A Soldier's Honour

Emergency lights spilled over the pavement, glaring off the nearby cars while Matt, General Knudson and the general’s driver relayed every detail they could recall about the incident to the responding officers from both the Alexandria, Virginia Police Department and the Metropolitan Police from Washington, DC, who turned out after hearing who had been attacked.

The team from Alexandria sealed the baseball into an evidence bag and labeled it. Based on their grim expressions, it seemed they weren’t confident an old baseball thrown by an unseen assailant in a nondescript car was much to work with either.

“Drunk driver maybe?” One officer wondered aloud.

“Doubtful,” Matt said. “He didn’t clip a single car as he raced up and down the lanes. His reaction time on the corners was spot-on.”

The officer took detailed notes and gathered both work and personal contact information for each of them before letting them go. Matt exchanged business cards with the officers as well. Watching the general’s car drive off, he was pleased to see two metro police cars providing an escort.

Checking the app on his cell phone, he saw the ride he’d called for had waited five minutes at the pick-up point and left. On a sigh, Matt paid the nominal fee for missing his ride and walked back to the bar to call a cab, his mind recycling the incident and reviewing it from every angle.

The attack in the parking lot seemed like an over-the-top effort to break a windshield when such a bland, three-word message could have been sent anonymously by mail, phone, email or even as a text message. The ball could have been thrown with more accuracy and equal impact by someone standing a few yards away. The baseball had to be significant. He’d mention it to Knudson tomorrow.

When the cab dropped him at his building, he was weary and more than a little grateful the Tuesday briefings were always scheduled an hour later in deference to their Monday-night schedule. Accommodating Knudson’s request, he sent a text message that he’d arrived safely.

He took the elevator up to his floor and walked into his dark condo, facing another wave of what might have been. The sensation struck him whenever he took on a new stateside assignment. Though he’d been here almost three months, the persistent melancholy lingered. Working a more nine-to-five role in a vibrant city full of parks, museums and monuments only emphasized what he was missing most: family to unwind with at the end of the day.

It was easier to forget what he didn’t have—what he’d chosen not to pursue—when he lived and worked on Army bases or when he was deployed. Not that he didn’t encounter plenty of families on Military installations; it was just more obvious in civilian surroundings.

A Military brat and proud of it, Matt felt more at ease within the necessary structure of an Army post. He flipped through the mail he’d dropped on his counter when he’d come home after work to change for the game, and then he tore open the envelope with the formal letter about the recent cyber-security attack on Military personnel records and swore. He’d known it was coming, but in his mind the successful breach remained a black mark against the world’s finest Military.

After opening the envelope, he read the precise statement on the first page. The dispassionate phrases were laced with legalese carefully worded to avoid any true claim of responsibility or liability, while promising to track down the culprits.

“Good luck with that,” Matt murmured.

The second page offered instructions on how to register with the selected identity-protection monitoring service.

He laughed. Were people really supposed to trust a recently hacked department to make the right choice on protective measures? The idea seemed counterintuitive to him. Matt wasn’t sure it made much difference these days. Personal information, from social security numbers to credit cards, seemed to be at risk every day, and clearly this incident proved no system was foolproof.

That didn’t make it any easier for Matt to accept. The men and women in uniform should be able to expect that their service records and their personal details, as well as the details of their dependents, were protected.

The only personal risk he could foresee with the breach was that someone other than his attorney and the security-clearance investigators might learn there was a woman out there raising his child. A child he’d never seen. He sent her money each month, had done so from the very beginning, not that she’d shown much enthusiasm for even that minimal involvement from him.

For some ridiculous reason, Bethany’s mile-wide streak of independence put a bright spot in his weary mood. He’d always admired her independence until she used it as both a reason and an excuse to keep him from his son.

He couldn’t see the son he’d never met or publicly acknowledged as being of much interest to whoever breached the personnel information office. Anyone bidding on the data would be eager to cash in on the fast, easy targets of credit cards and social security numbers to recycle and resell.

