Page 72 of A Hero Comes Home

When Sally thought about everything that had happened since they’d left the house this morning, her mind boggled. And the day wasn’t over yet.

After their voracious bout of sex on the kitchen table, she and Jake voraciously scarfed up leftovers in the fridge, from ham and cheese on swirl bread to rice pudding, and everything in between. Salads, diced fruits, crab dip with crusty bits of a French loaf. And two of Delilah’s specialty cinnamon rolls, a peach pecan and a ginger apple. Yum! They’d washed it all down with some of Father Brad’s wine.

Sally offered to clean up, and Jake made his way upstairs to take a hot shower. Although she’d told him she would join him shortly in the shower, she was going to delay, to give him time to get his act together. The day was catching up with his body aches. As evidenced by his more pronounced limp and the fact that he took the backward method on the steps this time, that’s how bad off he was.

Making quick work of the cleanup, she went into the hall and removed her laptop from its leather bag. Taking it into the kitchen, she set it on the table and logged into her account. First off, she wanted to look at that press release that the DOD had put out the day after that bullshit general had come to inform her that her dead husband was, in fact, alive.

Carefully, she parsed out parts of the media document, realizing now what she hadn’t noticed before. It was very general, and could be interpreted in many ways. For example:

“Although Captain Dawson suffered serious injuries to one eye and a leg following a HALO jump into the mountains of Balakistan on May 19, 2016 . . .”

She realized that in this statement, it hadn’t said, exactly, that his injuries occurred as a result of the jump. Could they have occurred later? she wondered. Like under torture?

Then there was this statement:

“He managed to survive for three years by living in a remote cave in the middle of hostile territory, with the aid of some rebel friendlies.”

So, did this mean he was hiding in a cave, or that he was being kept in a cave? Like, as a prisoner?

And then, “Survival skills mastered during his military training helped the soldier to endure the brutal conditions.”

What brutal conditions?

“During recent high-level negotiations between the US and the newly elected Qadir government, the president first learned of Captain Dawson’s amazing survival story and demanded his immediate return. The President thanks Balakistan Minister of Defense Nazim bin Jamil for his efforts in this operation.”

There were so many questions here. Why did the Qadir government suddenly notify the US of Jake’s existence? And when? Were there negotiations involved? Politics, or humanity?

“Captain Dawson has been in Landstuhl Hospital in Germany, recovering from his injuries. Two other soldiers on Captain Dawson’s team, Sergeant Frank Bailey and Corporal David Guttierez, died on the mission, according to Captain Dawson.”

When did those two die, precisely? And how?

“The pilots who were to be rescued, Lieutenant Anton “Ace” Sampsell and Lieutenant Gerald Frank, were rescued in another section of Afghanistan soon after Captain Dawson went MIA.”

MIA? Baloney! I’m not buying it! Not anymore!

“For more information, contact US Department of Defense, Press Information, Major Raymond Durand, at the above address.”

Ah, the famous Major Durand! Yes, I have a few questions for you and your bogus press information.

She felt like such a fool. What was that old expression? “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Well, Sally was done being a fool.

Next up, she Googled Balakistan’s new minister of defense, Nazim bin Jamil. What popped up were an alarming two thousand and thirty-seven links going back ten years. When she clicked on an early one, her blood went cold and the hair rose on the back of her neck as she read an article in the Washington Post accusing the man of brutality on a level with some of the world’s worst villains. He’d been a Qadir tribal leader back then.

“Hey, Sal,” she heard Jake call from the top of the stairs. “When you come up, would you bring a glass of ice water and that vial of pills in the downstairs bathroom medicine cabinet?”

“Sure,” she called out. “Be right there.”

Sally had more sleuthing to do, lots more, before she confronted Jake with what she was beginning to suspect. For now, she had more important things on her mind. Like those three precious words he’d said to her, and what they meant in the scheme of all these other issues. Most glaring had to be, at least to him, that she hadn’t said the words back to him.

And she wasn’t sure why.

Were they night terrors, or night terrorists? . . .

The day had taken more out of Jake than he’d realized. He’d barely been able to continue standing in the shower with the pain racking his back and leg. Even his damaged eyeball hurt.

He sat on the edge of the bed until Sally came up with the ice water and his pain meds. Impatiently, he popped one pill and downed the entire glass of water.

“Are you okay?” she asked.