grown-ups, alleged adults, and women-in-training.  The characters are wonderfully rendered and the setting, the ultimate, upscale private school in Washington, D.C., is perfect for author Natalie Wexler’s satire.

- Susan Isaacs, New York Times bestselling author of As Husbands Go, Past Perfect, and others

The Barton Friends School’s mother daughter musical is the stage on which the wildly talented Natalie Wexler plays out the foibles, insecurities, and imperfections that plague us all. Every page of this very contemporary page-turner is written with a heartfelt, humorous touch, with characters so vivid and real, they came to feel like friends I’d known forever. I loved the satirical look at the world of private schools, and I cherished the way it inspired me to feel: that ultimately it takes all of us, opening our hearts and turning to each other, for the show of life to go on.

- Rachel Simon, New York Times bestselling author of The Story of Beautiful Girl, Riding the Bus With My Sister, and others

A terrific read. Told from the alternating points of view of Amanda, Susan and Barb, the book touches the dangerous heart of the mother-daughter relationship and captures an intimate portrait of these flawed and entirely sympathetic mothers.  It’s funny and heartbreaking and so credible I laughed out loud.  But oh, do I remember this story as my own!

-Susan Richards Shreve, author of Warm Springs: Traces of a Childhood at FDR’s Polio Haven, A Student of Living Things, and others

These housewives of D.C. may be privileged, but they are nonetheless sandwiched between the rocks of their ailing mothers’ needs and the hard places of their unreadable daughters’ imminent graduation. Toss in a few marital and professional insecurities, and who can blame them if some of their stress gets displaced onto the planning of the annual musical? Witty and wise throughout, The Mother Daughter Show highlights Natalie Wexler’s keen perceptions—of family dynamics, social mores, and professional subcultures—and reminds us of life’s one constant: change.

- Erika Dreifus, author of Quiet Americans

A fish out of water memoir about realizing when one is in too deep and struggling to survive,

–Midwest Book Review

Mark Saunders is the classic American innocent abroad, part clueless tourist, part critic, and always a lover. Humor crackles on every page.

–Foster Church , Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and author of Discovering Main Street

Humorist Mark Saunders has invigorated the memoir form by delivering clever, tightly written comic episodes with hilarity and heart. You’ll laugh out loud at these lovable, yet often inept, mid-life expats and their eccentric pets. A breezy, delightful read!

–Kathleen Gerard, award-winning author of In Transit

If you treasure great American humorists—be they Thurber or Perelman, Barry or Sedaris—you’ll love Mark Saunders. His story is as witty as it is wise, a full-course feast for head, heart and funny bone.

–Rich Rubin, Playwright

Thank you, Mark Saunders, for being the one to break out of the rat race, soar off the cliff into the unknown, and live to tell us this heartwarming and hilarious true story. This is one smart, funny, real-life adventure.

–Cynthia Whitcomb, TV Writer and Playwright

January 8th

P U B L I S H E D B O O K ‘ B L ACK W INGS’

Naval Academy grad spins a novel of military intrigue

By Irene Bowers

Correspondent

BAYSIDE

In the rigidly defined world of a fictionalized 1980s-era U.S. Naval Academy, a female underclassman struggles to live up to an honor code that allows no middle ground.

After graduation, the now junior officer is tasked with handling media relations on a story that may mask a scandal and finds that the military model of justice is still subject to error and possible abuse.

Intrigue follows in the debut novel “Black Wings,” written by Virginia Beach resident and 1988 Naval Academy graduate Kathleen Toomey Jabs, who traces the challenges and choices of the book’s protagonist, Lt. Bridget Donovan, with a deft hand.

Jabs, who graduated from the academy 12 years after females were integrated, is also a Naval reservist and serves as a public affairs officer for the Joint Staff. She said her military career allowed her to write the novel with authenticity.

“However, it is entirely fictional,” she said, noting that none of the events or characters are based on actual people, places or incidents. “It started as several short stories in a writing program in 2001, where my professor would say it was a novel in the making.” Later, as a Master of Fine Arts candidate at George Mason University, Jabs was inspired to turn her short stories into a 500-page novel. “Then it went out into the real world of publishing,” she said. “After multiple revisions, I was told it wouldn’t work, so I put the thing in a drawer and moved on.”

