Authors: Dee Henderson
“Not for another hour or so. I just wanted to say again I’m sorry for not touching base this morning.”
“It’s okay,” she said slowly, knowing what all those pieces meant. She felt cold. It was as close as Joe would ever come to telling her something was being planned. “Do you need me to get Misha?”
“Not at the moment.”
That was a temporary reprieve. He wasn’t getting on a plane tonight. Of course that could change with a beeper message, and often did. “If that changes, let me know.”
“Thanks, Kelly. Can I call you back later? It would be late, and I don’t want to wake you up—”
“Call,” Kelly cut in. “It doesn’t matter what time it is.”
She heard the relief in his voice. “Thanks. I want to talk to you.” She heard muffled voices in the background. “I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll be expecting your call.” She hung up slowly, feeling the distance. She had always felt it with Nick when a mission was happening, that his attention was only partially on her even when they were having a conversation. With Joe—being involved with a platoon leader was going to have its own unique stresses.
“Everything okay?” Charles had stepped into the living room.
“Fine,” she replied, needing to dismiss the call. It wasn’t something she could talk about. She gestured to the roses. “You have brightened my whole house.”
“That was the intention.”
He had carried in her coffee mug. “Ryan mentioned a wilderness camping trip being planned for next week. He sounded interested.”
She settled on the couch. “The church youth group is going. It’s a true wilderness camping trip: white-water rafting, rock climbing, sleeping in tents, even twenty-four hours with a compass and a map to get back to base. It can be a life-changing experience. They leave Tuesday morning and get back Saturday night. The sign-up sheet had nine teens and four adults going.”
“I can see why Ryan was intrigued. It’s not too late to add him?”
“As long as they know this week, they’ll be able to plan food accordingly.”
“I’ll ask him when he gets home and give you a call.” Charles set aside his coffee, then paused when he saw a picture. “Is that your husband?”
Kelly glanced over. “Yes, that’s Nick.”
Charles studied the picture and frowned. “How long ago was he killed?”
“Three years.”
“How did he die?”
“A training accident.”
Charles glanced over at her, apparently recognizing the evasion. “I’m sorry, Kelly. SEALs and their secrets can be difficult.”
She neither confirmed nor denied his assumption. “Your wife—what happened?”
“Cancer. You would have liked her. She grew up in the church, was a bright light to everyone she met. I’ve never understood why God let her die when she was so young.”
“I’ve asked the same question about Nick.”
“Have you figured out anything?”
Kelly shook her head. “What about you?”
“God stole my wife from me—that was the answer for so long. Now—” he purposely lightened his tone—“the grief fades. I’ve stopped trying to answer the question. There isn’t an answer.”
She heard the honesty in his words, his emotion.
“God stole my wife from me . . .”
She was surprised at how close it was to her own reaction of
God doesn’t care about me anymore
. How long had it taken Charles to come back from that anger, to once again put together a relationship with God? He was in the church, was bringing his son up in it; the hurt must have passed.
It took three years for you to face the problem, yet you stayed in the church and covered up the anger that entire time. Would you really know if Charles had faced his anger?
Kelly wanted to ask him, to find out if the decision point she had reached was also a common occurrence for those who lost someone close, but she didn’t feel like she should ask such a probing question, not when he was already being much more open than she would have expected for a new friend. Maybe when she had known him a while longer she would ask him about it.
Charles stayed for twenty minutes, then went to pick up Ryan and Lynnette from the movie. Kelly watched at the door as he pulled out of the drive; then she turned off the front porch light.
She carried their coffee cups into the kitchen. Charles was looking for a friend, might even be interested in something more under different circumstances. But he had accepted a friendship, and that was what she was willing to offer. He was the one who had casually mentioned Joe a couple times, accepting that he was Kelly’s choice.
Who did she know who would be a good match for Charles? She could play matchmaker for the son. Why not the father too?
