24

Bill Harris met Paige for breakfast wearing jeans, work boots, and a tucked-in short-sleeved button-down shirt. His gray hair was combed over, and he smelled of an old man’s cologne. Paige caught glimpses of Patrick in his grandfather’s mannerisms and a few of his figures of speech. It made her feel closer to Patrick just being around this guy.

They took Uber to the Falls Church Marriott. It was the first time Bill had used Uber, so he hopped up front with the driver and asked an endless series of questions. By the time they reached Falls Church, Bill had told the Uber driver all about Patrick and the services from the prior day. The driver told them the ride was on the house.

The hotel was an elegant building that bore a slight resemblance to the White House. It featured a large fountain in the middle of a circular drive, perfectly trimmed hedges, and a Southern porch with white oval columns. Whoever this source might be apparently liked to go first-class.

Paige and Bill walked through the revolving glass doors, nodded at the bellboys, and headed straight for the elevators. Bill had received a room key in his package, and Paige was anxious to meet the person feeding them this information.

They entered executive suite 301, turned on the light, and realized they were the first to arrive. Bill looked around, even checking out the bathroom, as if he were some kind of trained detective. There was a note in the middle of a conference table with a computer next to it. Following the instructions on the note, they turned on the computer and entered the password. A video screen that resembled Skype popped up. The instructions said that a video call would start at precisely 3:00.

They pulled two chairs to the same side of the table, looked at their watches, and waited.

“This place is prob’ly bugged,” Bill said softly as he surveyed the ceiling, apparently looking for video cameras.

“Probably,” Paige said.

A few minutes later, just before three, they heard someone else insert a key to the room. They both hopped up and turned around, and Paige felt her jaw drop as Wyatt Jackson entered the room, followed by Kristen Anderson.

Wyatt Jackson?

“Paige!” Kristen said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure,” Paige said. “I suppose the same thing you’re doing.” The two ladies hugged, and Wyatt shook hands with Bill.

“This is Mr. Jackson,” Kristen said to Paige. “He represented Troy on some . . .” Kristen hesitated for a moment as if she didn’t want to spill the details of Troy’s former troubles. “Some legal matters.”

“We’ve met before,” Paige said icily. She shook Wyatt’s hand but wanted to knock the arrogant smirk off his face. It was the same haughty look from that day in the Virginia Court of Appeals, when Wyatt knew he would spring another rapist on a technicality. Paige would need to tell Kristen to stay away from the guy.

“Did you get an envelope too?” Kristen asked.

The four compared notes. Kristen had received the same information. She’d called Wyatt because he had represented Troy in the past. Wyatt, intrigued by what Kristen told him, came to D.C. for the meeting.

Paige wondered whether some of the other SEAL families had received envelopes and would be joining them momentarily, but when three o’clock rolled around, they were the only ones in the room. They all took a seat at the conference table, and when the call started, Paige clicked the icon to answer.

The figure on the other end was a silhouette, a black shadow against a white screen. The outline seemed to suggest a man wearing a hat and sunglasses. His voice was distorted and mechanical.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “Sorry for all the cloak-and-dagger stuff. I know my voice sounds like Darth Vader.”

For a second, nobody spoke. What do you say to a silhouette?

“Don’t worry about it,” Bill said. “If what you tell us makes sense, we don’t necessarily need to know who you are.”

As a lawyer, Paige didn’t agree with that for a second. But this was no time to argue.

“Who’s the older gentleman sitting next to Mrs. Anderson?” the man on the screen asked.

“Wyatt Jackson. I represent the Anderson family.”

“Welcome, Mr. Jackson.”

Wyatt stood up and moved behind the others. Paige couldn’t tell if the camera on the laptop was picking him up or not.

“I know you didn’t come here for small talk,” the man on the screen began, “so I’ll get right down to it. But first I want you to know how sorry I am for your loss.”

Kristen and Bill thanked him, and the source began a stilted monologue. He apologized for being anonymous but said he might have to provide classified information that could cost him his job if his identity became known. He explained that he had chosen each of them, with the exception of Wyatt Jackson, for a reason. Kristen, Bill, and Paige were the only ones who had received the manila envelopes.

He called himself the Patriot and said he was concerned that the president and her cabinet were misleading the American people. He hoped that he was wrong, and he didn’t want to add any more grief to the families, but he had dedicated his life to serving his country, and he couldn’t stand idly by if U.S. Special Forces had been sent on a mission by a government that knew ahead of time that they would fail.

As he talked, Paige felt a growing uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. The Patriot’s distorted voice made the whole thing seem eerie, and a shadowy figure on a computer screen was hard to trust. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Kristen, who had a sideways tilt of her head that telegraphed her skepticism. Bill had grabbed some hotel stationery and a pen so he could take notes. Wyatt Jackson paced behind them, making Paige even more nervous. She didn’t like having a man like that at her back.

“I want to make one thing clear,” the Patriot continued. “I do not know for a fact that the president knew this mission was compromised. The worst case is that she intentionally sent the SEALs into battle knowing they would be killed so that the country would support what she wanted to do in the Mideast. But at the very least, she probably knew the mission was at great risk and decided to proceed anyway.”

“What’s your evidence?” Wyatt asked abruptly.

“Of course,” the Patriot said calmly. And for the next ten minutes he laid out his case.