“What?”
“Take the envelope from my inside jacket pocket.”
His hand shook when he reached.
Not much.
Enough.
He pulled it free.
The paper was cream-colored, ordinary, harmless-looking.
His eyes dropped to the return address.
Then to the name printed across the front.
His own name.
Corporal Mason Daniel Reed.
His face drained.
“This was mailed to Dad,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Why is my name on it?”
“Because someone wanted him scared enough to call you.”
The knocking became pounding.
“Open the door!”
Maddox positioned the younger Marines behind overturned tables.
Not ideal cover.
Better than standing.
I took the envelope from Mason, tore it open, and pulled out the contents I had not let myself read in Dad’s house.
One photograph.
One folded page.
One small black memory card taped to the bottom.
The photograph showed Mason in uniform outside a base gym.
Telephoto angle.
Recent.
Very recent.
