Chapter 3 - The Car Across the Street
Daniel killed the lights.
Emma whispered, “What are you doing?”
“Stay away from the windows.”
The dark sedan remained parked across the street.
No headlights.
No movement.
Daniel crossed the living room and pulled the curtain aside less than an inch.
He could make out the outline of someone in the driver’s seat.
His training took over before his emotions could catch up.
Doors.
Windows.
Rear access.
Lines of sight.
He checked the back entrance and locked it.
Emma followed.
“Daniel, you’re scaring me.”
“Good.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“Fear keeps people alert.”
“I’m already alert.”
He looked at her.
“Then stop standing in front of glass.”
She moved.
His phone remained connected to Agent Pierce.
Daniel put it on speaker.
“Vehicle across from the house. Black sedan. One occupant, possibly two.”
Pierce’s voice sharpened.
“Do you recognize it?”
“No.”
“Plate?”
“Can’t see.”
“We’re sending local units.”
“How long?”
“Eight minutes.”
Daniel muttered, “That’s forever.”
Emma stared at him.
“You really think somebody came here because of the documents?”
“I don’t know.”
Pierce answered for him.
“We’ve had two breaches connected to the Ridgeway investigation in the last month.”
Emma’s face changed.
“You never told me.”
“We believed the witness list remained protected.”
“Well, apparently it didn’t.”
Daniel looked at her sharply.
“Two breaches?”
Pierce hesitated.
“One confidential source withdrew after receiving anonymous threats.”
“And the other?”
Pierce did not answer immediately.
Daniel felt the room tighten.
“What happened to the other source?”
“They were involved in a vehicle collision.”
Emma whispered, “Oh my God.”
Pierce quickly added, “We do not know whether it was connected.”
Daniel’s eyes returned to the curtain.
The sedan’s brake lights flashed.
“Vehicle’s moving.”
Emma stepped closer.
The black car pulled away.
Daniel watched until it disappeared.
“Gone.”
Pierce said, “Police are still coming.”
Daniel turned.
Emma had gone to the kitchen.
She was collecting the printed documents.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting these somewhere safe.”
“No. Leave them.”
“I’m not leaving evidence on your counter.”
“They already know you have it.”
She stopped.
That truth landed hard.
Daniel ended the call after arranging to meet Pierce at a federal office downtown.
Then he stood in the kitchen with Emma.
The forty notes suddenly seemed absurdly innocent beside the folder.
“You should have told me.”
Emma’s jaw tightened.
“You were deployed.”
“I was involved.”
“You were in a war zone.”
“That doesn’t mean you make decisions for me.”
“And what exactly would you have done from seven thousand miles away?”
Daniel had no answer.
Emma continued.
“You had soldiers depending on you. Rachel told me how little you were sleeping. She told me you blamed yourself for Lewis.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Use him to justify this.”
“I’m not.”
“You almost got yourself targeted.”
“And maybe people in your unit were targeted first.”
Daniel slammed his palm against the counter.
Emma flinched.
The sound shocked them both.
Daniel stepped back immediately.
“Sorry.”
Emma’s voice softened.
“I know.”
He turned away.
Sergeant Lewis’s face appeared in his mind.
Thirty-six years old.
Two kids.
Always carried cinnamon gum.
Had called Daniel “Captain America” whenever Daniel became too serious.
The last thing Lewis said before the explosion had been, “When we get back, you’re buying.”
Daniel had promised.
There had been no “back.”
Emma watched him.
“I didn’t do this because I wanted to play hero.”
“Then why?”
“Because someone knew.”
Daniel looked at her.
“If I had kept quiet and later found out your convoy was hit because information was mishandled…”
Her voice broke.
“I couldn’t live with that.”
Daniel stared at her.
The confession note lay between them.
Suddenly he understood why it had been written that night.
Not simply because she thought he might die.
Because she had already started suspecting something larger.
“You knew before March fourth?”
“No.”
“You said you saw the number in January.”
“I saw a connection. I didn’t know what it meant.”
“And after the attack?”
“I knew enough to be terrified.”
Daniel sat heavily at the kitchen table.
