Page 40 of Shadow Games

And she was allowed to go in. Rowan picked a stall and parked, smirking at the thought of eight Navy SEALs standing watch outside a women’s room while she did her business. Moving quickly, she found her phone and powered it on, then pulled the logbook from inside her shirt. Flipping quickly, she snapped photos of the pages, reading names as she did so. There were so many names, though, she knew there was no way she was going to remember them all. Most importantly, though, there was no Bradbury listed. A Braddock, but not Bradbury. She photographed the last few pages and made sure they were uploading. This deep in the earth it may take them a while. She flicked the button for WIFI. Maybe they would go that way. Tucking the logbook back into her shirt, she tucked her phone in her bra and finished up. It was only as she was washing her bloodstained hands that she realized what a mess she was. She scrubbed up her arms, gasping as the cold water hit her rugburn. She scrubbed with soap because she wanted to avoid an infection if she could.

There was a noise at the door and she looked up. One of the men had stepped inside to see what was taking her so long.

“Sorry, I realized what a mess I was and had to try to fix some of it.”

He nodded his helmeted head and stepped out again.

Rowan grabbed some of the tri-folded paper towels and wet them down, wiping her face. It was grimy and bloody and gave testament to everything she’d been through that day. She ran her fingers through her hair, but it was a bedraggled mess. Finally, she’d done all she could do and she left the room.

The men guided her back the way they’d come, then down the long hallway. It was weirdly silent. No telephones, no sounds of people chattering behind closed doors. Had they chosen a vacant building to interrogate her? No, there had been a good amount of cars outside in the parking lot.

Finally, they stopped at a door. The lead guy knocked once, then opened it. Inside, there was a beautiful, wood-paneled office, with a massive desk on the far side of the room. There were several tall plants inside, and the light seemed more like daylight than the fluorescent bulbs of the hallway. Rowan stepped inside and looked around, pleasantly surprised. She glanced at the team lead. “Way to build the suspense, guys.”

Someone snorted from the back, and she appreciated the acknowledgement.

A tall, balding man in a blue Naval uniform stepped in from an adjoining door on the other side of the room. “Ah, Mrs. Rockwell.”

Rowan cringed. “I prefer James, my maiden name. Ken and I were almost divorced. But you can call me Rowan.”

The man nodded politely and crossed to shake her hand. “Noted. I’m Admiral Owen Bradbury, Chief Naval Officer.”

Rowan was impressed. This was the man she’d wanted to speak to for the past week, and a giant knot of tension eased in her stomach. He would listen to her, and he would clean up the mess that was SEAL Team Seven.

The Admiral was a kind, but thorough man. He advised Team Two they could step outside, then he asked Rowan if she minded if they brought in a woman to take notes on the meeting. Rowan gave her consent and she settled into the story of her relationship with Ken and the entire sorry thing. The admiral asked her to clarify several things, jotting notes on his own yellow legal pad.

Rowan’s voice went raspy from talking, and he paused the meeting long enough for someone to bring her a bottle of water. She drank it down, then continued. By the time she got to today’s incidents, he was leaning forward on his desk, hand cupping his chin like he was watching the most fascinating movie. He shook his head when she finished.

“This is so hard to believe. You have proof?”

She pulled the tattered logbook out of her sweatshirt. Wyatt’s sweatshirt. For a moment she wondered what was going on with he and Echo. Stepping forward, she handed the book to the admiral, then sank back in her chair. The admiral leafed through the book, stopping occasionally to read down through. He shook his head several times, until he got to the end. He then handed the book to the clerk. “I want that transcribed as best as you can.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman said, and left the room.

Rowan could tell she’d shocked the man. He was probably used to life and death situations every day, but he didn’t hear about invasive rot in his own teams very often.

“And Mr. Thorn will corroborate all this?”

“What he can, yes.”

The admiral’s phone rang, and he picked up the handset, speaking in low tones. Rowan wondered if she’d forgotten anything. There was so much information to disseminate.

“What do you mean he won’t leave?”

Rowan turned back to the admiral. His gaze flicked to her. “Fine. Wait for further orders.”

The admiral rocked back in his chair. “I sent a team to pick up Mr. Thorn, and he’s refusing to leave.”

Rowan wondered about that. “Echo has been the only companionship he’s had on that mountain since he was kicked out of the SEALs. He’s not going to leave her. The only way he will leave her is if you shoot him.”

The man smiled grimly. “That’s about what he said. Okay, we’ll have to postpone his debrief until his partner is stable. As long as he corroborates everything you said, there are going to be some big changes coming in the Navy.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, losing some of his formality. “I want to thank you, Rowan. You’ve carried a heavy load the past couple of years it sounds like, and I will do my best to justify your fight in coming to me.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head, her throat too tight to speak. Bradbury circled the desk, bringing her a tissue, and she blotted at her eyes. The emotion of the day was getting to her, and she needed to let it out somehow. “Thank you, sir,” she said finally. “Now, do you think my bodyguards can take me to Wyatt? I need to check on him.”

The admiral nodded and called the SEAL team leader in. Bradbury told him where she needed to go, and they left. Rowan walked automatically, letting the team guide her through the building and to the cars.

13

Tears started in Wyatt’s eyes as Rowan walked into the waiting room at the Wolf Creek emergency vet, but he forced them back. He opened his arms and she walked into them, squeezing him tight. They stood like that for almost a minute, and he appreciated her being there. He’d hoped she would come, but he knew she had to be debriefed, more urgently than he did. It was why he’d fought the squadron that had come to escort him out. There was no way he was leaving until he knew how Echo was.

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