Chapter 3 - THE DEAD MAN IN THE MOUNTAINSBy midnight, my parents’ home had become a federal scene.
The last time that many government vehicles surrounded a building because of me, I had been twenty-nine years old and bleeding through a field dressing in an aircraft hangar in Germany.
This time I wore a red cocktail dress and borrowed my mother’s coat.
Life has a strange sense of humor.
Elias Grant wanted my parents moved immediately.
Mom refused.
Dad argued.
Cole demanded to join the investigation.
Everyone seemed shocked when I agreed with Grant.
“You should leave,” I told them.
My father stared.
“This is our home.”
“That’s exactly why you should leave.”
Cole folded his arms.
“I can handle myself.”
“You can handle a conventional threat.”
His expression hardened.
“And you can’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
I was too tired for his pride.
“Cole, someone found a classified symbol connected to a dead special-mission team and painted it twenty feet from where I was standing. This isn’t about who has more ribbons.”
He flinched.
Good.
Maybe he needed to.
Colonel Knox arranged temporary quarters at Fort Valiant.
Mom reluctantly agreed when she learned senior officers’ families sometimes stayed in the same secured housing area.
Appearances still mattered.
Even at midnight.
Especially to Marianne.
By 1:15 a.m., Grant and I were in the back of an armored SUV heading west.
Knox sat across from us.
I looked at him.
“Why are you coming?”
“Because somebody attacked a captain attached to my command.”
“They burned his SUV.”
“He was standing fifty feet away.”
“Still not your operation.”
Knox leaned back.
“Grant?”
Grant looked out the window.
“Colonel Knox has temporary authorization.”
“From whom?”
“The Secretary’s office.”
That got my attention.
Knox saw it.
“This is bigger than your old unit.”
“Everything is always bigger than the old unit until people start dying.”
Nobody spoke for several miles.
Eventually Cole called.
I ignored it.
He called again.
Ignored.
Third time.
Grant glanced at my phone.
“You should answer.”
“Why?”
“Because family members do stupid things when frightened.”
That was unfortunately true.
I answered.
“What?”
“Where are you?”
“Driving.”
“Very helpful.”
“Thank you.”
“Natalie.”
The edge in his voice had changed.
Less anger.
More uncertainty.
“What?”
“Were you really at Red Hollow?”
I looked through the window at the highway lights.
“Yes.”
“And those people Colonel Knox talked about…”
“Yes.”
“You saved them?”
“We all did.”
“I searched your name.”
“You won’t find anything.”
“I found your nonprofit.”
I smiled faintly.
“I actually run that.”
“So the military spouse thing wasn’t fake?”
“No.”
“Why would somebody like you do family education programs?”
Somebody like you.
I understood what he meant.
I didn’t like it.
“Because after Red Hollow, I met families who received folded flags and no answers.”
Cole became quiet.
“I thought you hated the military.”
“I hated what secrecy did to people.”
“Then why protect yours?”
That question stayed with me long after the call ended.
At 3:40 a.m., we left paved roads.
West Virginia mountains rose around us.
The site Grant’s team identified was an abandoned hunting lodge near Monongahela National Forest.
We stopped one mile away.
Four tactical agents waited beside dark vehicles.
I refused body armor.
Grant frowned.
“You haven’t worked operationally in eleven years.”
“I know.”
“That’s not a compliment.”
“I’m not going inside armed.”
Knox studied me.
“Why not?”
“Because if Marcus is there, guns make this worse.”
Grant gave me a sidearm anyway.
I checked the chamber automatically.
Muscle memory is terrifying.
Years disappear in one motion.
We walked the final half mile.
The lodge appeared through pine trees.
No lights.
No vehicles.
Front door open.
Grant signaled his team forward.
I caught his arm.
“Wait.”
“What?”
I listened.
Nothing.
That was wrong.
Forest silence is never true silence.
There should have been insects.
Small animals.
Wind.
Instead there was only the faint sound of water dripping from the roof.
“He knows we’re here.”
Knox whispered, “How?”
“Because we’re alive.”
Grant entered first.
The lodge smelled of damp wood and cold ash.
Dust covered the furniture.
One room.
No Marcus.
