Chapter 1 - The Colonel Who Remembered
"He had seen that mark before. On eight other shoulders."
Colonel Nathaniel Ward stood three feet away from me, staring at the black snake on my exposed shoulder.
For thirteen years, I had imagined what I would say if I ever saw that man again.
I had practiced being calm. I had practiced being angry. I had even practiced pretending I didn't recognize him.
Standing on that training mat with forty recruits watching, I discovered there was one thing I had never practiced.
Being afraid of him.
"Private," he said quietly. "What's your name?"
He knew.
I could see it in his eyes.
But I gave him the name printed on my uniform.
"Private Mara Bennett, sir."
His gaze moved from the torn sleeve to my face.
"Bennett."
"Yes, sir."
He repeated the name like he was testing something he didn't trust.
Behind him, Drill Sergeant Marcus Bell stood perfectly still.
Private Dalton Reese had backed away from me. For the first time since basic training began, he wasn't trying to make somebody laugh.
Ward extended his hand.
"Let me see your shoulder."
I pulled the torn fabric against my arm.
"Respectfully, sir, I'd prefer to get a replacement uniform."
"Private, that's an order."
I looked at the colonel's face.
Thirteen years had changed him.
His hair had turned almost completely gray. There were deep lines beside his mouth. His shoulders were still broad, but he carried them differently now, as though something heavy had been hanging from them for a very long time.
What hadn't changed was the scar beneath his left ear.
I remembered exactly where he had gotten it.
And I remembered the man who had put it there.
"Sir," I said, "you don't want to do this."
The drill sergeant's expression hardened.
"Private Bennett, you will address the colonel properly."
Ward raised one hand.
"That's enough, Sergeant."
Then he looked at me again.
"Turn around."
I didn't move.
He lowered his voice.
"Please."
That word nearly broke me.
Because the last time Nathaniel Ward had said please to me, there had been blood on both of his hands.
I turned just enough for him to see the entire tattoo.
A black snake curled around two letters.
S and N.
The drawing was crooked. One side of the coil was thicker than the other. The snake's tongue looked like a bent nail.
Ward stared at it.
His breathing changed.
"Who did that?" he asked.
I swallowed.
"Somebody who isn't here anymore."
"Tell me his name."
"You already know his name, sir."
Ward closed his eyes.
For one second, he looked like a man who had been punched.
Then he turned toward Sergeant Bell.
"Clear the room."
Bell blinked.
"Sir?"
"All trainees outside. Now."
The recruits began moving.
Boots scraped across the floor. Somebody whispered a question. Somebody else told him to shut up.
Reese stayed where he was.
Ward noticed.
"That includes you, Private."
Reese looked at me.
He wasn't grinning anymore.
"Sir, I didn't know—"
"Outside."
Reese lowered his head and followed the others.
I watched him go.
For four weeks, I had wanted that boy to leave me alone.
Now I would have given almost anything to have him standing beside me.
Because I knew what happened when Nathaniel Ward cleared a room.
Sergeant Bell started toward the doorway.
"Sergeant," Ward said. "You stay."
The door shut.
Suddenly the training room felt too large.
Ward looked at Bell.
"Does she have a prior-service record?"
"Yes, sir. Seven years, sir."
"Did anyone tell you what unit she served in?"
Bell hesitated.
"No, sir. Her records contain restrictions I wasn't authorized to review."
Ward nodded slowly.
Then he turned back to me.
"Where have you been, Mara?"
Hearing my first name in his voice made my stomach tighten.
"Living, sir."
"Thirteen years."
"Yes."
"I looked for you."
"I know."
His expression changed.
"You knew?"
"I moved every time somebody came looking."
Ward took a slow breath.
"Do you know how many nights I've spent wondering whether you were alive?"
I met his eyes.
"Do you know how many nights I spent wishing I wasn't?"
Bell looked down.
Ward went still.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then the colonel said something I had not expected.
"They told me you died."
I almost laughed.
It would have come out ugly.
"Who told you that?"
"The Army."
"Which part?"
His mouth tightened.
"The people who handled the investigation."
I shook my head.
"There wasn't supposed to be an investigation."
"There was one."
"Then somebody broke the agreement."
Ward moved closer.
"Mara, the agreement was broken thirteen years ago."
The room seemed to tilt.
I gripped the torn sleeve.
"What?"
Ward studied my face.
"You really don't know."
"Know what?"
He looked toward the closed door.
Then back at me.
"The others."
My heartbeat began climbing.
"What about them?"
"I found eight."
I shook my head.
"No."
"I found them, Mara. One at a time."
"That's impossible."
"Three in hospitals. Two at their homes. One in a nursing facility. One in a federal prison. And one buried in a cemetery outside Tucson."
I stared at him.
"Who?"
He didn't answer immediately.
That was when I knew the name would hurt.
"Daniel Mercer."
My knees almost gave way.
Daniel.
The boy who drew cartoons on medical supply boxes.
The boy who had talked nine exhausted soldiers into getting matching tattoos because he said no one should ever have to wonder whether they belonged somewhere.
The boy who had held my hand while we waited for the helicopters that never came.
"Daniel died?" I whispered.
Ward nodded.
"When?"
"Four years ago."
I turned away.
For thirteen years, I had kept a small piece of paper in my wallet.
A drawing of a snake.
Daniel had written underneath it:
Nine snakes. One promise. Nobody gets left behind.
I had never managed to throw it away.
"How?" I asked.
Ward's silence told me enough.
I turned back.
"How did Daniel die?"
"He was killed."
Bell lifted his head.
Ward continued.
"He left a package with my name on it. Inside was a photograph, a list of nine people, and a message."
"What message?"
Ward's voice went rough.
"He said the ninth one would know where the original recording was."
I stopped breathing.
For thirteen years, I had carried one terrible secret.
And now a colonel was standing in front of me, telling me that a dead man had pointed directly at it.
Ward stepped closer.
"Mara. Where is the recording?"
I shook my head.
"You need to leave that alone."
"I can't."
"You don't understand what you're asking."
"I understand eight people have paid for what happened."
I looked at him.
"No, Colonel. You understand eight people were found."
He waited.
I felt my throat tighten.
"That's not the same thing."
His face went pale again.
"What are you saying?"
I looked toward the door.
Then I said the words that had kept me awake for thirteen years.
"Daniel wasn't the first one they killed."
Ward reached for the back of a chair.
And I realized the colonel who had spent thirteen years searching for me knew far less than I had feared.
Which meant he might still be alive for the same reason I was.
Somebody had decided we were more useful breathing.
For now.
A phone vibrated in Ward's pocket.
He took it out.
Looked at the screen.
And turned it toward me.
The message contained a photograph.
It showed the training room.
Me standing in the middle of the mat.
My torn sleeve hanging from my shoulder.
The photograph had been taken less than five minutes earlier.
Underneath it were six words.
YOU FOUND HER. WE FOUND YOU.
Ward looked at the closed door.
"Sergeant Bell," he said.
"Sir?"
"Lock down this building."
May you like
Then he looked at me.
"Mara, whatever you've been running from just came through the front gate."