Matt tucked the letter into the folder with the other bills and business he would deal with tomorrow. Pushing a hand over his short hair, he walked back to the bedroom, too tired to appreciate his sparkling nighttime view of the marina nestled along the Washington Channel.

He made mental notes along the way. He’d call his lawyer first thing in the morning, just in case someone followed the money he sent to Bethany each month. Broadcasting the information wouldn’t be much risk for blackmail or any other unsavory action, but it was better to be prepared. His arrangement with Bethany was legal and only the people who needed to know, knew. If the news got out, it might be uncomfortable for both of them for a time, but it wouldn’t be devastating.

Unless the information wound up on one of those notorious leaks pages and his mother heard about it there before he had a chance to tell her. Matt swore.

His first call should be to his mom. She didn’t deserve to hear she had a grandchild from a hacker leak. That was the kind of error that could get him benched for the next few Riley-family flag football scrimmages. Again, not the end of the world, but not something his siblings would let him live down.

He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it into the laundry hamper, and then toed off his shoes. He flopped back on the bed and just stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. It was too late to call his mom tonight and he should probably give Bethany a warning call first, in case his mother insisted on learning more about the grandson Matt had kept hidden from her.

Briefly, he entertained the idea of riding it out. Wait and hope to maintain the status quo or come clean and hurt the people he loved most? The odds were in his favor that news of their son wouldn’t come out at all.

Too bad he couldn’t be sure if that was denial, logic or wishful thinking.

Troubled and restless, Matt went back to the kitchen and poured a glass of cold water. As he leaned back on the counter, he drank it down and set the glass aside. He should call his dad and tell him about Bethany and Caleb. His dad’s wisdom and calm insight had been the underpinning throughout his life. Maybe his dad would dredge up a little pity for his oldest son and help him break the news to Matt’s mom and help him find the words to explain that she couldn’t contact the kid.

Now that was wishful thinking.

General Benjamin Riley, US Army, retired, believed choices and actions had consequences, good and bad. When Ben found the love of his life, Patricia, he’d married her, and together they’d raised their five children into adulthood with that core principle as a cornerstone of character. Life as the family of a career officer had been more than strict rules and high expectations. There had been plenty of love, laughter, bickering and tears to round things out.

Despite that vast, wonderful, messy experience to draw from, he’d never been able to convince Bethany to give them a chance to grow as a family. That was the piece of this puzzle that would disappoint his father.

When he stopped to think about it, the security breach was less daunting than the Riley family consequences of keeping such a big secret for the better part of fifteen years. Recently his mother had been dropping hints as subtle as carpet bombs about the potential delights of becoming a grandmother. She would be furious when she discovered he’d been holding out on her.

After loading his empty glass into the dishwasher, he headed back to bed. He supposed it was too much to hope that one of his four siblings was ready to confess a character flaw as significant as a child floating around in the periphery of their lives.

He was being an idiot, he decided, waffling and overthinking the ramifications. The situation—the secret—would have to change in light of the security breach. Since Bethany had sent the first picture and their son’s birth stats to the JAG office almost fifteen years ago, he’d known this day would come. It was really a miracle it had taken this long.

This had to come out, and better if they got ahead of it. First they needed to give Caleb the full, big picture of his family tree. He pressed his hands to his eyes as the first step kept shifting on him. Figuring this out was like walking across loose sand. One footprint changed both the previous and subsequent steps. Regardless, Caleb came first. After that, he and Bethany could figure out how he and his parents could be woven into Caleb’s life.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to sort out what was relief and what was more stress. Countless times through the years, Matt had been tempted to unload this burden on one of his siblings or a good friend. Somehow he’d always managed to keep his mouth shut. According to Bethany’s updates, Caleb was pretty awesome and growing more so every year. The way things stood, Matt couldn’t share school pictures or sports heroics with anyone other than the JAG office.

