It was like hearing “And they lived happily ever after” or “the wicked witch is dead.” Unimaginable. Unreal. Unbelievable.
He wasn’t the only one in shock. The instructor might as well have hollered, “Freeze.” Then, everyone reacted at once, whoops and high fives and hugs. Brown T-shirts that signified graduation of a sort were passed out. Bennett and Noah stared at each other. A grin spread over Noah’s face, cracking the already-drying mud. Another man slapped Noah on the back, and he doubled over with a groan.
“Come on, let’s get you to Medical,” Bennett said.
They limped along and Bennett left Noah with the medic after assurances his shoulder wouldn’t get him kicked out of BUD/S. Bennett’s ankle was throbbing, but the swelling went down after icing.
Bennett collapsed in his bed, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the feeling of being sand-free with endless peaceful hours ahead of him. Except for Hollis’s snoring. Both Hollis and Carter had made it through Hell Week, too. Bennett’s body was exhausted, but his mind whirred.
How close had he come to sacrificing his dream of becoming a SEAL to help Noah? Scenarios scrolled rapid fire through his head, each one involving Bennett quitting or getting cut.
“Hey, Bennett, you still awake?” Noah’s voice was soft.
“Yeah, man.”
“Thanks for today. Not sure if I would have made it without you. Glad I’m not headed home right now.”
Bennett’s thoughts calmed. He hadn’t quit. And neither had Noah. Bennett was glad he hadn’t lost his friend. “I’m glad, too,” he whispered before turning over and falling into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 5
Present Day
Harper sat behind the wheel of her car in the parking lot of Caldwell Survival School. It was Tuesday and not even lunchtime. Two other vehicles were there. A black truck with mud tires and a Jeep. The building was a rustic log cabin with a wraparound porch. Good branding for his line of business. As was the location, outside of Virginia Beach proper with expansive views into the distance.
She’d found the certificate Bennett Caldwell had given her with the money and had been surprised not to find something misspelled. It wasn’t even a good fake. How had she just accepted him at his word? Her thoughts churned in circles, gnawing at the possible reasons this man, with the same name as her son, for God’s sake, had shown up on her doorstep with a huge check.
Righteous anger had fueled her since uncovering the deception, but now that she was here, a tingle went down her back. Her mom would have said someone had traipsed over her grave. Harper was too logical for such nonsense, but the feeling of being on the cusp of change filled her with trepidation. There was still time to turn around and go home.
But the questions she hadn’t been able to formulate in her shock after Noah’s death might finally be answered. Questions she’d never get answered through official channels. And the money. She was honor bound to return it. Knowing she would no longer be able to put her fuzzy business plan into motion soured her mood further.
After a half-dozen pep talks, she gave herself one last bolstering look in the rearview mirror and unlatched her door. A chilly wind flung it wide, and she took a deep breath. The gray skies portended rain and the air was salt tinged even this far inland. A storm fit her mood.
Yet she was entering enemy territory and needed to proceed with more caution than she was feeling at the moment. When her emotions ran hot she could be counted on to say something she would regret.
The wind helped dampen her anger. She hesitated at the Closed sign in the window. An unexpected roadblock. The shade was up, the lights were on, and the door was unlocked. Gathering her gumption, she took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold as if it were booby-trapped.
A chime sounded and made her start, but no one was there to greet her. The interior of the building was stocked with survival and outdoor gear for sale. The nearest rack held all-weather coats in different colors, and backpacks hung from hooks along the wall.
The smell of cedar wafted through the store, reminding Harper of the old trunk her mom kept at the foot of her bed filled with winter quilts. Harper had fallen asleep wrapped in the scent since she was a child. The memories of comfort were ill placed alongside her nerves.
A huge animal sat up next to the door, and she gave a breathy, “Dear Lord,” before she recognized it wasn’t a small bear but an enormous dog. Its fur was an unrelenting black and so thick, she couldn’t guess how much the dog actually weighed. It could be anywhere from 80 to 180 pounds.
The dog gave one deep, chesty woof but didn’t make any threatening growls or movements. Footsteps sounded above her head, each one growing the tension across her shoulders. The dog trotted toward a set of stairs she hadn’t noticed in the corner, its plumed tail wagging like a wind-up toy.
The clomp grew louder. First boots, then jeans-clad legs appeared on the stairs, followed by the bottom of a plaid shirt. The man reached the bottom and swept his gaze over the room, finally landing it on her.
He rubbed the dog’s head, never taking his eyes off Harper, and moved closer. A familiar upright confidence common in military men, especially SEALs, marked his movements, but his hair and beard were distinctly non–military issue.
A mixture of browns, his hair was thick, with a natural wave, and brushed his collar. Wiry gray broke up the darkness of his beard. His features were stamped with a distinct masculinity and grimness that Noah had never acquired even through his deployments.
There was something else she noticed in his expression—a lack of recognition. Anger and relief battled, but relief won. It was like drawing the Get Out of Jail Free card. A reprieve.
Even though the enormous dog stayed at his side, Harper recognized which one of them was the true threat. She’d go a round with the dog over the man any day.
Instead of jumping straight to the accusations she’d practiced on the drive from Fort Bragg to Virginia Beach, she tempered her anger with charm. A direct assault would never gain her victory. “That’s a big dog you’ve got there. Thought it was a bear at first.”
The hand he was using to stroke the dog’s head stilled. Her smile froze. If she could kick her own butt, she would. Why had she mentioned bears, considering his nickname was Grizzly?
He scratched the dog behind the ears, and it rose even higher on its paws, its eyes drooping in pleasure. “Mostly Newfoundland, I figure. No reason to worry, though, he’s a gentle giant. Good with the customers. Plus, he earns his keep. Helps on trips to calm skittish people, provide warmth, scare off predators. That sort of thing.”
“Interesting.” A lull stretched and provided an opportunity, but instead she bought more time, or perhaps more accurately, she chickened out. “What’s his name?”
“Jack London.”
A puff of laughter escaped. “I love it. Seems appropriate for his line of work.”
“Not many people read London nowadays unless it was required.”
“My mother was a librarian, so I read everything. In fact—” She clamped her mouth shut. She’d been getting ready to reveal her namesake, which would have given her away for sure. Knowing the shift was abrupt, she said, “Speaking of trips, I’m interested in your programs.”
“We’re actually closed today.” His expression was a pleasant enough mask, but hardly friendly.
“Oh, well, the door was unlocked.” She thumbed over her shoulder and tried on her sweetest smile, which her mom had likened to tart lemonade. “Since I’m here, do you mind? Not sure when I’ll make it back into town.”