Chapter 3 - The Secret Her Father Took to the Grave
Claire stopped breathing.
Daniel Donovan.
The name on Marcus’s screen belonged to a man who had been dead for eight years.
Her father had been a quiet, stubborn, funny man who repaired elevators in Philadelphia, loved baseball, burned nearly everything he cooked and never once mentioned Gabriel Vale.
At least Claire thought he hadn’t.
“That’s impossible.”
Marcus said nothing.
Claire looked at Gabriel.
“You knew my father?”
“Yes.”
The answer hit harder than she expected.
“How?”
“Claire—”
“How?”
Gabriel’s surgery transport team shifted uncomfortably.
He looked toward them.
“Give us a minute.”
This time Claire did not object.
The staff stepped away.
Gabriel lowered his voice.
“Your father wasn’t an elevator mechanic.”
Claire laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“He was an intelligence officer.”
“No.”
“He worked under civilian cover for twenty-three years.”
“No.”
“He recruited me.”
Claire stared.
The corridor seemed to tilt.
“My father hated guns.”
“Most good intelligence officers hate guns.”
“He complained about parking tickets.”
“Daniel complained about everything.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
Claire hated that he could make her recognize her father inside an impossible story.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“Why would he write letters pretending to be you?”
Gabriel looked down.
“He wasn’t pretending.”
“What does that mean?”
“He knew how I felt about you.”
Claire’s anger disappeared.
Something quieter replaced it.
“How you felt?”
Gabriel’s gaze lifted.
“Not now.”
She folded her arms.
“You do not get to say that after detonating my entire childhood in a hospital hallway.”
Marcus looked away.
Gabriel rubbed his forehead.
“Your father believed anyone close to me would become a target. After Afghanistan, he ordered me to stay away from you.”
“You obeyed?”
“For a while.”
Claire caught the wording.
“For a while?”
Gabriel’s mouth tightened.
“Apparently he intercepted my messages.”
The letters suddenly made sense in a way that made everything worse.
They had been gentle.
Protective.
Never romantic.
Her father had been translating Gabriel’s silence into something Claire could survive.
“You tried to contact me.”
“Every week.”
Claire sat on a hallway chair.
The strength went out of her legs.
Gabriel wheeled closer.
“Claire.”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
She stared at the floor.
“What happened to him?”
Gabriel’s face changed.
Claire noticed immediately.
Her father had died in a supposed car accident outside Harrisburg.
She had accepted it.
Grieved it.
Buried him.
Moved on as much as anyone moves on after losing a parent.
“Gabriel.”
He said nothing.
She looked directly at him.
“My father’s death wasn’t an accident, was it?”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
That was enough.
Claire stood.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since the night it happened.”
Her palm struck his face before she consciously decided to move.
Marcus stepped forward.
Gabriel raised his hand.
Marcus stopped.
Claire stared at the red mark spreading along Gabriel’s cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
She wasn’t.
Tears burned behind her eyes.
“You let me bury him believing he fell asleep driving.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“Everybody keeps saying that as if lying to me is some heroic act.”
Gabriel took the blow without defending himself.
“Your father uncovered the person controlling the supply network in Afghanistan.”
“Who?”
“We never found the full chain.”
“Rourke?”
“No.”
“Julian?”
Gabriel hesitated.
Claire saw it.
“You suspected your brother.”
“I suspected everyone.”
“Do you still?”
“Yes.”
A surgical nurse appeared at the end of the hallway.
“Commander Vale?”
Claire turned away.
Gabriel watched her.
“I can postpone.”
She looked back.
“What?”
“The surgery.”
“No.”
“I won’t go under while you’re like this.”
Claire almost shouted.
Instead she walked toward him, crouched and adjusted the blanket across his knees.
“You are having surgery.”
“Claire.”
“You don’t get to use your spine as emotional leverage.”
Marcus made a coughing sound.
Gabriel glared at him.
Claire continued.
“You’re going into that operating room. I’m going to sit outside. When you wake up, we’re going to continue this conversation.”
“What if I don’t wake up?”
The question stopped her.
Behind the medals and reputation sat real fear.
Claire put one hand over his.
“Then I will be furious with you forever.”
His fingers closed around hers.
“I can live with that.”
“That was the wrong answer.”
A small smile appeared.
Then disappeared.
He was taken into surgery at 12:07 a.m.
Claire waited.
Two hours.
Three.
At 3:41, Dr. Mercer emerged.
Claire stood immediately.
“Well?”
“The decompression went better than expected.”
She exhaled.
“Movement?”
“Too early.”
“But?”
“There’s reason for optimism.”
Claire sat again.
Her entire body shook once.
Then stopped.
Marcus handed her coffee.
She accepted it.
“You knew my father too?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“He saved my life.”
Claire looked up.
Marcus sat opposite her.
“He also hated my haircut.”
That sounded like Daniel Donovan.
She smiled despite herself.
“What was he really like?”
“Exactly like you remember.”
“Except the spy part.”
“Except that.”
Marcus took a breath.
“He loved you more than anything.”
Claire stared into the coffee.
“Then why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because his world was dangerous.”
“So he chose for me.”
Marcus nodded.
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
Around dawn, Claire was allowed into recovery.
Gabriel slept.
Without the uniform, he looked younger.
More human.
She sat beside him.
Hours later, his eyes opened.
“Claire?”
“I’m here.”
He swallowed.
“Legs?”
“Mercer says we wait.”
Gabriel stared at the ceiling.
Claire watched fear move across his face.
Then his right foot twitched.
Barely.
A tiny movement.
Claire froze.
“Do that again.”
“What?”
“Your foot.”
He tried.
Nothing.
Then one toe moved.
Claire laughed.
Gabriel stared.
“Did it—”
“Yes.”
His eyes closed.
For the first time since she had met him again, emotion broke through completely.
Claire pretended not to notice the moisture at the corner of his eye.
A few hours later, physical therapy evaluated him.
Minimal motor response.
Promising nerve activity.
Long recovery.
No guarantees.
Gabriel accepted all of it.
Then Marcus entered carrying a sealed evidence bag.
“Sir.”
Gabriel looked up.
“We found something in the wreck.”
Inside the bag was a small metal device.
Claire frowned.
“What is it?”
Marcus placed it on the table.
“A tracker.”
Gabriel examined it.
“Manufacturer?”
“Vale Security.”
Gabriel went still.
Claire looked between them.
“Meaning?”
“Only six senior people have access to these.”
“Julian?”
“Yes.”
“Rourke?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
Marcus listed four names.
Claire recognized one.
Dr. Samuel Mercer.
She stared toward the glass wall.
“That cannot be right.”
Gabriel immediately reached for his phone.
At that exact moment, an alarm sounded.
Not Gabriel’s monitor.
The hallway.
A hospital-wide security alert.
Doors automatically began locking.
Claire stood.
Marcus touched his earpiece.
“What happened?”
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Someone accessed the pharmacy.”
Gabriel’s eyes hardened.
“What was taken?”
Marcus answered slowly.
“Medication assigned to your room.”
Claire turned toward the IV line hanging beside Gabriel.
A clear bag was already dripping into his vein.
She looked at the label.
May you like
Then at the initials signing off the medication.
They belonged to Dr. Mercer.
