The

Bees So, you know, Goodfellow Air Force Base lies just east of downtown San Angelo in Texas.

It's a sprawling stretch of runways, dormitories, and dusty roads tucked into the heart of West Texas.

It isn't a base known for fighter jets or heavy artillery.

The mission here is quieter, sharper.

Here, intelligence specialists are shaped.

Cryptologic linguists, fire protection experts and signal analysts come to learn the skills that keep global operations running silently and effectively.

Den night students in uniform move between low-slung buildings and secure classrooms, carrying the weight of missions they can't talk about, preparing for futures in shadowy corners of the armed forces.

Goodfellow is a place of purpose of strict schedules and guarded perimeters.

But no amount of security can account for the unpredictable and the dangerous,

or the evil that sometimes walks in under a uniform like everyone else.

In early 1995, a young woman named Tracy McBride

had just arrived at Goodfellow. She was part of a fresh intake of trainees, disciplined, eager,

and proud to serve. Tracy was a long way from home but surrounded by comrades, and she was

settling in to her new life.

One quiet night in February, Tracy called a friend named Don Walker in Lino Lakes in Minnesota.

At first, the conversation was casual, light, but then the tone shifted.

Tracy's voice grew distracted, broken by hesitation.

In the background, Don could hear that somebody was with Tracy.

Seconds later, there was a scuffle, and then the phone line went dead. Centerville and Minnesota sits quietly among the lakes and forests of the Upper Midwest.

It's a close-knit town, and one that the McBride family called home.

Jim and Irene McBride were fixtures of the local church and their three children were brought up within the fold of the redeeming love church. Sunday wasn't

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