A busy mother of two teenagers and wife of an active-duty military member, Jabs ignored the story until she was contacted in 2008 by a former Naval Academy instructor, who had started a publishing house.

“She read it and suggested that I rewrite it as a mystery,” said the Thoroughgood resident, who then became a writing sleuth of sorts at home.

“There were days when I had it spread around the floor like a puzzle, trying to figure out how to add tension and still make sense of it.” The result is a mystery that goes beyond a whodunit. After the introduction of a suspicious death on an aircraft carrier, readers are carried into the insular world of the Naval Academy community on black wings, a fictitious blackening of aviator pilot’s gold wings insignia.

An ominous warning sign, black wings overshadow the fine line between justice and vengeance, integrity and dishonor. Released in December by Fuze Publishing, “Black Wings” is billed as “an intelligent, thought provoking novel.”

“It’s thrilling and slightly nerve-wracking to be published,” said Jabs, who is contemplating a sequel for her main character. One benefit, she admits, was holiday gift-giving.

“It made Christmas for my family easy – they all got a copy.”

“Black Wings” is available at www.fuzepublishing.com or on www.amazon.com.

Irene Bowers, bowersi@aol.com

IRENE BOWERS

Kathleen Toomey Jabs, a 1988 Naval Academy graduate, is a mother of two teenagers and a Navy wife. She calls her novel, “Black Wings,” authentic but “entirely fictional.”

“We’ll start with the easy questions first,” Wilkinson said. He knelt beside her and taped a red wire probe to her right forearm. “We have to establish a base line.” He placed green wires on her left arm and looped them into a pad on her fingertip attached to the lie detector machine. She avoided looking at the wires and studied the faint blue-green streaks of her veins. A trickle of sweat leaked down her back. She tapped the armrest with her right finger, and the wires began to shake.

Wilkinson noticed the tapping before she did. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Everyone’s nervous during these.”

“I’m not nervous,” she said too quickly.

Wilkinson waited for her to look at him then offered a half-smile. “Nerves are usually a good sign.”

At his request, she removed her jacket and unbuttoned the top button of her uniform blouse. He pressed cool metal disks against the flesh along the rim of her bra. He taped another probe to her ankle and slid a cuff up over her right bicep. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest.

Wilkinson stood. “I’ll have to ask you to keep your elbows in the corner of the armrests. Even the slightest movement can cause interference.”

He stepped back behind the chair out of her line of sight. “We’re ready,” he said. He did not step back into view. He asked for her full name, nickname, address, date and place of birth.

She recited the facts dutifully: “Bridget Jean Donovan. Arlington Gateway, Apartment 1127, Arlington, Virginia. March 4, 1968. Boston, Massachusetts.”

He turned a page. “When did you join the Navy?”

“I was sworn into the Naval Academy July 5, 1986, commissioned May 25, 1990.”

“One of the first classes of women?”

“The tenth.”

“That must’ve been tough.”

“You could say that.” She gauged the silence. His voice had been friendly, almost inviting. People often wanted to hear more about the Academy, women especially, but she didn’t like to talk about it. A vision of Audrey flashed in her mind, and she pressed her eyes shut at the memory.

“At the Naval Academy you had an honor code, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” came out of her mouth before she could stop it. Academy memories always spawned the “sir” response. She reminded herself that the Navy Investigative Service agents were not her superiors. She owed answers and professional courtesy—that was all.

“Can you repeat the Honor Code for me?”

“Midshipmen do not lie, cheat, or steal.”

“Did you ever violate the Honor Code?” he asked.

Her heart fluttered and the wires attached to her arm began to quiver. The real question, she thought, wasn’t whether she had violated the code, but why. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out long and slow. “Yes, I did.”

“How many times?” Wilkinson asked.

“I got some help on a computer program once. Really, I copied a guy’s work. I didn’t understand it, and I passed it in.”

He pressed on. “Outside of this occasion with the computer program did you always follow the honor code?”

She felt her heart shrink. Honor. The word still had a powerful, instinctual hold. “The computer incident is the one I remember most precisely,” she said. Of course, that was a lie.

Kathleen talked with Fuze about her real-life tenure at the United States Naval Academy in the 1980’s.

