out in Seattle, Washington.
After stuffing the papers back into the envelope, Frankie secured the tie, suddenly uncertain. Was it safer to leave the evidence here or take it with her?
John had given her one key. Typically, safe-deposit boxes were issued with two. He’d told her that his visit, brief and cryptic as it was, put her at risk. She hadn’t done anything to hide her travel plans, so if someone were watching, whoever it was could easily conclude she’d been here. She decided to take everything and create a new hiding place.
John must have gathered the legal and personal items on her dad’s orders. Frank would’ve known his daughter would never buy in to the treason charges. He wanted her to clear his name—Frankie felt it like a flame deep in her heart. If he believed in her to do that, why kill himself?
Confused and hurt, she couldn’t quite see the next step beyond leaving Arizona. Her gut instinct was to fly out to Seattle and confront her mother. Just the thought had Frankie braced for a battle. Showing up in a fit of anger wouldn’t help. Her mom was far too composed, too deft at sliding around the truth for a direct attack.
There was no way Frankie could do this until she calmed down, planned it out. She needed to go through the flash drive and it would be smart to get a second opinion on the documents, just in case John was playing her.
She thought about the dog tags and the West Point ring as she rubbed her knuckles across the scars and tight muscles at her back. If that was the case, she had to give him points for knowing his target.
“Think, Frankie.” There were always options. Her military training had changed her way of thinking. As a SEAL she’d embraced the clever and creative strategies required for a small force to succeed when outnumbered by a larger, better equipped opponent.
She smiled as she made her decision. It was time to visit another friend of her father’s. A friend, unlike John, she could be sure of, based on her personal experience. After the safe-deposit box went back into the vault, she booked herself on the next available flight to Chicago.
Victoria Colby-Camp could help her.
Chicago, 5:30 p.m.
Frankie had fond memories of visiting with “Aunt Victoria,” though it was an honorary title. Somewhere in a box she had yet to unpack in Savannah, there was a framed photo of her with Victoria at a Fourth of July barbecue. When news of her father’s suicide flooded the media, Victoria had been one of the few people who’d sent her a sympathy card.
The evidence of her mother’s betrayal burned through her system as Frankie sat in Victoria’s reception area. She wanted advice on how to proceed. Sophia couldn’t be allowed to get away with this.
Frankie shifted in the chair. It was a nice enough piece of furniture, for someone who hadn’t spent too many hours on airplanes recently. She needed to take a break to stretch and let her back recover, but she had no time to waste. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t change the simple fact that she wouldn’t rest easy until this was over.
The receptionist stationed outside Victoria’s office directed Frankie to the coffee service, and she had barely declined when Victoria opened her office door. Frankie smiled. The woman still looked as regal as she remembered. Though her dark hair was now streaked with gray, Victoria remained beautiful.
“Frankie, what a pleasure to see you again.” She crossed the room and gave her a warm hug. “It’s been far too long. How are you feeling?”
“Fit as ever, though the navy docs didn’t clear me for active duty.”
“That’s frustrating,” Victoria said, guiding her into the office and closing the door behind them. “Have a seat and tell me how things are going. I hear you joined the Savannah Police Department.”
Frankie smiled. “As an analyst,” she replied, though she was sure Victoria knew that, as well. It would’ve been more surprising if Victoria hadn’t checked into her background. “It’s good work and I enjoy it.”
“But not as exciting as your previous career.”
“Few things are,” Frankie agreed.
“Your message sounded quite urgent,” Victoria said, concern in her eyes.
“It is. Thanks for seeing me.”
Frankie had rehearsed the talking points on the flight and refined them in the cab. Now her stomach clenched. Maybe she should’ve taken more time to review the flash drive first. No, the statement alone was damaging enough to enlist Victoria’s opinion and guidance. “I need some advice,” she began.
Just start at the beginning and walk through it step by step, she coached herself. She was more convinced than ever that her mother had been part of the plan to railroad her father. What baffled her was why. And rushing straight to that conclusion without the backstory would get her nowhere. Victoria was her last chance.
“I’m glad you came to me,” the older woman said, her voice soothing.
“You knew my parents well?”
She nodded. “I knew them both, long before they married.”
“Did you follow their careers?”
“Not particularly. Mainly what they shared in Christmas cards or when your father made the news.” Victoria reached for her cup of coffee. “For his successes.”
Frankie rubbed her palms on her jeans, wishing she’d worn the one dress she’d packed for this trip. Her soft green sweater set felt too casual next to Victoria’s polished style, and Frankie felt absolutely outclassed by the elegantly furnished office. Everything screamed experience and expertise. Which was why she was here. “I don’t know who else to turn to,” she admitted. “I found evidence that my mother lied to me about my father’s case, and probably several other things, as well,” she added, thinking of the passports.
Victoria set her coffee aside. “What sort of evidence?”
Frankie pulled the statement from the envelope in her backpack. Handing it over, she explained, “Sophia had a choice and she willingly contributed to his guilty verdict.”
“Sophia?” Victoria echoed with an arching eyebrow. She studied Frankie over the top of the document. “You actually believe that.”
“I’ve suspected it for some time,” Frankie replied. “You’re holding the proof.”
Victoria picked up a pair of glasses and set them in place to read the statement. When she finished, she placed the papers gingerly on her desktop, as though they might explode. “How did you get this?”
“A friend of Dad’s came to see me. He gave me a key to a safe-deposit box and warned me the contents could be dangerous. That document was one of several items inside.”
“Go on.”
“False passports with Sophia’s picture, a flash drive with more information that connects her to my father’s death, and other personal items from Dad.”
“Did you recognize this friend?”
“No,” Frankie admitted. She pulled out her phone and brought up the pictures she’d taken at the diner. “Do you? He told me he was close to my parents.”
Victoria adjusted her glasses and carefully examined each photo. “I’ve never seen him. You should speak with your mother and verify your source and the accuracy of this statement.”
“I have.” Frankie swallowed her impatience. “Well, I haven’t asked her about this man, but we’ve talked about Dad. Argued really. Her answers weren’t clear or helpful. Or even honest, in light of all this.”
“Frankie. You’ve been part of covert operations. It’s a world of smoke