“Interesting that she got into it with them, that she was trying to stay below the radar and fit into their world.”
“They wouldn’t be likely to accept just any stranger off the street. She must have been working an angle for a while to get invited in. Usually they have specific people with specific skills, and some redundancy. Like a SEAL team. Twelve men with expertise redundancies so the group can be broken into two teams of six if necessary, or further split into four teams of three. Electronics, communications, weapons. The survivalists are similar in makeup, only twice the size. So she must have brought something to the table.”
Sam thought back to the memoir. “She was a gardener. She apparently could grow most anything.”
“That’s a useful skill, for sure. Sustainability is vital. It would be interesting to see how she made contact, though.”
“Here, read it.” Sam pulled the memoir from her bag and handed it to Xander. “I was skimming for information, I didn’t really know what to look for.”
There was nothing good in the first folder, nor the second. But the third held a treasure trove—close-ups of weapons, cabins equipped with root cellars, walls lined with lockers and shelves full of dried foods, and a group photograph.
“Ah, here we go.” Sam blew the picture up. There were about twenty-five people in the photo, and each person held either a gun or a tool of some sort, except for a young teenager front and center who held a flag. It was blue and white with an embroidered columbine framed by snowcapped mountains.
Ledbetter, one of the taller people in the camp, was in the back row. Sam was surprised by how many children there were—at least six, by her count.
Xander was staring at the photo.
“Do you see your friend?”
“No, he’s not in this. Must have been taken while he was overseas. Go close up on the girl in the front. She looks familiar.”
Sam dragged her fingers across the photo again, making the girl bigger.
“Who do you think she is?”
“Look at her eyes, the shape of her face. Then look at Ledbetter.”
Sam compared the two, swiping back and forth on the picture. There was a distinct resemblance between the two. The girl was wearing a baseball cap, so it was impossible to see the color of her hair, but her mother’s fiery red tresses stood out. If you imagined them haloing the girl’s face, the likeness was clear. Sam thought back to the photo she’d seen on Facebook but couldn’t make a visual connection.
“Ledbetter has a daughter,” she said. “But she wasn’t mentioned in the book as a member of the group. George told me they were estranged and she inherits everything.”
“Could have been trying to keep her family life private.”
“That’s true.” Sam stared at the photo a few moments longer, then backed out to the main screen and did a search for “Loa.” Multiple folders popped up, and Sam went through several of them. They left no doubt. The girl in the photo was definitely Ledbetter’s daughter.
“Answers that,” Xander said.
“Yeah.” Sam went back to the main screen and another folder caught her eye. Africa. 1990. Ah, that must be where the photo Ledbetter used most prominently, her winning smile as she was surrounded by Maasi tribesmen, resided.
Sam clicked open the folder and started scrolling through the pictures. She was near the bottom when she recognized another face. Her excitement began to build.
“Xander, look at this.”
He set down his coffee and leaned in close. She could smell him, the indefinable scent of man coupled with the lemon soap his mother left in the shower for them and the barely perceptible tang of his sweat. She took a deeper breath, just for the pleasure of it. He smelled good, and she had to check herself from snuggling up against him. Pheromones were a fascinating thing.
As if he sensed her sudden lust, he set his hand on her forearm, making a connection between them. A promise for later.
“What am I looking at?”
“Third man from the right. Sort of angled away from the camera. Is that who I think it is?”
He stared at the photo for a minute. “I think it is. How about that.”
“How about that indeed. Ledbetter and Leighton were in Africa together in 1990.”
*
Sam scrolled through some more pictures, hoping to find a smoking gun, but the one with Leighton in the background was the only photo she could find that proved they were in the same place at the same time. It was a tenuous thread at best, but a thread nonetheless.
She dialed the number of Ledbetter’s office, hoping to catch George. She was in luck, and he came to the phone after just a few moments.
“Dr. Owens. It’s lovely to hear from you. What can I help you with?”
“Hello, George. Do you mind if I put you on speaker? I have someone here who needs to hear our conversation. His name is Xander Whitfield, he’s a former Army sergeant who is familiar with the Blue and Gray.”
“That’s convenient. You’ve been busy.”