Why did you decide to apply to the United States Naval Academy?

I honestly didn’t know what I wanted to do after high school. I was very interested in math and ocean science, and I wanted to travel. I happened to pick up a USNA catalog, and I found myself intrigued by the challenge and the opportunities the Navy offered.

What was the most challenging thing about being a woman at the USNA in the eighties?

The scarcity of other women! My class started with about 110 women–out of 1100 midshipmen overall–and finished with about 80. We were scattered throughout the brigade and with all the academic and athletic requirements, there wasn’t always the opportunity to be around other women who were senior, junior, or peers.  Because of the number of rules and time constraints and the absence of phones or computers back then, the sense of isolation could be overwhelming at times.

What was the most rewarding experience while at the Naval Academy?

I went on an English Honor Seminar trip to Ireland the summer before my senior year. We spent the year reading Ulysses, then traveled to Dublin for a week to retrace James Joyce’s steps, and finally went over to Sligo for a seminar on the Irish poet William Butler Yeats. It was an amazing learning experience.

What do you think has changed the most in terms of the role of women in the military?

The sheer number of opportunities available to women has meant that females in the military are no longer anomalies.  The Navy has opened up many fields that were restricted – ships, combat aircraft, now submarines. There are very few places in the Navy where you don’t see women. While there are still “firsts” for women, gender is no longer the focus.

Why should people attend the USNA

Attending USNA tests a midshipman in every way possible – mental, physical and emotional – and teaches one’s limits and capacity.  The service Academy environment is purposefully stressful, but it builds confidence to meet challenges and to work through problems.

Are you glad that you went to the Academy?

I wouldn’t trade my time at the Academy because it’s made me who I am today. I didn’t always enjoy it, and I would’ve done some things differently, but I appreciate the experience.

Are you still connected to classmates you met while a midshipman?

There is definitely a bond among classmates and then a stronger one among graduates. I’ve recently started to attend Naval Academy Alumni breakfasts in my area and re-connected with some women from different classes. We have an instant comfort level and understanding of what we’ve all endured and survived.

You currently hold the rank of Captain.  Why did you stay in the Navy for your career?

I got out of the Navy after six years, but I missed it. My husband is active duty Navy so we were still around the military. I decided to join the Navy reserve, so I could still participate to some extent in the national security arena and maintain a career. When I moved into the public affairs field, I found a specialty that I really enjoyed.

Would you recommend the USNA to women today?

Yes, and I would also recommend that while they are there, join a sports team or another type of activity with a lot of women. My knees went bad, so I wasn’t able to stay with track during my tenure. I participated in club sports, but it wasn’t the same level of sharing and commitment. There is something reaffirming about bonding with women because many of the experiences at the Academy highlight gender.  Looking back, I realize I was hungry for female role models.  Events as seemingly simple as a Homecoming Dance or a date are much more complicated when you’re a female midshipman. The tension between being one of the guys but also not made boundaries very fluid, especially at an age where you’re very young and vulnerable.

What do you hope might change in the future?

I would like to continue to see the expansion in the military and in the larger government of better ways to blend parenthood and service. There are so many talented Academy graduates and military veterans who would love to be of service, but it’s very difficult balancing parenting demands and full-time careers. As a country, we need to find creative ways of tapping into the incredible potential of women, while at the same time allowing men and women the space and time to raise a family.

“Black Wings is a fascinating  novel written by CDR Kathleen Jabs, a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, about the lives of three young female naval officers.  The narrative shifts between details of events early in Academy life and later in their careers. The US Navy is an old institution with  a profoundly male identity and traditions dating back to the British Royal Navy.  Women had a difficult time gaining acceptance into this masculine fraternity. The action in Black Wings takes place in the 1980’s and early 90’s when female Midshipmen were still new.  They often faced deep resentment, hazing and scorn by male Mids.  Jabs brilliantly brings out the struggles of young women trying to survive this environment to become Naval officers while also maintaining personal and gender pride.  She has written an exciting novel of intrigue (no details–don’t want to spoil the surprise) and romance loaded with meticulous, realistic plot details that display the author’s wealth of Navy experience and keen powers of observation. Black Wings is an intelligent, powerful, and thought-provoking novel.”   Edward W. Jewell, CDR, USN (ret)

“Part thriller, part whodunit, I couldn’t put the book down.”  Todd Balf, The Last Jungle, The Lost River.

