Chương 6
He always did that.
He could assemble equipment in darkness and read terrain by moonlight, but he could not seal an envelope straight.
I ran my thumb over his handwriting.
For Claire if needed.
I had written the words because he had asked me to label it.
He had put whatever was inside the envelope there himself.
That had been eleven months ago, before his final deployment, before the casualty notification, before my body changed, before my family began moving through our house like temporary managers of a property whose owner had disappeared.
I had forgotten the envelope existed.
That frightened me more than I expected.
Grief had not merely made time strange.
It had taken pieces of my own life and hidden them where I could not reach.
Ortiz lifted the tablet from Julian’s bag with gloved hands.
She held it by the edges.
“Ma’am, indicator appears triggered by physical connection, not just charging.”
“Copy.”
Julian flinched at the word.
I watched him.
“Did you plug it into your computer?”
He rubbed his lips again.
“Yes.”
Harper stared at him.
“You told me you only tried the tablet.”
“I did try the tablet.”
“With your laptop?”
“It wouldn’t turn on.”
“So you connected it.”
“I thought maybe it needed power.”
Ross returned.
His expression was professionally blank.
That meant somebody on the other end of the call had said something serious enough to strip emotion out of the conversation.
“Ma’am, CID has been notified.”
My mother whispered, “CID?”
“Criminal Investigation Division,” Harper said automatically.
We all looked at her.
She gave a helpless little shrug.
“I watch television.”
It was such a Harper response that, for one second, I nearly smiled.
Then Ross continued.
“They want the device preserved exactly as found.”
Ortiz nodded.
“Already documented.”
Ross looked toward Julian.
“Sir, investigators will need to speak with you.”
Julian’s face hardened.
“Do I need an attorney?”
Ross did not hesitate.
“That is your decision.”
It was the right answer.
Julian heard everything inside it.
Harper stood.
“Julian, why would you need an attorney?”
“I didn’t say I did.”
“You asked.”
“Because soldiers showed up and somebody said criminal investigation.”
“You plugged a military tablet into your laptop.”
“I didn’t know it was military.”
“You knew it wasn’t yours.”
He looked at her.
She looked back.
Something between them shifted visibly.
Not collapsed.
Not yet.
But shifted.
My father walked toward the kitchen.
“I’m making coffee.”
Nobody stopped him.
It was seven in the morning.
There was already coffee.
He made another pot anyway.
I understood the impulse.
Some people prayed when frightened.
My father measured coffee grounds.
My mother finally touched Harper’s shoulder.
Harper jerked away.
“Please don’t.”
My mother’s hand dropped.
“I was just—”
“I know.”
Harper looked at the open trunk.
Her silk robe was too thin for the garage, and goose bumps had risen along her arms.
“You should get a sweater,” I said.
She stared at me.
The suggestion seemed to offend her more than anything I had said.
Then she looked down at herself.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering.”
“I said I’m fine.”
There were tears in her eyes now.
She hated crying in front of people.
As a child she used to get furious whenever she fell hard enough to cry, as if pain had embarrassed her.
At fourteen she broke her wrist roller-skating and spent the entire drive to urgent care insisting it was a sprain because admitting she was hurt felt somehow worse than the injury.
I had forgotten that.
Or maybe I had not thought about it in years.
Ross checked his phone.
“Ma’am, they’re sending two agents.”
“How long?”
“Approximately twenty-five minutes.”
Our departure window was gone.
He did not say it.
Neither did I.
I looked toward the lead vehicle.
Another soldier sat behind the wheel, waiting.
Duty did not disappear because my family had decided to search a bedroom.
There were people expecting me somewhere I could not name.
There were orders that had already been delayed once because I buried my husband.
I felt irritation rise inside me, hot and unfair.
Not at Julian.
Not only at Julian.
At David.
The anger arrived so quickly I nearly recoiled from it.
He had died and left me carrying the classified consequences of his life, our child, our mortgage, my parents, his paperwork, my command, and now a compromised device in a freezing garage on Thanksgiving morning.
I hated him for perhaps three seconds.
Then I hated myself for that.
My stomach cramped.
I bent slightly.
Ortiz moved toward me.
“Ma’am?”
“I’m okay.”
She did not believe me.
“Have you eaten?”
The question irritated me because the answer was no.
“I had coffee.”
“That was not the question.”
Ross glanced at her.
Ortiz ignored him.
I stared at her.
She had the expression of someone prepared to risk career advancement over a granola bar.
“I’m pregnant, Captain, not fragile.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She reached into the vehicle anyway and came back with a wrapped protein bar.
“Then you can eat this aggressively.”
Ross looked away.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
It hurt.
The laugh became something else halfway through, and I covered my mouth.
I did not cry.
I stood there breathing through the ache until it passed.
Ortiz held out the bar.
I took it.
“Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Harper watched the exchange.
Her face looked strange.
Not jealous.
Not exactly.
She looked like she had discovered I belonged to a world in which people knew how to care for me without asking permission.
That realization seemed to wound her.
She went inside without a word.
My mother followed.
Julian remained beside his car.
Ross positioned himself between Julian and the tablet without making the movement obvious.
I opened the protein bar.
It tasted like compressed sawdust with artificial chocolate.
David had loved this brand.
May you like
He used to buy them by the box and complain they were terrible while continuing to eat them.
I swallowed two bites.