On the table rested an old photograph.
I walked toward it.
Twelve people stood beside a helicopter.
Faces blurred by sun glare and exhaustion.
I was in the middle.
Twenty-eight.
Short hair.
No smile.
Marcus stood behind me.
Broad shoulders.
Black beard.
One hand rested on my shoulder.
I hadn’t seen that photograph in eleven years.
It shouldn’t exist.
Knox came closer.
“That your team?”
“Yes.”
Grant found something beneath it.
An envelope.
NATALIE.
I opened it.
Inside was one sheet of paper.
Three words.
YOU LEFT ME.
My throat closed.
“He’s alive,” Knox said.
Maybe.
Or someone wanted me to believe he was.
A floorboard creaked behind us.
Grant turned.
“Contact!”
The rear window shattered.
Everyone dropped.
A metallic object rolled across the floor.
Flash device.
I recognized it one second before detonation.
“Eyes!”
White light.
Noise.
Chaos.
I hit the floor.
Someone crashed through the rear door.
Boots.
A struggle.
I heard Knox grunt.
Then running outside.
When my vision cleared, Grant was already chasing.
I followed.
Trees blurred past.
A figure moved downhill.
Tall.
Fast.
Black jacket.
He ran like someone trained to conserve energy.
I knew that stride.
“Marcus!”
The figure stopped.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Enough.
My heart slammed.
He disappeared beyond the ridge.
I kept running.
“Natalie!” Knox shouted.
I reached a steep ravine.
At the bottom flowed black mountain water.
Nobody.
Then something moved behind me.
An arm hooked around my throat.
I reacted before thinking.
Heel strike.
Elbow.
Turn.
My attacker blocked all three.
He caught my wrist and forced me against a tree.
I stared into a face eleven years older than the one in my memory.
Gray threaded the beard.
A scar crossed his left cheek.
But the eyes were the same.
Marcus Dane.
Alive.
I stopped struggling.
He released me.
For ten seconds we simply stared.
“You’re dead,” I whispered.
“So are you.”
“Why are people dying?”
His expression changed.
“They’re not my kills.”
“Then whose?”
“You still trust Grant?”
I looked back toward the ridge.
Voices approached.
Marcus grabbed my arm.
“Listen to me. Red Hollow wasn’t a rescue mission.”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you talking about?”
“It was a cleanup.”
“No.”
“You saw the prisoners.”
“We recovered civilians.”
“You recovered witnesses.”
“Witnesses to what?”
Marcus looked toward the ridge.
Closer now.
“You need to find file Black Orchard.”
“That doesn’t exist.”
His eyes hardened.
“That’s what they told us.”
“Who is killing the support network?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then come back with me.”
He laughed quietly.
“You still think the people sending you are the good ones.”
“I think three people are dead.”
“And more will die.”
“Who?”
Marcus looked straight into my eyes.
“Your family.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
“They didn’t burn Cole’s SUV to threaten you.”
“Then why?”
“To force you out of Arlington.”
“Why?”
“Because while you’re chasing me…”
He reached into his coat.
I tensed.
He handed me a tiny storage drive.
“…they’re going after what you left behind.”
A gunshot cracked.
Marcus jerked.
Blood bloomed across his shoulder.
I pulled him behind the tree.
“Sniper!”
Knox and Grant’s agents scattered.
Another shot hit bark.
Marcus grabbed me.
“Don’t let them take the drive.”
“Who?”
His face twisted in pain.
“Anyone.”
Then he shoved me away and threw himself down the ravine.
“Marcus!”
He hit the water and vanished into darkness.
Grant reached me.
“Where is he?”
I looked at the black river.
“Gone.”
“Did he say anything?”
The tiny drive felt like fire inside my palm.
I closed my fingers around it.
“No.”
Grant studied me.
For one dangerous second, I wondered if he believed me.
Then his radio erupted.
A voice spoke rapidly.
His face changed.
“What?”
Knox stepped closer.
Grant looked at me.
“Natalie.”
“What happened?”
“There’s been an incident at Fort Valiant.”
My chest tightened.
“Cole?”
Grant hesitated.
That was answer enough.
May you like
“What happened to my brother?”
“He’s missing.”
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