Chapter 2 - The Man Who Knew Her Name
Dean forgot about losing.
Everyone did.
"Mara who?" Melissa asked.
Rachel didn't answer.
She pulled Sophie closer.
The older man seemed to realize he'd made a mistake. His eyes moved toward the people surrounding them, several of whom were already reaching for their phones.
"Put those away," Rachel said.
Something in her voice worked.
Phones lowered.
Dean rubbed his shoulder.
"Can somebody explain what the hell is happening?"
Rachel faced the stranger.
"You shouldn't have said that."
"I know."
"Who are you?"
His expression changed.
That was when Rachel recognized him.
Not the face.
The voice.
"Daniel?"
The man's jaw tightened.
"Hello, Mara."
Rachel felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her.
Daniel Cross had been forty-six the last time she'd seen him.
His hair had been dark then.
His back straighter.
There hadn't been a scar running from his left ear toward his collar.
But the eyes were unchanged.
Always watching.
Always calculating.
Sophie squeezed Rachel's hand.
"Mom, who's Mara?"
Rachel looked down.
That question hurt more than anything Dean could have done.
"Me."
Sophie frowned.
"What?"
"It's complicated."
Dean gave a humorless laugh.
"Apparently."
Rachel turned on him.
"You don't get to be angry right now."
"I don't?"
"No. I told you no four times."
Dean's expression tightened.
Rachel stepped closer.
"You wanted everyone watching. Congratulations."
His face reddened.
Melissa moved between them.
"Enough. Both of you."
Daniel nodded toward the community center.
"We need somewhere private."
Rachel almost laughed.
"You're giving orders now?"
"No."
"Good."
"But we should talk."
"I don't have anything to say."
"I think you do."
Rachel looked at Sophie.
People were pretending not to stare.
She hated this.
Eleven years of school pickups, grocery lists, mortgage payments, parent-teacher conferences, dentist appointments and Sunday pancakes.
Eleven years of being Rachel.
Six seconds had cracked all of it open.
Melissa touched her arm.
"I can take Sophie."
"No."
"Rachel—"
"No."
Sophie looked up.
"I'm not a baby."
Rachel closed her eyes briefly.
Of course.
That stubbornness was genetic.
"Inside," Rachel said.
Daniel followed them into the community center.
Dean came too.
Rachel turned.
"Not you."
Dean stared at her.
"You just threw me across a mat in front of half the town."
"You volunteered."
"You lied to us."
"About what?"
"Whatever this is!"
Rachel laughed once.
It wasn't pleasant.
"You're upset because you found out the woman you called weak isn't weak."
"That's not fair."
"Neither was ignoring me when I said no."
Dean fell silent.
Melissa whispered, "She's right."
That landed.
Dean looked away.
Inside, the gymnasium smelled like floor wax and popcorn. Volunteers were stacking chairs at the far end.
Daniel led them into a small meeting room.
Rachel remained standing.
"So talk."
Daniel studied Sophie.
Rachel noticed.
"Don't look at her."
His eyes returned immediately.
"Sorry."
"Why are you here?"
"Retired."
"That's not what I asked."
"I live forty minutes north."
Rachel waited.
Daniel sighed.
"I saw the festival advertisement. My granddaughter was supposed to perform with the dance group."
"Supposed to?"
"Stomach bug."
"And you came anyway?"
"I'd already driven down."
Rachel watched his face.
She could still read people.
Daniel knew that.
"Try again."
His mouth twitched.
"You haven't changed."
"Try again."
"I heard the name Mercer."
Rachel's blood cooled.
Daniel continued.
"I didn't know it was you. I came because I wondered."
"Who told you?"
"No one."
"Daniel."
He reached slowly inside his jacket.
Rachel moved before thinking.
One step.
His hand stopped.
"Wallet."
"Two fingers."
He obeyed.
Dean watched from the doorway.
His expression had changed.
The amusement was gone.
Daniel removed an old leather wallet and placed it on the table.
Inside was a photograph.
Rachel knew it before touching it.
Seven people stood beside a transport aircraft.
Their faces were younger.
Exhausted.
Sunburned.
Rachel stood third from the left.
Shorter hair.
No smile.
Sophie leaned closer.
"Mom?"
Rachel covered the photograph.
"Where did you get this?"
"Caleb's things."
The room seemed to lose oxygen.
Rachel stared at him.
"Caleb died."
"I know."
"Then why do you have his things?"
"Because his sister gave them to me."
Rachel looked down at the photograph again.
Caleb was standing beside her.
Twenty-eight.
Ridiculous grin.
A hand raised behind Rachel's head.
She remembered threatening to break his finger after the picture.
He'd laughed for five minutes.
Three weeks later, he was dead.
Rachel sat down.
It happened before she decided to.
Sophie touched her shoulder.
"Mom?"
"I'm okay."
She wasn't.
Daniel sat across from her.
"Caleb kept records."
Rachel's eyes snapped up.
"What records?"
"Letters. Photographs. Notes."
"He wasn't supposed to."
"He knew that."
"Daniel, what records?"
"A notebook."
Rachel's stomach tightened.
Daniel continued carefully.
"Names. Dates. Locations."
"No."
"He was documenting what happened."
Rachel shook her head.
"He couldn't have."
"He did."
"Why?"
"Because he didn't believe the report."
Neither did Rachel.
She had simply spent fourteen years forcing herself to live as though she did.
Dean shifted near the door.
"What report?"
Rachel looked at him.
"Leave."
For once, Dean obeyed.
Melissa stayed.
Sophie stayed too.
Daniel lowered his voice.
"The operation wasn't compromised because Caleb made a mistake."
Rachel stared at him.
"Stop."
"He was right."
"Stop."
"Someone changed the extraction window."
Rachel stood so quickly her chair scraped backward.
"Daniel."
"Someone wanted your team there."
Rachel could hear Caleb's voice.
Window moved.
She remembered answering:
By who?
Caleb had shrugged.
Above us.
Then came the ambush.
Rachel closed her eyes.
Daniel pushed the photograph across the table.
"There were seven of you."
Rachel knew every face.
Caleb Monroe.
Tessa Grant.
Owen Pike.
Luis Mendoza.
Harris Cole.
Daniel Cross.
And Mara Vance.
Only four had come home.
Daniel tapped one face.
Harris Cole.
Rachel stared at it.
"What?"
Daniel pulled out another photograph.
Recent.
A man leaving an office building.
Older.
Heavier.
But unmistakable.
Harris.
Rachel whispered, "He died."
"No."
"I saw the report."
"We all did."
Daniel leaned closer.
"Harris Cole is alive."
Rachel couldn't speak.
May you like
"And three weeks ago," Daniel said, "he started asking about Mara Vance."
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