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“Ma’am, you need to remain quiet while we determine what happened here.”
“She doesn’t understand what she’s saying,” the
stepmother said. “She’s five.”
Lily flinched.
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I stood.
Slowly.
I had commanded troops in situations where one poor decision could cost lives. I understood what panic looked like. I recognized how people sounded when they were creating explanations faster than they could remember them.
And I recognized what uncertainty looked like when someone finally realized the room had stopped accepting their story.
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I turned again toward Lily.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” I said.
Her small fingers tightened around Owen’s hand.
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Then she whispered the name.
“Daniel Carter.”
Everything inside me froze.
Marco stared at me.
“Sir?”
I couldn’t respond.
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Daniel Carter.
Captain Daniel Carter.
Thirty-seven years old the last time I had seen him.