Her mind scrambled through the names on her shift log. Sarah Reynolds? Major General? Who in the world…?
Then her eyes dropped to the driver’s license sitting on the counter right in front of her.Name: Sarah Elizabeth Reynolds.Address: Alexandria, Virginia.Brenda’s breath caught in her throat.
Her eyes shifted to the clear plastic property bag sitting on the bench behind the counter.
Inside the bag sat the heavy, gray, ruggedized device with the silver Department of Defense crest visible through the plastic.
“I…
I…”
Brenda couldn’t form a sentence.
“Dispatcher Lawson,” the voice on the phone continued, even colder now.
“Do not put me on hold.
Do not hang up.
Look at your intake log right now and tell me if Major General Sarah Reynolds is in your custody.”
Brenda covered the mouthpiece with her hand.
Her face had turned entirely white, the color draining from her cheeks like water down a drain.
All traces of boredom, routine, and rural nonchalance vanished instantly.
“Jared…”
Brenda whispered, her voice trembling violently.
Miller looked up from his soda.
“What’s wrong with you, Brenda?”
“Jared… get the Sheriff.
Now.”
“What?
Who is it?”
“GET THE SHERIFF NOW!”
Brenda screamed, her voice cracking with pure panic.
Miller jumped back, startled by her sudden outburst.
He scrambled down the short hallway and threw open Ryker’s office door.
“Sheriff!
You need to come out here!
Brenda’s losing her mind over some phone call!”
Ryker grunted, annoyed, swung his boots off the desk, and strolled out into the front lobby.
“Brenda, what the hell are you hollering about?
I’m trying to read.”
Brenda looked at Ryker with wide, terrified eyes.
She held out the receiver with a shaking arm.
“Sheriff…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“There is a colonel calling from the Pentagon… from the Joint Chiefs of Staff.”
Ryker stopped in his tracks.
He stared at her, then let out a loud, mocking laugh.
“The Pentagon?
What kind of stupid prank is this?
Is that Billy down at the fire station messing around again?”
“It’s not a prank, Thomas!”
Brenda hissed, tears of anxiety welling in her eyes.
“Look at the woman’s phone in the box!
Look at her license!
They tracked her phone right to this building!”
Ryker frowned.
He stepped over to the counter, picked up the heavy gray phone out of the plastic bag, and turned it over.
There it was.
Printed in clear, official block lettering: PROPERTY OF U.S. GOVERNMENT. DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE.
Ryker felt a strange, cold sensation start at the base of his spine and wash slowly up to his neck.He took the phone receiver from Brenda’s hand.
He cleared his throat, trying to project his usual booming, authoritative tone.
“This is Sheriff Thomas Ryker,” he said into the mouthpiece.
“Who am I speaking to?”
“Sheriff Ryker,” Colonel Vance’s voice cut through the line like a scalpel.
“I am Colonel Marcus Vance, Executive Officer to Major General Sarah Reynolds, Deputy Chief of Staff for Logistics, United States Army.
Am I correct in understanding that General Reynolds is currently inside your facility?”
Ryker hesitated.
His mind was racing, trying to reconcile the woman in jeans and a white blouse—the woman he had called “girl” and shoved into Cell Four—with the title being spoken into his ear.