“According to your file, you came home from a mission to find your wife and daughter missing. What makes you think this isn’t a parental kidnapping?”
I adjust awkwardly in my chair and try to rein in my temper. Ever since my return the littlest things set me off and I often find myself blowing up. I know, deep down, these are questions that have to be asked, but I hate them nonetheless. I also know my story is unbelievable, especially considering the lack of media attention surrounding it. It was only after Senator Lawson and Admiral Ingram were arrested, that the team became primetime news, but the story never went national. As far as the team was concerned, it was too late to make up for the lack of coverage when we all came home. What made it all worse was the one man who tried to bring attention to our return was found dead. Someone has been making sure this story stays buried.
“I’m a SEAL, stationed out of Coronado. My Team was deployed, and when I came home, she was gone. Not just gone, someone else was living in our house.” I keep the amount of years I’ve been away to myself, knowing that as soon as I tell her it’s been six years there will be skepticism in Marley’s features and I’m so tired of seeing it.
“It’s common for wives of servicemen to leave once their husbands deploy. I’ve seen it before.”
I shake my head. “Ma’am, have you heard about the four SEALs that returned after a six-year mission?”
Marley shakes her head, but leans forward, acting interested in my story. “Of course you haven’t.” I sigh and clear my throat. “My team …” Even though I’ve told this story two other times, it doesn’t get any easier. No one believes me and the burden of proof falls on me. “Six years ago we were deployed and four months in, our families were told we were killed in action. Six months ago, we returned home.”
Marley’s mouth drops open, hanging there for a moment. She sits back in her chair, with her pen between her fingers, tapping it on her pad of paper.
“Let me get this straight,” she says, leaning forward in her chair. “Four Navy SEALs went on a mission, something I’m sure you do more often than I know, and your families were told you were dead only for you to come home six years later?”
I blanch at her words, but nod. The way she says it makes me think she’s pitching the next Tom Clancy movie.
“What were you doing for six years?”
“Hunting,” I reply, getting right to the point. I’m not willing to elaborate, either. Regardless of how I feel, I’m a SEAL through and through, and no one is going to get classified information out of me.
“Hunting. Right …” Trailing off, Marley looks as if she’s pondering whether I’m telling the truth. “So you came home and your wife was gone?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And that’s it?”
I shrug. It’s my new automatic response to the repeated same question. “Everything I’ve been told, which has all been the same, is she left right after we were buried, yet I don’t know if I can trust the source. But she did so without saying good-bye to everyone.” I leave out any information about Frannie Riveria being my source and her involvement because that’s for me, and right now I’m not convinced Frannie has anything do with Penny and Claire disappearing. If she does … well, that just makes the bullet I plan to put between her eyes even sweeter. I don’t care if River was our team’s leader; his wife is a traitor and is responsible for everything that has happened to them. She’ll pay.
“Have you checked in her hometown?”
My blood starts to boil and I want to ask if Marley is stupid, but I bite my tongue. “Her father died when she was younger and I never met her mother. Penny and I met in a bar. She was in San Diego on vacation. To say we hit it off would be an understatement. When she left I thought I wouldn’t see her again, but she proved me wrong immediately. As soon as she made it to her first layover, she turned right around and came back to California. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, but had no idea she felt the same way until she came back. We married quickly because there wasn’t a reason to wait. Penny told me she was pregnant a few months into our marriage and our daughter, Claire, was born. She’s nine-years old.”
“This may be a sensitive question, but is Claire yours?”
I smile at the thought of my daughter and reach into my back pocket to pull out my wallet. I take out the last picture I received from Penny, well Frannie, and its Claire’s second grade photo. Marley isn’t the first person to ask if Claire is mine, but all it takes is for the person asking to take a look at Claire and see she looks just like me. Placing the photo on Marley’s desk, I slide it toward her.
“Well that answers my question,” Marley says, nodding.
Taking the photo back I look at Claire and silently tell her that I’m coming for her.