No, his family and friends wouldn’t be happy he’d lied by omission, but they would come around. “They will come around.” Matt stated the affirmation to the empty condo.

He had his phone in hand and had started to dial before he remembered what time it was and dropped it back on the nightstand. Bethany had been a night owl once. Most likely a career and a kid had revised those habits. He missed that quirk and so much more. The bone-deep longing for her and his son seemed to be the one wound time couldn’t heal.

He stripped off his jeans and socks and tossed them into the hamper and crawled into bed. As he set his alarm for the morning, his cell phone vibrated and rang with an incoming call. Matt gawked at Bethany’s smiling face filling the display. He’d pulled the picture from a post on social media. Maybe she was still a night owl after all. “Hello?”

“We have a problem.” The abrupt statement aside, Bethany’s voice was like silk brushing over his skin. He wanted to wallow in it.

“Yeah, the security breach is inconvenient,” he began, pulling himself together. “But it’s not the end of the world. The odds are a million-to-one they’ll connect the two of us. We have some time to develop a strategy.”

“It’s already happened,” she said, her voice flat.

“What?” He couldn’t have heard her correctly. “What do you mean?”

“I received a creepy, handwritten threat today on official letterhead.”

Those two things didn’t mesh. “I’m not following,” Matt said.

Her soft sigh came over the phone, reminding him of the stolen moments they’d shared when they were younger. Moments that eventually became a wedge between them when she wound up pregnant.

How many times had he dreamed about convincing her to marry him? He hadn’t expected it to be a smooth road, but he’d been willing to navigate every pothole and speed bump with her. With her soft breath in his ear, he could imagine them in this bed right now, together, doing something far more fun than talking about a security breach.

“Matt? Are you there?”

“Yeah.” He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Focus on the reality. “What kind of creepy threat?”

“Instead of the letter I expected about the security breach, this is handwritten. Two lines. The gist is someone has done the math and decided I’m banking more than I make. The threat is that my secret will become common knowledge.”

“On the agency letterhead?” That was as strange as sending a threat via baseball. “Weird.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

He could tell she expected him to say something more profound. “Legally, you’re good.”

“I know that,” she said. “I’m not worried about the job or the clearance—I’m worried about Caleb.” She paused and he could so easily picture her teeth nipping into her full bottom lip. “I’m worried about your mom.”

“That makes two of us,” he admitted.

“You’ve never told her?” Bethany asked.

Was she joking? “If I had, you would’ve known.”

“True enough,” she said.

His parents had a reputation for their unflagging emphasis on maintaining family and balance within the Military framework. “I got my breach letter today, too. Mine was standard issue,” he added. “I figured I’d make time to speak to my parents tomorrow. After I spoke with you. I didn’t feel right saying anything until we talked.”

“Thanks.”

“I would’ve called sooner, except I just got home about an hour ago and thought you’d be happier if I called in the morning.”

“Oh.” The single syllable stretched out. “I couldn’t sleep and just wanted to make a plan,” she said briskly. “I’d like to tell Caleb before you tell anyone else.”

Was she asking for his permission or advice on breaking this news to their son? “Of course. How is he doing?” The last real-time conversation they’d had about Caleb was over three years ago, when he’d broken his wrist during a soccer game. Otherwise, she kept things vague, only sending Matt his school picture and occasional noteworthy updates about his grades or sporting successes.

Those small glimpses of Caleb had never been enough for him, yet he respected her wishes, her rules, because she’d given up everything to protect his place at West Point and, subsequently, his Army career. Time and again, he capitulated to the limits she set, because anything else made him feel grasping and whiny.

“He’s great,” she was saying. “I just don’t want him hearing this from anyone else. I’m not entirely sure how he’ll react,” she added.

“Has something changed?” The worry in her words felt like a knife twisting in his gut. This was only the second time he’d heard anything less than full confidence out of her. The first was when she’d been debating how best to be a mom and fulfill her career goals. “What’s going on with him?”

