A big accomplishment for a man who’d nearly lost his mind when the life he’d dreamed of slipped out of his grasp. Stolen was a more accurate term, but according to the army shrinks, that word held negative connotations. They wanted him to reframe, rephrase, re-everything when all he wanted was to rewind and make a different choice in the early hours of his wedding day.
“They’re ready for you now, Mr. Bryant.”
She was back and he hadn’t even heard her approach. He knew better, knew he had to keep his mind off the past or it would swallow him up. Drew stood and smiled. “Thanks for this.” He extended the tablet.
“You’re welcome.” She accepted the device with another courteous smile. “This way.”
He followed the slender woman, the only sound the click of her heels, but even that went quiet when she turned down a carpeted hallway. They passed a bank of blacked-out windows of what was probably a conference room. When they passed another small reception area and one nearly closed office door, Drew’s stomach dropped.
They were headed for the corner office, a destination that in his experience didn’t ever add up to anything good. The woman stopped at the open door, announced him, then stepped back. Going forward was the only option. She closed the door behind him as he entered.
He felt underdressed in his gym clothes compared to the man in the dark suit and expensive tie. The man rose from his elegant chair and came around the desk quickly, hand extended. “I’m Director Thomas Casey.” The grip was firm and brief as they shook hands. “Come have a seat, Mr. Bryant.”
Drew couldn’t hide his surprise. Thomas Casey was one of those names whispered in dark corners by people with the highest clearances. Among the microcommunity of black ops and special operations, the man who supposedly coordinated a crack team of “Specialists” was nearly urban legend. “I thought you were a myth,” Drew admitted as Thomas returned to his big chair behind the desk.
“That’s the way I like it.” The smile was as firm and as brief as the handshake. “I appreciate your cooperation on such short notice.”
“Didn’t feel like there was much choice, sir.”
“Call me Thomas.”
Another surprise. “Sure.”
“You saw the end of the game, I trust.”
“Yes, thank you.” He wondered if Thomas arranged for the game to be recorded, or if one of his Specialists had pulled it off YouTube.
“It came down to the wire.”
Drew nodded. “Always better for both teams that way.”
“Probably so.” Thomas studied Drew another moment. “Solid effort and a close call incite more determination to win the next game. We understand that here,” he said. “I’ve looked into your background as well as your present situation. What you’re doing in Detroit is good work.”
“I like it,” Drew said, hiding his surprise at the compliment. “And I’d like to get back to it.”
“I’m sure. Let’s talk about that. It’s not my practice to pull people away from good work, but I find myself in a tight spot. I believe your skills and knowledge would be helpful.”
Drew waited in silence, curious. He no longer had the security clearance to even sit in this room. Thomas, having poked through his background, knew that. None of Drew’s kids were into anything that would be of interest to the director. He couldn’t think of a single way he could be helpful, but he’d listen. It would be rude not to after he’d been hauled out here.
“You aren’t curious?” Thomas asked.
“I am.” But he wasn’t going to reveal anything to this master spook by asking questions.
“All right.” Thomas gave a wry chuckle when Drew didn’t elaborate. “Federal authorities made an arrest based on an almost anonymous tip.”
Almost anonymous? Drew hadn’t heard that phrase before.
“The person who shared the information requested that she be left out of it and we’re doing our best to honor that from an investigative standpoint.”
Drew wanted to stop Thomas right there, to point out that he wasn’t in the market for a bodyguard gig, didn’t have the head for it anymore, but he kept his mouth shut and his ears open.
“You’ve been through some hard times, Mr. Bryant.”
“Drew is fine,” he replied, wondering why the subject had changed. If this had something to do with the bastards who’d held him as a POW for six years in a cave in Afghanistan, he might opt in to whatever the director had in mind. A little revenge could go a long way toward healing. It was a dangerous line of thought, but Drew let it play out. Thinking about something and acting on it were two different animals. He’d learned that quickly as a prisoner and in the agonizing months of recovery that followed his escape and rescue.
“Do you feel you’re fit for service?”
Drew met Thomas’s assessing gaze. “Depends on the type of service, I suppose. The army found me to be more hindrance than help.”
“Are you?”
“Didn’t have the chance to find out,” Drew blurted before thinking through a better reply.
“Tell me about your recovery.”
Drew could see no way of avoiding the topic. Not in this room. Better to lay it out there than allow Thomas to continue to entertain his delusions. If the man managed to maintain myth status in a place like Washington, Drew could safely assume his personal secrets wouldn’t leave the room.
Still, he played it close. “Long. Physically, I’d lost muscle mass to the malnutrition and poor conditions. That came back quick enough after a few weeks in the hospital with proper nutrition and a few months of physical therapy. They had to reset an arm and do a little work on my back.”
He still felt guilty and selfish when he thought of those endless days with no contact beyond hospital staff and the occasional visit from a chaplain or army officials. He should have been full of gratitude, but instead he’d battled a terrible sense of loss and isolation no matter how they praised him for surviving.
“I heard your father died while you were a prisoner.”
“Yes.” His superiors had explained valid reasons for not publicizing his return to anyone, not even family. “They showed me the obituary, told me he was buried next to my mom.”
“No one from your past knows you’re alive. There’s no reason to keep your survival a secret now.”
“There’s no reason to throw a parade, either,” Drew countered. “A few people from my old neighborhood recognized me when I came back.”
“I’m sure they were happy to see you.”
“Pretty much.” Almost a year later, he was okay with his neighbors, too. With his father dead, the only other person Drew had wanted to see was the bride he’d left waiting at the altar. She was the final piece of his recovery, and everyone who’d had a hand in it knew he needed to reach out to her. Too bad no one had warned him what he’d find.
Despite the years, having heard about his wedding plans from his father, the neighbors were eager to meet the woman they’d only seen in wedding announcement photos. When he’d felt strong enough, he’d gone looking for her and returned alone. After about six months his neighbors stopped asking about her.
“Took a while to get past all the sympathy,” Drew said. It was all the explanation he felt Thomas needed on his personal life.
“That’s reasonable.”
It sure hadn’t felt that way at the time, but it was done now and he had carved out a new place for himself. He might