It was the first time in her career she'd spoken to a general like that.
But Harper didn't reprimand her.
Aria pointed toward Cross.
“He said someone had been watching me since 2018.”
Harper looked at Cross.
Cross inhaled.
“Because your career pattern matched several historical profiles.”
“Profiles for what?”
“We didn't know.”
“Now we do.”
Cross glanced at Jackson.
“Do we?”
Jackson laughed.
“Still playing dumb?”
Cross ignored him.
Aria pressed play again.
Nothing.
The tape had ended.
Cross picked up the cassette.
“We'll analyze it.”
Jackson stepped forward.
“No.”
Weapons shifted toward him.
He stopped.
“You've analyzed enough things into disappearing.”
Cross's jaw tightened.
“Commander, choose your next words carefully.”
Jackson smiled.
“That sentence used to scare me.”
Harper stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Then she turned to Aria.
“Come with me.”
Aria looked toward the rising sunlight outside.
“No.”
Harper blinked.
“I want answers here.”
“You won't get them here.”
“Then where?”
General Harper hesitated.
And in that hesitation, Aria saw fear.
Not fear of Cross.
Not of Jackson.
Something else.
Harper finally said, “Your mother.”
Aria called her mother at 6:31 a.m.
Elaine Mercer answered on the fourth ring.
“Sweetheart?”
Aria couldn't speak.
“Aria?”
“Mom.”
Something in her voice must have carried across the line.
Her mother became instantly alert.
“What happened?”
Aria looked at Harper.
“Did Dad die in 1999?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Not shock.
Silence.
Aria closed her eyes.
“Oh my God.”
“Aria—”
“You knew.”
“Listen to me.”
“You knew.”
“Not everything.”
“How much?”
Elaine began crying.
That somehow made Aria angrier.
“How much, Mom?”
“I knew the accident wasn't real.”
Jackson looked away.
Aria gripped the phone.
“You let me believe he died.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
The words echoed the recording.
Aria sank into a chair.
“Is he alive?”
Her mother's crying stopped.
A long pause.
Then:
“Yes.”
Aria could hear her own heartbeat.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie.”
“I truly don't.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Eight years ago.”
Cross's head snapped up.
Jackson whispered, “Eight?”
Aria repeated, “Eight years?”
“He came to the house.”
“You saw him?”
“For eleven minutes.”
“And you never told me?”
“He made me promise.”
“He doesn't get to make promises for me!”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
Her mother's voice broke.
“He knew you'd joined the Army.”
Aria stopped.
“What?”
“He knew.”
“How?”
“He'd been following your career.”
The walls seemed to close around her.
“He abandoned us and then watched me?”
“He said he was protecting you.”
Aria laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Elaine whispered, “There's something else.”
Aria stared at the floor.
“What?”
“He didn't come to see me.”
“Then why?”
“He came because someone had contacted you.”
“Who?”
“A recruiter.”
Aria frowned.
“I talked to dozens of recruiters.”
“Not military.”
Understanding came slowly.
Then suddenly.
“Daniel Cross.”
Cross went completely still.
Aria looked at him.
Her mother continued through the phone.
“Your father said if a man named Daniel Cross ever approached you, I was supposed to call a number.”
Aria stood.
Cross raised both hands.
“Captain, whatever she believes—”