Safe And Sound. J.D. Rhoades

family connections. Riggio’s parents were both dead, and Powell’s were divorced. His psych profile said he wasn’t close to either of them. Didn’t say why.”

      “They were the only family each other had,” Keller said.

      “Yeah. Some guys, the Army becomes their family, you know?”

      “Yeah,” Keller said. “I know.”

      He remembered faces, looking at him in the dim glow of a chemlite, huddled close in the confines of a Bradley fighting vehicle. Looking to him to get them home.

      “Where we at, Sergeant?” a voice spoke up. It was Michaels, the guy from Louisiana they had nicknamed “Forty Mike” because of his talent with the 40mm grenade launcher. Michaels could drop a grenade within an inch of anywhere you cared to point out.

      “Dunno, Forty,” Keller had said. “The GPS is deader’n shit. I’m going outside to take a piss and look around. Maybe get a fix on the stars.” The answer seemed to satisfy them. They slumped back in the web seats. Some of them pulled their helmets down over their eyes to sleep. In truth, Keller could no more navigate by the stars here than he could sprout wings and fly. But he had to say something. They trusted him.

      He exited the vehicle through the rear hatch and stretched. He walked a few feet away, unzipped, and took a piss on the desert. When he was done, he heard the sound of rotor blades. It had to be one of the good guys. The bad guys no longer had an air force to speak of. He raised his hands and started waving. It was a stupid gesture in the dark, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

      “Hey!” he yelled. “Hey—”

      A Hellfire missile homes in on a laser beam focused on a target from a ground observer or from the launching aircraft itself. It is primarily intended to pierce the heavy armor of a main battle tank. Against a lightly armored target like a Bradley, the effect is devastating. Keller saw the trail of the missile’s rocket motor like a bolt of white light from the sky. It touched the Bradley and the world seemed to explode. Keller was knocked to the ground by the blast. Then he heard the screaming as the Bradley caught fire.

      “You okay, Keller?” Wilcox was saying.

      Keller shook his head to clear it. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay.”

      “You don’t look it,” Wilcox said. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

      “I’m fine,” Keller said.

      Wilcox’s cell phone rang. He continued to regard Keller with a doubtful expression as he pulled it out. “Wilcox,” he said. Then the blood seemed to drain from his face. “When?” he snapped. “How long had he…okay. I’ll be there. Don’t do anything…Damn it!” The person on the other end had obviously hung up the phone. He snapped the cell phone shut and looked at Keller.

      “The Hoke County Sheriff’s Department just found David Lundgren’s body in Drowning Creek,” he said.

      “The little girl?” Keller asked.

      Wilcox shook his head. “No sign of her.” He stood up. “You’d better come with me, Mr. Keller,” he said. “I’ll need to ask you some questions on a more official basis. And your girlfriend.”

      “Wait a minute,” Keller said. “I thought we had an understanding.”

      “We did,” Wilcox said. “But that was before this became a murder investigation. And the terrorist angle is looking a lot more plausible.” He paused. “It looks like Lundgren was tortured before he was shot.”