“Nothing,” she said a little too quickly. “Nothing’s changed. It’s still soccer and school, school and soccer. He’s a teenager, that’s all.”

Matt opened his mouth to push her, to make demands, but bit back the hard words. Instead he changed the subject. “Is he driving yet?” The query was a transparent attempt to learn if there was anything of him in his son.

“He’s studying for his learner’s permit. We’ll take care of that next week, while he’s on fall break.”

Matt remembered how excited he’d been for that same day as a kid. “Has he had any experience behind the wheel?” he asked, wondering if Caleb would have any interest or appreciation for the restored Camaro. Assuming they met.

“My dad has let him drive the four-wheeler on camping trips, and he’s let him drive the tractor on their property. I’m told he’s still pretty rough on the manual transmission, but he’s improving.”

“That’s good. It takes time,” he said. “You have enough set aside to buy him a car? I can send more money—”

“When that time comes, we’ll talk about it,” she said in a stern voice that bore a striking resemblance to Patricia Riley’s mom voice. “It’s still a good year or more away.”

He’d always believed the two women would get along well. They’d met once during a family day at West Point and seemed to hit it off, though his mom hadn’t known how vital Bethany was to him at the time. If she hadn’t forced him to keep Caleb a secret...well, now Matt had no idea what his mom might say or do when they met again.

And they would meet. Once Patricia learned about Caleb, she would be adamant about welcoming him into the Riley clan.

“Look, Matt, I called to make you aware of the creep-factor in this note,” she said. “I’ll report it to the security team at my office tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“Matt, I’d like you to be here.”

“At your office?” He held the phone back from his face as if that would clear up his confusion. “Huh?”

“When I tell Caleb, I would like you to be here with me. Us.”

His hand tightened around the phone. “You mean it?”

“Yes. I think it will help him understand if we’re telling him together. Help him feel valued and that we’ve always wanted what was best for him.”

He was going to meet his son. His heart hammered against his ribs. “Sure.” He had to find some real words. After all these years of wishing and wondering, he’d get to look his kid in the eyes, maybe even hug him or shake his hand. “Tell me when and where,” he managed at last. Too many emotions were warring for dominance. “I’ll be there.”

“Here, please. He’ll be home from practice around six and we could eat at seven.”

Matt was already doing the mental juggling over the drive time from Washington to her place in New Jersey, calculating how early he might need to leave work. He’d speak to General Knudson first thing in the morning, but there was no way he was missing that invitation.

“Once Caleb knows, you’ll be okay with me telling my parents?” he asked.

“I have to be, don’t I?”

He would have preferred the catalyst for meeting his son wasn’t her feeling cornered by some vague threat in a letter. Bethany didn’t have enemies, not like General Knudson or even his dad had. In careers as long and storied as theirs, enemies of several varieties began to stack up, from disgruntled soldiers to politicians, both local and abroad. He sighed. He could hear the conflict and misery in her voice. As much as he hated to give her a pass on this, he felt obligated.

“I can’t think of any reason anyone would target the three of us,” he said. “If you’d like to ride it out, we can. Whoever sent that threat will know soon enough there’s nothing to be gained. If you want to wait a bit before we have these conversations, I will respect that.”

“No.” Her voice was calm and steady, if not delighted by the prospect of tomorrow’s family dinner. “I’ve put this off long enough. I won’t risk him learning about this from another source.”

“All right.” Once more, he gave her full control, let her dictate how this played out. “I’ll be there at seven.”

“Thanks, Matt.”

“Thanks for the invitation.” She could have handled this mess alone and told Matt after it was done. She’d made it clear through the years that she could manage this parenting gig on her own.

He thought he heard a sniffle, but when she spoke, her voice was steady, if quiet. “I know this will change everything,” she began. “I only ask that it doesn’t change everything immediately. Caleb will need time to process this.”

