Chương 12
“About?”
“Mostly old operations.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Mercer hated nostalgia.”
“I know.”
David stepped away from Nora’s bed and lowered his voice.
“Did Foster challenge him?”
“He said he couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because the man knew details.”
“What details?”
“Things from Red Basin.”
David’s stomach tightened.
Only five people had survived Red Basin.
Mercer had been one of them.
“What else?”
“Foster says the man knew about Chen’s broken wrist in Kandahar.”
“That was never in a report.”
“I know.”
“He knew Ramirez used to hide cigarettes inside the battery compartment of his radio.”
David stared at the wall.
“That proves access to someone who was there.”
“It proves more than a newspaper clipping.”
“It does not prove Mercer.”
Bishop sighed.
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Refusing to believe the dangerous answer because the boring answer hasn’t been eliminated.”
“I’m refusing to believe a dead man visited Foster because Foster recognized his face.”
“Foster spent seven years trying not to recognize faces.”
That silenced David.
Foster had been Vanguard’s surveillance specialist.
He could identify a target after seeing half a profile through smoked glass.
He had also once spent nine straight days awake on stimulants during an operation nobody had been proud of afterward.
David did not like building certainty on damaged gifts.
“Did Foster take a picture?”
“No.”
“Doorbell camera?”
“He didn’t have one then.”
“Neighbor?”
“Unknown.”
“Vehicle?”
“He remembers a dark sedan.”
“That’s useless.”
“Agreed.”
David rubbed the scar across his knuckles.
“Did Foster ask where Mercer had been?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“The man said, ‘Somewhere your commander couldn’t reach me.’”
David’s throat went dry.
Nora was watching him now.
He turned slightly away.
“Those exact words?”
“According to Foster.”
“Why didn’t he call me?”
Bishop’s answer came carefully.
“Because he thought you’d blame yourself.”
David almost laughed.
“That didn’t stop him before.”
“No.”
“So what actually stopped him?”
A longer silence.
“Foster thought he imagined it.”
David closed his eyes.
There it was.
The ordinary explanation hiding beneath the extraordinary one.
“Relapse?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I believe he believes he was sober.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Bishop’s voice hardened.
“I don’t know.”
David looked at Nora.
She had picked up the whiteboard again.
WHO IS ELIAS MERCER?
He ignored it for the moment.
“What about the coin?”
“Foster checked after the visit.”
“Immediately?”
“No.”
“How long?”
“Two days.”
“And it was gone.”
“Yes.”
“Who knew it mattered?”
“Anyone from Vanguard.”
“Did Mercer ever know the activation number was engraved on the reverse?”
“Yes.”
David leaned his head against the wall.
“Then if that was him, he could have taken it.”
“Yes.”
“And if it wasn’t him, somebody wanted Foster to think Mercer had.”
“Yes.”
“That second option worries me more.”
“Me too.”
David looked at Nora’s question again.
“I’m telling her.”
Bishop hesitated.
“About Mercer?”
“Enough.”
“David.”
“She already knows Vanguard exists.”
“That doesn’t mean she needs the rest.”
“She’s lying in a hospital bed because somebody may be using pieces of my old life around her.”
Bishop did not argue.
That made David more certain.
“I’ll call when I have something verifiable.”
“Do that.”
He ended the call.
Nora tapped the board.
David sat beside her.
“Elias Mercer was on my team.”
She waited.
“He was good.”
Her expression said that was not enough.
“He was difficult.”
Still waiting.
“Funny when he shouldn’t have been.”
A faint change in her eyes.
“Arrogant.”
David rubbed his jaw.
“He thought rules were useful until they interfered with the mission.”
Nora wrote.
YOU LIKED HIM.
David looked at her.
“Sometimes.”
She underlined it.
“Fine.”
He exhaled.
“I liked him more than I should have.”
Her gaze softened slightly.
“He saved my life.”
Nora stopped writing.
“Twice.”
David looked down at his hands.
“And once I gave an order that left him behind.”
Nora’s marker moved.
HE DIED?
“We believed he did.”
She stared at him.
David forced himself to say it accurately.
“We had evidence.”
She wrote.
NOT BODY?
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
David nodded.
“No body.”
She leaned back against the pillow.
The whiteboard rested against her chest.
He could see the question forming before she wrote it.
YOUR FAULT?
David swallowed.
“I made the decision.”
Nora shook her head.
Then wrote.
NOT WHAT I ASKED.
He stared at the words.
This conversation had waited nineteen years for the wrong circumstances.
“I don’t know.”
Nora looked at him for a long time.
That answer seemed to satisfy her more than anything else had.
She erased the board.
Then she wrote.
WHY NOW?
David looked toward the door.
“That’s what I need to find out.”
At 7:02 a.m., Mrs. Alvarez arrived carrying a canvas grocery bag, a garment bag, and a plastic container of scrambled eggs David had not requested.
She was sixty-eight, five feet tall on generous measurements, and possessed the absolute confidence of a woman who had raised four children without consulting a parenting book.
“You look terrible,” she told David.
“Good morning.”
“I brought underwear.”
Nora’s eyes widened.
Mrs. Alvarez pointed at her.
“You do not get to be embarrassed today.”
Nora covered her face with one hand.
David almost laughed.
Mrs. Alvarez kissed two fingers and touched them lightly to Nora’s forehead.
Then she looked at the bruising.
Her mouth tightened.
For a moment, all the practical energy left her.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Nora reached for her hand.
Mrs. Alvarez held it.
Nobody spoke.
Then she cleared her throat and turned toward David.
“I also brought the blue sweatpants she likes.”
“She says those make her look twelve.”
“She is nineteen.”
“Exactly.”
Mrs. Alvarez frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does to her.”
Nora raised one finger in agreement.
Mrs. Alvarez unpacked toiletries into the bathroom.
She complained that David owned no decent travel toothbrushes.
She complained that Nora’s refrigerator contained expired yogurt.
She complained about the parking garage fee.
May you like
The complaints were so ordinary that David felt his body loosen around them.
Then she handed him the garment bag.
