Chapter 3 - Five Names
By sunrise, my kitchen had become an operations room.
Maps covered the table.
Phones charged along the counter.
Two soldiers occupied the front room.
A government vehicle sat across from my house.
And Noah was eating cereal in the middle of it all.
That image bothered me more than I expected.
I had spent years keeping my professional life away from him.
Now it had arrived in our kitchen.
"School's canceled for you today," I said.
Noah looked up.
"You mean I'm not allowed to go."
"Correct."
"Because someone threatened us."
"Correct."
He put down his spoon.
"Are you going to tell me what's happening?"
Mercer looked at me.
I hated that question because Noah deserved an answer.
But there were answers a child shouldn't have to carry.
"Someone from my past may be targeting people I served with."
"Why?"
"We don't know yet."
"Are they targeting you?"
"Possibly."
"And me?"
I hesitated.
That hesitation answered him.
Noah pushed his bowl away.
"Great."
"Noah."
"You always said your job couldn't follow us here."
"I said I would do everything possible to prevent it."
"That's not the same thing."
No.
It wasn't.
He walked upstairs.
Mercer waited until the door closed.
"He's angry."
"Thank you, General."
"I raised three teenagers."
"And?"
"They're adults now, so apparently they survived my parenting."
I almost smiled.
Then I looked at the photograph again.
Five surviving names.
Marcus Reed.
Elena Torres.
Thomas Wade.
Isaac Coleman.
Sarah Mitchell.
All had served under me.
All had eventually moved into other assignments or civilian life.
Ruiz was dead.
And someone had found us.
By noon, four were confirmed safe.
Nobody could reach Sarah Mitchell.
That changed our priorities.
Sarah had left the Army six years earlier and opened a horse rehabilitation ranch outside Pueblo.
I grabbed my jacket.
Mercer blocked the doorway.
"No."
"Move."
"You're currently a potential target."
"Sarah is potentially alone."
"I have people going."
"Robert."
He knew that tone.
"Claire."
"She served under me."
"Which does not make you bulletproof."
"I never claimed it did."
"No. You just behave like mortality is an administrative inconvenience."
Behind him, Noah stood on the stairs.
"Go."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"If you need to find her, go."
His voice was still angry.
But underneath it was fear.
"I'll come back."
"You better."
I hugged him.
He resisted for half a second.
Then held on.
Mercer eventually agreed to let me accompany the team.
Sarah's ranch looked abandoned when we arrived.
Front gate open.
Truck parked.
Horses restless.
I saw the front door standing slightly ajar.
"Sarah!"
Nothing.
We entered.
No blood.
No struggle.
Kitchen empty.
Bedroom empty.
Then I heard something from the barn.
Three taps.
Pause.
Three taps.
I knew that signal.
We moved.
Sarah Mitchell was inside a locked tack room with a shotgun.
When she saw me, her face collapsed.
"Ma'am?"
I hadn't heard anyone call me that way in years.
She lowered the weapon.
"Sarah."
She hugged me.
Hard.
"What happened?"
"Somebody came last night."
"Who?"
"Don't know."
"Did you see them?"
"No."
"What did they want?"
She stepped backward.
Then reached into her pocket.
"They left this."
A small metal object rested in her palm.
A coin.
One side carried a bird.
A kestrel.
The other carried coordinates.
I knew them.
I hadn't seen those numbers in twelve years.
Mercer looked at me.
"What is it?"
I stared at the coin.
"Where everything started."
"And where is that?"
I closed Sarah's fingers around it.
"A place that officially never existed."
That afternoon, another message arrived.
One sentence.
BRING THE FIVE TO KESTREL OR BENNETT'S BOY PAYS THE DEBT.
My entire body went cold.
Then my phone rang.
It was Logan.
"Colonel?"
"What?"
May you like
His voice shook.
"Noah's gone."