Emma slowly joined him.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Then Daniel asked, “Why forty?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“The notes.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
A faint, bewildered smile crossed her face.
“Because apparently your brain handles trauma by changing subjects.”
“My brain handles trauma by collecting information.”
Emma leaned back.
“I wrote the first one in November.”
“Which one?”
She pointed toward the shelf above the sink.
Daniel found a small blue note.
Day 12.
Your sister gave me a key and told me not to burn the place down.
No promises.
He smiled.
“Day twelve?”
“After you left.”
“You were counting?”
“I was bored.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. Rachel was counting.”
“Liar.”
Emma looked at him.
“You’re incredibly annoying for someone I spent eight months worrying about.”
Daniel lowered the note.
There it was again.
The confession hovering around every word.
“Emma.”
She stood abruptly.
“We should get ready.”
“For?”
“Meeting your investigator.”
“You’re avoiding this.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
She picked up the folder.
Daniel caught her wrist gently.
She stopped.
He released it immediately.
“I read what you wrote.”
“I noticed.”
“You meant it?”
Emma looked away.
“March fourth was a bad night.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Her eyes returned to his.
“Yes.”
The single word hit harder than the confession had.
“Yes, Daniel.”
She folded her arms tightly.
“I meant it when I wrote it. I meant it the next morning. I meant it when Rachel called to say you were alive.”
“Emma—”
“And I meant it when I almost threw the letter away.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She laughed softly.
“Because some stupid part of me thought you should know someday.”
Daniel stood.
“You could have told me.”
“You were dating Lauren when you deployed.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Emma blinked.
“You broke up?”
“Three weeks before.”
“Rachel said—”
“Rachel thought we were taking space.”
Emma stared at him.
“We were done.”
A strange silence followed.
Emma looked genuinely shaken.
“You never told anyone.”
“I had other things on my mind.”
She swallowed.
Daniel continued.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Anyone?”
“No.”
“During eight months?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You really need me to answer that?”
Before Daniel could respond, police lights flashed through the front windows.
Emma exhaled.
“Saved by law enforcement.”
The officers checked the property.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
No one had seen the sedan’s plate.
An hour later, Daniel and Emma drove downtown.
Agent Pierce met them inside a secure federal building.
He was in his forties, compact, gray suit, tired eyes.
He shook Daniel’s hand.
Then Emma’s.
“You’re both going to dislike what I’m about to say.”
Daniel sat.
“Try me.”
Pierce opened a folder.
“Ridgeway Transit was not leaking convoy information intentionally.”
Emma frowned.
“That’s good.”
“No.”
Pierce slid a photograph across the table.
It showed a man in a business suit entering a parking garage.
Emma froze.
Daniel noticed.
“You know him?”
Emma whispered, “That’s Martin Vale.”
“My former vice president.”
Pierce nodded.
“He authorized internal suppression of the security concerns.”
Emma’s face hardened.
“I knew it.”
“But he wasn’t protecting Ridgeway.”
Pierce placed another photograph beside it.
A man in military uniform.
Daniel’s pulse changed.
He knew the face.
Colonel Warren Hale.
His former battalion executive officer.
Pierce looked directly at Daniel.
“Hale was selling operational movement data.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
Pierce continued.
“We believe he used civilian contractors to disguise the access trail.”
Daniel stared at Hale’s photograph.
“No.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“He was there after the ambush.”
“We know.”
“He stood beside me at Lewis’s memorial.”
“We know.”
Daniel’s hands curled into fists.
Pierce leaned forward.
“There’s more.”
Emma looked at him.
“What?”
Pierce placed a third photograph on the table.
This one had been taken recently.
Outside Daniel’s house.
It showed the dark sedan.
The driver’s face was visible.
Daniel did not recognize him.
Emma did.
Her chair scraped backward.
“No.”
Daniel turned.
“Who is he?”
Emma couldn’t speak.
Pierce answered.
“His name is Caleb Callahan.”
Daniel looked from the photograph to Emma.
Same last name.
Her face had gone white.
May you like
Pierce said quietly:
“He’s Emma’s older brother.”
