Uncle Carl laughed. Todd asked whether I was “basically an office manager for the Army.” I had smiled. There were reasons I rarely explained much about my work. Some were professional. Others were personal. Mostly, I had grown tired of watching every accomplishment become another competition. When I graduated from West Point, Derek spent the celebration explaining how police work was supposedly more dangerous than “college soldier stuff.” When I became a company commander, Aunt Rebecca asked why I still hadn’t found a husband. When I deployed overseas, my mother told people I was “doing paperwork.” When I returned home, almost nobody asked what I had actually experienced while I was gone.
Eventually, I stopped explaining. They created their own version of my life. Rachel had some government job. Rachel moved around a lot. Rachel was probably somewhere in middle management. Rachel had never married because she worked too much. Rachel thought she was better than everybody else. By that Memorial Day afternoon, those assumptions had become the version of reality my family accepted without question. Derek looked back at Marcus. “Show me your identification.” One of Marcus’s eyebrows rose slightly. I almost smiled. Almost. “Derek,” I said, “take off the cuff.” His gaze returned to me. Some of his confidence was beginning to come back because anger was much easier for him to handle than embarrassment.
“You don’t give me orders.” “You restrained me without cause.” “You were interfering.” “With what?” “You grabbed me first.” “I touched your wrist after you pushed your finger two inches from my face.” “You put your hands on an officer.” My father finally spoke. “Derek, enough.” Derek turned sharply toward him. “No, Uncle Walt. Everyone here saw what happened.” Nobody answered. Their silence only made him more agitated. He looked around the yard. “Somebody say something.” My grandmother was still staring at the stars on my shoulders. My mother had begun crying, although she didn’t seem to realize tears were running down her cheeks. Todd reached toward his phone.
Aunt Rebecca immediately pushed his hand down. “Don’t record this.” Marcus looked at me. “Ma’am.” He extended the sealed red folder. My attention shifted instantly. For several seconds, my family disappeared from my thoughts. “What happened?” “The call came in thirty-seven minutes ago.” “From where?” “Fort Liberty operations first. Washington after that.” My stomach tightened. Derek was still saying something somewhere behind us. I stopped listening. Marcus lowered his voice. “There’s been an incident involving the reserve communications site.” I stared at the folder. Three words. COMMAND EYES ONLY. “Any casualties?” “None confirmed.” “Civilian involvement?” “Possibly.” I took the folder with my free hand. Derek immediately reached toward it.
“Wait. What’s that?” Marcus reacted without hesitation. He stepped between us. Not aggressively. Only far enough. “Do not touch that folder.” Derek stopped. It was the first direct order Marcus had given him. The tone accomplished what the rest of my family had failed to do. It silenced him. I broke the seal. The first page contained a preliminary incident report. At 12:36 p.m., a restricted communications node supporting multiple military installations had experienced an unauthorized attempt at physical entry. By itself, that wasn’t especially unusual. Attempts happened. Most eventually turned out to be mistakes, misunderstandings, or contractor errors. Then I saw the location.
My pulse slowed. County Route 18. Nine miles from my parents’ house. I kept reading. A county law-enforcement access credential had been used at the outer gate. I raised my eyes. Derek was staring directly at me. Something in his expression had changed. Only slightly. But enough. Marcus noticed it too. “What?” I asked. Derek shook his head. “Nothing.” I looked back at the report. Credential identification number. The final four digits appeared in bold. I knew almost nothing about the sheriff department’s credential numbering system. Derek did. His eyes automatically flicked toward the identification card clipped near his belt. Much too quickly. Marcus noticed.
So did I. “Derek,” I said. “What?” “What are the last four digits on your department access credential?” His face tightened. “What does that have to do with anything?” “Answer me.” “No.” My father stepped away from the grill. “Derek.” “I said no.” Aunt Rebecca hurried toward her son. “Rachel, whatever is inside that folder, this has nothing to do with him.” I looked straight at her. That sentence affected me more than anything Derek had said all afternoon. Because I hadn’t accused him. Not yet. Marcus shifted slightly beside me. “Ma’am, we should leave.” I nodded once. Then I looked down at my wrist.
CHAPTER 3
“After this comes off.” Derek folded his arms. “You’re technically being detained.” Marcus stared at him. “For what charge?” Derek remained silent. “Deputy,” Marcus continued, “state the charge.” “You don’t have jurisdiction.” “No. But she doesn’t need my jurisdiction for you to explain why you restrained her.” Derek finally reached for the cuff key. For one short, hopeful second, I thought embarrassment had finally overcome his stubbornness. Then another vehicle appeared at the far end of the driveway. It wasn’t military. A dark county sedan. It moved slowly across the gravel before stopping behind Marcus’s SUV. Derek went completely still. Aunt Rebecca whispered something too softly for me to understand.
The driver’s door opened. Sheriff Daniel Mercer stepped out. Derek’s boss. His eyes moved across the gathering, then toward Marcus, then toward me. Finally, he noticed the handcuff. “Deputy Nolan,” he said. Derek swallowed. Sheriff Mercer walked across the lawn. Nobody spoke. He stopped beside the picnic table. Then he lifted a clear evidence bag. Inside was a county access card. Derek’s photograph was clearly visible on the front. But Sheriff Mercer wasn’t looking at Derek. He was staring at Aunt Rebecca. “Mrs. Nolan,” he said quietly, “we found this twenty minutes ago inside your vehicle.” Aunt Rebecca stepped backward. Derek turned toward his mother.