She put away the bills. She would go ahead and curl up in bed, let herself catch a nap rather than wait up for Joe to call. It was the routine she wanted to establish. She didn’t want him worrying about what time he called her; anytime night or day was fine, whenever he had a moment free. And she didn’t want to get in the habit of waiting up for him and adding to his sense of pressure when he couldn’t call.
Kelly shut off the lights behind her and went to get ready for bed. She brushed out her hair, set down her hairbrush on the dresser, stopped, and frowned. Nick’s medallion was not in its usual spot. She always left it beside her jewelry box on the few days she didn’t wear it. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember where she had put it.
Of course. She had taken it off yesterday before she began to paint and had put it down on the counter next to the stove. Turning the lights back on, she went to get it.
Nick’s eagle medallion was not where she remembered placing it. It was not on any of the kitchen counters, under papers, or under the mail. It wasn’t in any of the kitchen drawers it might have fallen into.
Had she even seen it today?
Ryan and Lynnette had been over—she had gotten out a plate for the cookies. Then Charles had come over—she’d fixed coffee. She had been around the kitchen tonight fixing dinner. She simply couldn’t remember having seen the medallion.
Kelly started searching the kitchen again, moving deliberately around the room, looking everywhere. It wasn’t here. If she had moved it, if Joe had moved it, where would it be? She checked the basket where mail landed, checked the table in the hall, looked again around her jewelry box and across her dresser. Back again in the living room, she pulled up cushions, looked under furniture. It had to have dropped somewhere. Tears started to fall when she had looked everywhere she could think of.
Lord, I’ve lost Nick’s eagle. I have to find it. It’s the most precious possession I have next to my wedding ring.
At eleven, she finally did what she never did—she paged Joe.
“Kelly, what’s wrong? I got your page.”
She heard the sharp concern. She had bothered him at work, in the middle of something important. She regretted that and yet felt like she was losing Nick all over again and couldn’t help but ask. “Do you remember seeing Nick’s medallion last night when you picked up the kitchen?”
He was slow to answer. “I think so—yes, it was on the counter by the stove. I remember setting my drink down on the newspaper, and the medallion beneath it almost made my glass tip over.”
“I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere.”
He was quiet for several moments. “I don’t remember moving it,” his voice had dropped, recognizing what she would be feeling.
“Could it have fallen between the counter and the stove? We found things by the refrigerator.”
“It’s possible. You’re sure you haven’t seen it today?”
“No.”
“The trash.”
She whirled, feeling her stomach sink. It was empty, and she had taken the barrels out that morning for the weekly pickup. She closed her eyes. “It’s already gone.”
“I’ll come help you look as soon as I can get away,” Joe promised. “It has to still be in the house somewhere.”
“You’re sure? I know you’re busy.”
“I’ll be there.”
She put down the phone and started looking again, forcing aside the emotion. It was here somewhere. She went back to her bedroom knowing she would have put it away there. Her search gave the same result. Nothing. She went back to the kitchen again, frustrated. She pulled out kitchen drawers, nearly pulling them off their tracks, churning through the contents.
Forty minutes had passed and she was thinking about trying to move the refrigerator out when the doorbell rang.
“Joe.” It helped just seeing him.
“We’ll find it, Kelly.” It was close to midnight. Joe should be home. Instead, he was here because she needed him. “Thank you.”
His hand on her shoulder gave a reassuring squeeze. “Show me where you last saw it.”
Half an hour later, Kelly sank onto one the kitchen chairs. Joe had done everything from pulling out the stove and refrigerator to looking through all the painting supplies he had packed away while she gave Misha a bath. They had both looked everywhere they could think of. The medallion was simply gone.
“I’m sorry, Kelly.”
She looked at him, weary. “If it went out with the trash, it’s gone for good. If it’s been misplaced in this house, I’ll find it.” She forced herself not to dump her pain on him. “Thanks for coming by to help.” What went unsaid was what they both feared. Joe had accidentally thrown away Nick’s medallion.
