Chapter 3
General Grant entered the garage like winter had learned to walk.
She was small.
Calm.
Terrifying.
“Colonel Walker,” she said.
“General.”
My father’s face shifted.
He finally understood that this was not a misunderstanding he could shout down.
Grant looked at my family.
“I understand you attempted to relocate Colonel Walker to an unheated garage while she is pregnant.”
Victoria snapped, “That is none of your concern.”
Grant’s eyes moved to her.
“It became my concern when this residence was placed under federal protection.”
My mother gripped the doorframe.
“Federal protection?”
I looked at Marcus’s house.
Our house.
The house my family had treated like a spare room in their own hotel.
“Marcus’s final mission involved domestic financial targets,” Grant said.
Raymond flinched.
There it was.
Small.
But enough.
Grant saw it too.
She always saw everything.
Reeves handed her a folder.
“Ma’am, the warrant team is five minutes out.”
Raymond’s voice cracked.
“Warrant?”
I turned to him.
“What did you do?”
He laughed weakly.
“This is insane.”
Grant opened the folder.
“Raymond Hale. Investment advisor. Three fraud complaints sealed through private arbitration. Two shell corporations tied to military contractor payments. One active investigation connected to Lieutenant Colonel Marcus Walker’s final report.”
The baby kicked again.
Hard.
My hand went to my belly.
Marcus.
What had you found?
Victoria stepped in front of Raymond.
“You can’t accuse my husband in our family home.”
Grant looked around the garage.
“This is Colonel Walker’s home.”
My father whispered, “What report?”
Grant’s face softened when she looked at me.
“Amelia, Marcus sent a dead-drop file before the convoy attack.”
I stopped breathing.
“He sent what?”
Her voice lowered.
“Your husband may have been killed because of what he uncovered.”
Raymond backed toward his car.
Reeves moved first.
May you like
“Sir, do not enter that vehicle.”
Raymond ran anyway.
