November 5 — 3:12 p.m. PDT
Oceanside, California
John left for a long run with Troy when Joey and Máire went down for a nap. Since Claire and Helene were shopping, Alex clipped the baby monitor to her jeans and went to the basement office. While it wasn’t her familiar, secure office, it was a quiet place where no one would disturb her.
Alex hadn’t been down here since she’d returned from Washington, DC. The screaming in her head had been so loud that she didn’t want to know what she was thinking — about anything. In fact, she hadn’t bothered to turn on her computer since then. She pushed the button to turn on her computer but didn’t turn on the screen. Maggie curled up onto her dog bed in the corner of the room.
She opened her journal and stared at the blank pages. For the last month, she’d taken copious photos all of the adventures she’d been on — shopping, eating, walking on the beach, hanging out with Joey and Máire, cleaning the house, cooking meals. They were all things that she’d never been able to do while she was on the frontline. She simply hadn’t written a single word in at least a month.
She turned on her computer screen to the more than 7,000 emails waiting for her. Groaning to herself, she decided to check the spreadsheet that tracks the words Joey and Máire could say in Arabic and English. Máire was more chatty than Joey, but they were both making good progress. She did a few Internet searches in an attempt to figure out how many words toddlers of their age group should have acquired only to learn that on no uncertain terms, she was parenting the wrong way. Irritated, she closed the browser only to see her email. She reached to turn off the screen.
She turned back to her journal. She got out a yellow pencil, sharpened it, and wrote out everything she remembered about the dream. She made a list of which team member gave her what trinket. She tried to remember every word they’d said and what exactly they were wearing.
One of the oddest things about the dream was that everyone was so dirty. While Alex had seen them dirtier and certainly smellier, Charlie insisted that assignments were only completed when they’d cleaned up. They would never have come to see her body, or anyone else’s, without showering and changing first.
And then it hit her.
They were dead and buried. They would have to literally have to claw through dirt to participate in this dream. Alex nodded with certainty at this answer.
If that was true, why was Joseph covered in dirt?
Alex jumped from her seat. Grabbing her cell phone, she ran to her weapons safe. She hit speed dial and grabbed her holster, with her Glock 9MM tucked inside.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up!” Alex repeated over and over again.
The call went to voicemail. Tucking the phone between her chin and shoulder, called again. Voicemail again.
Still dialing, she put checked her weapon and put on the holster. She took the basement stairs two at a time and dialed again.
“What?” Joseph’s voice was laced with irritation. “Nancy’s sleeping, and I . . .”
“They’re coming for you,” Alex said.
“What?” Joseph asked.
“Soon,” Alex said. “You have to go underground.”
“Got it,” Joseph said. “Did you call command?”
“No, but I will,” Alex said.
“Thanks,” Joseph said. “Love you.”
“I . . .”
Joseph clicked off the call.
“ . . .love you, too,” Alex said.
She stood in the entryway to their rented house. Looking up at the ceiling, she said a desperate prayer to any God, Goddess, or Angelic being that might be listening. She wrote a note to John and walked out of the house.
She made it to the porch stairs before she remembered the twins.
Alex had given Quince the day off to do some shopping for her upcoming wedding to her boyfriend, Jason. Their nanny wasn’t due home for another two hours. John and Troy were on a long run to prepare for their next ultramarathon. They wouldn’t be home for hours.
When Alex had started this day, she could never have imagined this moment.
Alex stood on their front porch seething with rage. How could she have been so stupid? If she’d taken the time to write the dream down sooner, she wouldn’t be in this situation! Why did her life have so many distractions?
She needed to go! She needed to save Joseph! She needed to make damn certain that he and his family were safe! They lived right there on the street behind this retched house. She needed to . . .
General Fonti’s voice echoed through her mind: “If you come back, you’ll no longer be a combat frontline soldier. Make no mistake, this is a staff position. You, and possibly your entire team, will be a rear operations or possibly rear detachment.”
She sat down on the step. The baby monitor popped off her jeans and flew into the air. She scrambled to catch it, but it bounced out of her hand. She watched helplessly as it bounced on the cement walk and broke into pieces. Defeated, she picked up the pieces of the monitor and let herself into the house. She stood in the entryway and listened. The twins were still asleep. Maggie was sitting next to the basement stairs and looking up at Alex.
There was nothing left for Alex to do. She called command.
“Fey Team,” a computer voice said.
“Fey,” Alex said.
The phone line clicked and then clicked again as the system analyzed her voice, the phone number the call came in on, and her assumed location.
“Fey Team,” Margaret Peaches answered.
“Joseph’s underground,” Alex said.
“Roger that,” Margaret said.
“Out,” Alex said and hung up her phone.
One phone call. That was the sum total of all Alex could do.
She felt impotent. The only other times she’d been unable to be right there, to make a real difference, she’d been sick or injured.
She was healthy! Fit! Strong! She should be right there, making things happen! She should be in the very center of everything.
For the first time in her entire life, it was no longer her role to make things happen.
She’d never felt so lost. She wandered through the house until she found herself peering into the refrigerator. Outside of last night’s nightmare, she’d never done this before. She sighed and closed the refrigerator door.
The answer was not in there.
What was the question?
Joseph had her plan. He didn’t need her help.
The truth hit Alex like a ton of bricks.
General Fonti was right. No one needed her body on the frontline. There were, in fact, thousands of young men and women whose job it was to do the heavy lifting.
“Ever wonder why you wanted to be a Green Beret?”
Charlie’s question from her dream rang in her ears. Her mind went blank. She stood in the entryway for what felt like a long time thinking about nothing.
Why had she wanted so badly to be a Green Beret? Why was she still fighting so hard to be one, when, clearly, she wasn’t needed to do the work?
She looked at her cell phone and dialed.
“I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
“Would you mind coming to the house?” Alex asked.
“I’ll be right there,” Patrick Hargreaves said.
F