Because somewhere in all this paperwork may not be the answer to why Pamela was targeting Jane Evans. But there was an answer to who Simon and Terry’s client was.
And Charlie was going to find it.
17
GABE
Gabe sat in the sterile waiting room of the Jacksonville Naval Hospital, his injured leg propped on the chair beside him, crutches leaning against his knee. Jane sat next to him, her hand resting on his arm—a quiet, steady presence that kept him grounded when everything inside him wanted to bolt.
He had been in countless high-pressure situations. He’d faced enemy fire, made split-second life-or-death decisions, and led his team through hostile territory. But sitting here, waiting to find out if his career was over, felt harder than any of those moments.
Because those situations had been about survival. This was about identity. About who he was when he was not a Navy SEAL anymore.
“You okay?” Jane asked softly, her thumb tracing small circles on his forearm.
“Yeah,” Gabe said, though his voice came out rougher than he intended. “Just ready to get this over with.”
A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Bennett? Gabe Bennett?”
“That’s me,” Gabe said, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up.
Jane stood too, and Gabe felt a rush of gratitude that she was here. That she had driven him the two hours to Jacksonville without complaint, that she had offered to sit in the waiting room or come with him, whatever he needed.
“You can come with me if you want,” Gabe said quietly.
“Are you sure?” Jane asked.
“I’m sure,” Gabe confirmed. “I want you there.”
They followed the nurse down a long corridor to an examination room. The walls were covered with anatomical charts and medical equipment that looked intimidating even to someone who had received field medical training.
Dr. Sarah Park entered a few minutes later, a woman in her forties with kind eyes and an air of competence that immediately put Gabe at ease. She reviewed his chart, asked him questions about pain levels and mobility, and then conducted a thorough examination of his leg.
“The bone is healing well,” Dr. Park said as she studied the X-rays on the light board. “Better than I expected, actually, given the severity of the initial break. You’ve been following the physical therapy protocol?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gabe confirmed.
“Good,” Dr. Park said. She turned to face him directly. “Now let’s talk about the shrapnel.”
Gabe’s chest tightened. This was the part that would determine everything.
“The piece lodged near your femoral artery is still there,” Dr. Park continued. “It hasn’t migrated, which is good. But it’s also not going anywhere on its own. The question is whether we attempt removal or leave it in place.”
“What are the risks of removal?” Jane asked, speaking up for the first time.
Dr. Park glanced at her, then at Gabe. “Your wife?”
“Friend,” Gabe said, though the word felt inadequate. “But she can hear anything you need to tell me.”
Dr. Park nodded. “The risks of removal are significant. The shrapnel is positioned in such a way that extracting it could damage the artery, leading to catastrophic bleeding. However, leaving it in place comes with its own risks—potential for migration, infection, or vascular complications down the line.”
“What do you recommend?” Gabe asked.
“There’s an experimental procedure being developed at Walter Reed,” Dr. Park said carefully. “It uses advanced imaging and robotic assistance to remove foreign objects from high-risk locations. The success rate is promising—about seventy percentfor cases like yours. It could make the extraction significantly safer.”
Hope flickered in Gabe’s chest. “So I could get it removed safely and be cleared for duty?”
Dr. Park’s expression softened with sympathy. “Gabe, even if the procedure is successful and we remove the shrapnel without complications, I can’t clear you for active combat duty.”