He squeezed her folded hands. “I wish I could hand it to you.”
“I’ll keep looking. You need to go. You’ve had a long day. I know I interrupted you.” She wanted to ask what was happening but knew he couldn’t answer, and it would only add to her worry.
“I do need to get into work early,” he said with great reluctance.
If he had a mission coming, the last thing she needed was him tired and distracted. She forced herself to smile. “Go home, Joe. I’ll find it.” She hugged him at the door and held on tight. “Take care of yourself.”
He rubbed her back. “I would give anything to change this.”
“I know you would. It’s okay.”
She watched him leave. Even though she was in the process of putting Nick into the past, she didn’t want a treasured memento wrenched away from her like this. It stung. It really stung.
Twenty-Three
* * *
“Wolf, let’s do it again,” Joe ordered. The men throughout the mock-up of the ship, pier, and boathouse stepped out to regroup. Wolf’s group had the device; Cougar’s group had control of the ship deck; Boomer and the men with him had control of the pier. They were working on the most complex situation they might have to deal with—taking the device from the boat. Lincoln had approved their plans last night. Joe had been right: The need to capture Raider was considered worth the higher risk of taking the device on the island and not on the open sea.
The three groups were beginning to move in sync. They were rehearsing to determine lines of fire, progression of movement, pausing at each step along the way to refine the plan. If they had to go to this fallback plan and take the device at the boat, they would have to be fast. They had to take control of the device, steal the ship, and get it moving out to sea before the men on the beach could coordinate an attack and overrun them.
They had taken over a corner of the SEAL training grounds on San Clemente Island for the work. The mock-up wasn’t pretty, but it was a good replica of the boat deck, from the railings they had to climb over to the position of the cranes. Special attention had been paid inside the boat’s central hub so they could practice going through the doors and controlling the corridors. Doing the assault at night, on a rocking boat, possibly in the rain—all the past training and missions would be used to translate this exercise into the actual mission. They didn’t have a plan yet that satisfied Joe. Time was an enemy once the first shot was fired.
This afternoon they would shift gears and work on their primary assault plan—taking the device while it was in transit from the boat to the runway. They would have the helicopter pilot who was deploying with them available then.
The helicopter. That was one part of these plans that Joe found the most troubling. If something went seriously wrong, they were still depending on air to get the device out. They had to look at that part of the operation again. Still, control of the device was key. They had even figured out a backup plan to sabotage the device—rip out the circuit board guts, take the plutonium core, and get out.
They would hopefully not need the fallback plans. If everything went right, this mission would go like clockwork. They would climb the cliffs, grab the device as it was in transit, and extract it by helicopter. Then two SEALs would slip down to the harbor and sabotage the boat, while three of them—Cougar, Boomer, and himself—would wait at the runway, sabotage the plane, and try to grab Raider.
Joe let himself relax; the men would be ready. They would be running through these mission work-ups again tonight, swimming in from the sea.
Where was Nick’s medallion?
The urgent question came back center stage without being prompted.
He felt like he had betrayed a friend. There was no way to replace it. He was afraid he had accidentally thrown it away; he simply couldn’t remember. He had folded up the paint-splattered newspapers, washed paintbrushes, carried the drop cloth outside, but he was still convinced the medallion had been there on the counter when he was done. He didn’t have the time to help Kelly look today, couldn’t even tell her why he wasn’t helping her. If it had been lost in the trash—it had been an accident, but he was responsible.
When he told her tomorrow he was deploying . . . he didn’t want to see the suppressed fear he knew would be there.
He understood it, felt for her, but he needed her to get past it for his sake. He didn’t need her fear rubbing off on him, didn’t need to carry the burden of knowing she was back home, afraid. He could only imagine her reaction if she knew he was going to confront the man who had ultimately been responsible for Nick’s death.
Boomer got in his face and quietly hissed, “Get your act together.”