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I had attended promotions, funerals, retirements, casualty briefings, weddings, births, court proceedings, emergency
evacuations, and memorial services.
Men I had served with had named children after officers who helped them.
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Families had mailed me photographs.
Former soldiers had sent letters years after leaving the service.
But I had never met these twins.
At least, I did not believe I had.
“Your father showed you my picture?”
Owen nodded.
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“When?”
“Before he went to the hospital.”
A cold pressure formed behind my ribs.
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“What was your father’s name?”
The woman wearing the beige coat suddenly called from across the gate.
“Don’t answer him!”
Every officer looked toward her.
So did I.
Fear had replaced the frustration on her face.
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Not irritation.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
Clear, unmistakable fear.
Airport police stepped closer.
One officer, a woman with silver streaks running through her hair, lifted a hand.
