Chương 1
"The badge on Fiona’s chest caught the patio lights when she lifted her champagne glass, and I knew before she opened her mouth that she was going to lie about it again.
It was pinned above her left pocket with the careful precision of something attached ten minutes before guests arrived.
Too clean, too bright, not a scratch near the clasp.
I barely noticed the diamond Donovan had given her.
Around us, my father’s backyard had been turned into the sort of engagement party Fiona liked to pretend she found embarrassing while quietly making sure everyone photographed.
White lights hung between the oak trees, rented tables crowded the lawn, and somebody had arranged gold balloons around a wooden sign with Fiona and Donovan’s names painted in looping script.
My father, Arthur, had spent most of the evening steering guests toward Fiona as though he were personally responsible for her existence.
“That’s my girl,” he said whenever anyone mentioned her uniform.
By the fourth time, he had added, “One of the deadliest elites in the military.”
Fiona never corrected him.
She smiled into her champagne and let people decide what “deadliest elites” meant.
I stood near the patio door with club soda and a lime wedge that had collapsed into the bottom of my glass.
I had learned years ago that correcting Arthur in public only made him louder.
He mistook disagreement for a challenge to his authority, and Fiona had inherited that habit along with his dark eyes and his talent for making a room feel like an audience.
I had inherited our mother’s habit of going quiet when angry.
Arthur considered that weakness.
“You hiding over here?”
Donovan appeared beside me carrying two empty beer bottles.
“I’m standing.”
“That’s technically different.”
He glanced toward Fiona.
His smile faded slightly.
“Your dad has told the sniper story three times.”
“Four.”
“Four?”
“He told the caterer.”
Donovan laughed before realizing I wasn’t joking.
The caterer was twenty feet away collecting abandoned plates and looked profoundly uninterested in military biographies.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“That sounded convincing.”
“I work in logistics.”
“Is that a logistics answer?”
“It means I can make the same statement six ways without giving you useful information.”
That got a real laugh from him.
I liked Donovan more than I had expected to when Fiona first brought him home.
He was an emergency-room nurse, broad-shouldered without being showy about it, and possessed of a practical patience that seemed almost incompatible with my sister.
He also listened when people answered questions, which meant I had spent the past three months wondering how long it would take him to notice the gaps in Fiona’s stories.
Apparently, the answer was until his uncle Raymond arrived.
Raymond had retired from the Army and spent dinner mostly discussing fishing until Arthur brought up Fiona’s advanced marksmanship training.
“You should tell Ray about Wraith,” Arthur said.
My fingers tightened around my glass.
Fiona’s eyes flicked toward me.
Only for a second.
Then she smiled.
“Dad loves that story.”
“Because it’s a damn good story.”
Arthur leaned across the table.
“Tell him what that instructor said.”
Fiona gave a little shrug.
“You mean Wraith?”
Raymond stopped cutting his steak.
“Wraith?”
“You know him?”
“I know of a couple instructors who used that call sign.”
Fiona relaxed again.
“Well, mine was ruthless.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Absolutely brutal.”
“What course?”
Donovan asked.
Fiona looked at him.
The pause was small enough that most people probably missed it.
I didn’t.
Neither did Raymond.
“The advanced course.”
“Which one?”
Donovan asked.
Arthur gave him an amused look.
“Jesus, son, let the woman eat.”
“I’m curious.”
Fiona laughed.
“He gets like this.”
Then she turned toward Raymond.
“Wraith ran us into the ground, but he knew I was special.”
My stomach turned, although I had heard versions of this before.
“He actually said that?”
Raymond asked.
Fiona nodded.
“One of the most gifted candidates he’d ever seen.”
Arthur lifted his bourbon.
“I told you.”
A few people applauded.
Someone near the far end of the table said, “Damn.”
Fiona accepted it all with lowered eyes and a modest smile.
I looked at the badge.
Three weeks earlier, I had seen the evaluation bearing the name of the instructor Fiona called Wraith.
I had not gone looking for it.
That mattered to me, even if I suspected it would matter to no one else.
A discrepancy had crossed my desk during a routine reconciliation of training records and issued credentials.
One identifier had been entered twice.
The second entry belonged to Fiona.
At first, I assumed a clerical mistake.
Then I opened the supporting documentation.
The dates didn’t match.
Neither did the authorization.
I had followed procedure.
By the end of the afternoon, I had wished I hadn’t.
“What was the final exercise like?”
Donovan asked.
Fiona took a drink.
“Which part?”
“The final qualification.”
“Oh.”
She waved one hand.
“Long day.”
Raymond smiled faintly.
“They usually are.”
“Moving targets, changing positions, stress drills.”
“What distance?”
Donovan asked.
Fiona’s smile stayed in place.
“Varied.”
“Sure, but maximum?”
Arthur sighed.
“Are we interrogating her now?”
“No.”
Donovan looked genuinely surprised.
“I’m asking.”
Fiona put down her glass.
“You wouldn’t understand half the terminology anyway.”
That changed something at the table.
Donovan leaned back.
Raymond looked at his plate.
I stared at the lime in my glass.
Fiona had always been at her most dangerous when embarrassed because embarrassment made her cruel.
She turned toward me.
“Joselyn certainly would, though.”
I looked up.
“There she goes,” Arthur said.
I hadn’t spoken.
That was the absurd part.
He pointed his fork at me anyway.
“That expression.”
“What expression?”
“The one where you think you know more than everybody else.”
“I’m drinking club soda.”
“Exactly.”
A woman beside Raymond coughed into her napkin to hide a laugh.
Arthur didn’t notice.
Fiona did.
“What’s wrong, Jo?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
May you like
“You don’t have to.”
Her smile sharpened.