“I don’t know but I’ve been told, Naval Academy novels are made of gold…At least Black Wings seems that way.”  Alan Cheuse, Song of Slaves in the Desert.

“Told in taut, fast-moving chapters, Jabs’s suspenseful novel rings with authenticity.”  Jon Peede, publisher, Virginia Quarterly Review.

“A chilling, fast-paced, and intelligent story, wonderfully written.”  Susan Shreeve, A Student of Living Things.

“Compelling mystery told with the authenticity that can come only from an author who knows the territory.  A terrific addition to current, military fiction.”  Tom Young, Silent Enemy, the Mullah’s Storm.

How did you come up with the story for Black Wings?

Kathleen:  Actually, it came to me: I had a vision of a female pilot crashing into the sea. I hate flying, but I’ve always been fascinated by aviators.  I worked on this novel for almost ten years, with some breaks.  Over time Audrey evolved as the mysterious central character, her astonishing career witnessed by her roommate, Bridget, who must investigate her death.

Can you say a little about the title and what it refers to?

Kathleen:  The title is both a reference to a physical object and also a metaphor. In the Navy, people who are warfare qualified, such as aviators, wear a device on the pockets of their uniforms. In shorthand, the aviator device is referred to as “wings.” As Audrey pursues her dream of flying jets, sets of ominously black wings keep popping up in her path.

How did your experience at the Naval Academy add to the story?  Did you draw from real life experiences?

Kathleen:  I drew some of Bridget’s early adventures or mishaps from my own experiences. For example, she is originally from Boston and is not a particularly squared-away plebe when she arrives at the Academy. I’m also from Boston and I certainly had my share of culture shocks, especially during the first summer. Some found their way into the story, but I had to change them to fit with Bridget’s character, which is different from mine. As an officer, Bridget is part of the public affairs community. I’m also a public affairs officer or PAO.  I know that world so I had lots of real-life material to draw on, but I wasn’t constrained by it.  I used the Naval Academy grounds and the Pentagon, but I also took a lot of liberties. This is fiction!

What was the most difficult part of writing Black Wings?

Kathleen:  It was hard for me to untangle the story.  I wrote and rewrote the novel at least four times to get the sequencing and chronology right and to make sure the plot was coherent.  I had so many things happening, and I wanted Audrey’s voice to be a part of it.  I had to find a way to get her point of view across.

Can you say something about the role of women in the military—the difficulties, the triumphs—to which your book speaks?

Kathleen:  The changes for women in the military have been pretty far-reaching since I first affiliated with the military. One of the reasons why I set the book in the early 1990’s was to capture the time of change, churn, and firsts. When I joined the Navy in 1984, many issues were still being worked out, many career fields were off limits, and there was a fair amount of resentment towards women. Today women are much more integrated and have more opportunities. Not everything is resolved now – there will always be some tension, but that’s not necessarily a negative thing. Right now, military women are deployed around the world, showing their competence and professionalism in incredibly difficult situations. It’s very inspiring.

How would you rate your experience as one of the first women midshipmen at Annapolis?  Did it prepare you for life, how did it influence you?

Kathleen:  I had a first-rate education at the Naval Academy. It wasn’t a fun place to be by any means, but I had some pretty amazing opportunities, such as a chance to study in Ireland, to become fluent in Russian, and to be in really small classrooms with amazing professors, particularly in the English department. I don’t know if I would’ve taken a creative writing class if I’d gone to a civilian college. Molly Tinsley (co-founder of FUZE) was my professor and advisor. She nurtured my writing then and is still doing it now – 25 years later!  Another way the Academy influenced me was that I learned to be resilient, disciplined, and tenacious.  That certainly helped me stay with the novel for so long!

LT Bridget Donovan suspects the worst when her former Naval Academy roommate, Audrey Richards, perishes in a botched take-off from an aircraft carrier.  The Navy says it’s an accident, but facts don’t add up.  Could it be suicide, or murder?  Donovan’s unofficial investigation into what really happened, both during their past Academy days and in Richards’ final hours, forces her to examine the concepts of honor,  justice and the role of loyalty in pursuit of those ideals.

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