“I understand.” She was warning him away from any abrupt changes over their custody agreement. “I’ve only ever wanted you and Caleb to be safe and happy.”

“Thanks for that,” she said, ending the call.

Matt held the phone to his chest. When he closed his eyes and thought of her, he still saw the athletic young woman he’d met when they were new cadets at West Point. Her big brown eyes had been full of nerves and excitement and eagerness for the challenges ahead. Like every cadet before him, he’d entered West Point with nothing more than his career on his mind.

Bethany had changed that. Success took on more meaning than simple pride in doing a job well for the sake of reaching his goals. She made him want to set and accomplish goals for the good of the team. Meeting her had made him a better person and student from that first day forward, though it hadn’t yet made him good enough for her to keep.

Matt reached up and turned out the light, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind flipped back and forth between the baseball lobbed at General Knudson and the creepy letter sent to Bethany. For both of them to get direct threats in the same twenty-four hour period made him question the motive behind the breach of the personnel records and who was buying the information.

Who would gain from exerting that kind of pressure? And how many other Military personnel and families were suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable tonight?

He read the reports as they came in with cautious optimism and rising confidence. His first warnings had been successfully delivered. Shots over the bow, so to speak, and now he waited to watch their response.

He imagined them scrambling, racing about in circles and jumping at shadows. They would chase the leads he gave them all the way to inevitable dead ends, only to start over on another path of his choosing. Having the world’s best Army dancing to his tune was an excellent feeling.

His plans were finally coming together. Years in the making, he found a delicious irony in using the security breach to his advantage. His team had been handpicked and painstakingly groomed to the tasks ahead. He’d deliberately given them a cause they could understand and support as he moved both key players and pawns into place for his ultimate revenge.

His charisma was a skill his superiors had consistently undervalued. The pompous fools had been unwilling to blur their clear vision and mission parameters to improve the overall morale in a way that would practically guarantee success on any field of battle.

Their loss.

The skills they didn’t value, he would now use to wreak havoc at both the individual and institutional levels. This was going to be phenomenal fun, as well as a just reward for everything they’d taken from him.

He swiveled his chair away from his desk until he could gaze out at the gathering night through the floor-to-ceiling window. At this end of the compound, there wasn’t another person for miles. Not another soul from here to the horizon. He’d earned the solitude, worked alongside the others to carve this quiet, impenetrable place out of the desert.

Now it was merely a matter of time before his first target came out into the open.

Once he had Matt Riley centered in the crosshairs, the first shot in this war would be fired, with brutal, irrevocable accuracy.

Chapter 2

Nervous energy plagued Bethany all through the night. First she couldn’t sleep, and when she’d finally dozed off, her dreams had quickly turned to nightmares. Centered on change and loss and the unknown, it was easy to figure out the trigger. In the last one, she’d been listening to Caleb tell a judge all the reasons he didn’t want to live with her anymore. The judge had been giving his ruling that Caleb should spend the next fifteen years with his dad, denying her all visitation and contact, when her alarm had interrupted.

Eyes gritty, a knot of dread in her stomach, she dragged herself out of bed and tried to remember dreams and nightmares weren’t real as she showered and dressed for work. Matt wanted what was best for Caleb, and he was too honorable to play dirty and steal her son with the aid of family court.

Downstairs, she sipped tea while Caleb scarfed down his breakfast. No matter what she did, she couldn’t quell the notion that this was their last normal day as a family of two. Tonight, when he met his father, he would look at her differently, judge her through the lens of his teenage values and find her lacking. They were close, but suddenly she wasn’t sure their relationship could survive the turmoil ahead.

“You okay, Mom?”

“Sure.” She waved off his concern with a smile. “Didn’t sleep well—that’s all.” That was an understatement bordering on a lie. Clearly every conversation today would be guilt-inducing no matter how unrelated it might be to the revelations in store for Caleb tonight.