“Swift Water Combatant-Crew, SWCC?” Rylee asked. “Really?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know that existed. I had to look it up on my phone. And here I thought it was the SEALs who did the badassery.”
“Yeah, those are the guys who use high-speed stealth boats to do the SEALs insertion and extraction. They’re the ones responsible for getting the SEALs where they need to go and get them back out successfully.”
“Jasper and Dakota were in selection at Coronado at the same time. Anyway, you, Dakota, and Jasper have the Navy in common. We should all go out one night, double date.”
Rylee wrinkled her nose.
“Dakota’s cute.”
Rylee pulled her lips into a thin smile and lifted her brows.
“You’re in a dry spell.”
“Well, there is that.” Rylee stood and walked to her coat hook. “When do we think we’ll hear from Iniquus about the list of people that our teams interacted with on missions? You told them not to document the locals, right? Just the foreigners there to provide relief?”
“I did. I’m not sure how long it will take,” Neesa said. “General Elliot mentioned something about prioritizing it in the queue. They must have some kind of triage system. They’re concerned they have counterfeit bills in their safe as well, and they’re contacting Jasper and Dakota about it. Ironically, Hailey says Cerberus Tactical is doing Tank’s training.”
“Iniquus is in the same boat as we are,” Rylee said. “Their reputation allows them to operate. I think that’s motivation to find out who’s doing this and deal with them. I’m glad we have tapes to maybe help figure it out. You contacted Casey Andrews?”
“I left a message to get back with me, and that it was urgent. If I don’t hear from him within the hour, I’ll reach out to Langley and give them a heads up.”
. “Okay, well, I’m off to figure out how to make life better for a group of very important people, and I’m doing it by dangling off the side of a climbing wall.”
“Enjoy.” Neesa started out the door when Rylee’s phone sounded with a new ringtone—an obnoxious, braying alarm clock.
Rylee snatched her cell phone from her thigh pocket, looked at the number, then shook the phone victoriously at Neesa. With a grin, she brought the phone to her ear. “Rylee Jones, speaking.”
“Ms. Jones. This is the scheduling desk at Browning Neurological Group.”
“Yes, thank you for calling me.” Rylee held up crossed fingers.
“You’re on our expedited list, and we have a cancellation spot this morning for a full workup if you can get here in the next thirty minutes. You will need several hours to move through the process.”
“I’m on it. I’m coming. Hold my spot.” Rylee’s hands were shaking as she tapped her app to get a car headed in her direction. “Change of plans.” She looked up to catch Neesa’s gaze. “There’s an opening at that doctor’s if I go now.”
Neesa stood up and pointed toward the door. “Why aren’t you downstairs already? Go. Go. Go.”
Rylee raced down the corridor and stabbed her finger into the elevator button.
By the time Rylee reached the front, her car was waiting.
She was whisked magically from green light to green light, making almost magical time as she sped through the city to the Browning Neurological Group.
Multiple Sclerosis was a chronic autoimmune disease that affected the central nervous system by breaking down the myelin sheath—the fatty protective layer that wraps the nerves like the jacket around the wires that run through her house. If you strip a wire and expose it to the air, it can shock and spark, short-circuiting the system. Same with the nerve bundles in the body.
The trigger wasn’t known. Possibly a virus like Epstein Barr set it off, sometimes it was a lack of Vitamin D. Though, from her own time in the war out under the hot desert sun, Rylee figured she’d banked enough Vitamin D for two lifetimes.
And she trained hard as a triathlete, so the D was a constant.
The training was supposed to help her build a vital force against viruses. She covered her bases as best she could.
But today was a full work-up, afullwork-up.
When Rylee had planted herself in the waiting room to look Rose’s friend in the eye and personally hand over the blue sticky note, the nurse said they had their own team that included advanced imaging and blood tests. Rylee wouldn’t be sent from place to place as they assessed her symptoms. And the nurse emphasized that it allowed them to take a team approach, sharing expertise in meetings and developing a comprehensive plan that included nutrition, exercise, and the potential to work with experimental treatments.
Rylee had left her spreadsheet, which included her preferred clinical trials, the one she’d worked up with her friendJohn Madoc, who was now doing research on the use of CAR T-cell therapy to treat autoimmune conditions like MS.
