.

shape, flowing around her, the happy faces of children she’d come to know and love a little. She wasn’t in the office. Not even in the States. She was back in that dusty village where boys and girls, eyes sparkling with life and energy, would dance and sing and giggle during the team’s visits. One by one those faces withered, the eyes staring into nothing, all that life snuffed out.

      “Major?”

      Grief was an open, festering wound. Her mouth went dry, recalling the dust that coated everything and everyone. Her heart seemed to stall in her chest, aching more with every beat, her ears ringing as they had in the aftermath. Wouldn’t it be nice to curl up and turn her back on the world with all its horrors?

      She yanked herself back to the present before the past dragged her under permanently. “Yes, pardon me.” Slowly she opened her hands, stretching her fingers, which had balled up in defense.

      Bingham hadn’t been their commander on that tour and Grace Ann wasn’t sure what she might or might not know about the incident. When she had control of her voice, she explained, “We regularly conducted wellness visits at the village school. It was a high point in the tour for all of us. Until it was bombed.”

      Legally, DOD supplies could be used to treat locals in cases of blindness, loss of limbs, or life-threatening trauma. On the day of the bombing, she and the team had gone out to conduct routine checkups with the schoolchildren. There hadn’t been any trauma supplies on hand to be used, appropriately or not.

      Someone must have misinterpreted the team’s actions in that crisis. Why pin it all on her? Needing information, she forced herself to ask questions. “Is that the incident being investigated? Who accused me?”

      “The whistleblower’s name is redacted in my report,” Bingham said. “As well as specifics.”

      The name wasn’t important. Grace Ann was confident she’d guessed right. “That has to be it,” Grace Ann murmured to herself. “The school was the biggest, most publicized community outreach effort in our area,” she explained. “I suppose our time there, the improvements we were making, turned the village into an irresistible target for terrorists.”

      “You know better than that,” Bingham said. “It had nothing to do with us. Terrorists habitually go for the jugular in a community. Positive growth isn’t tolerated.”

      Bingham was right, but Grace Ann couldn’t shrug off the weight of blame. She’d come home, debriefed and reestablished a healthy work-life routine. And still when she closed her eyes to sleep, the children who would never grow up were with her.

      “I don’t like this, Major Riley.” The commander glared down at the paper again, closed the folder with a snap. “However, my responsibility is to cooperate for the integrity of the investigation, regardless of how ridiculous it is. To that end, your security clearance has been suspended—”

      “Pardon me?”

      “—and your access to medications and controlled substances is revoked. Due to those status changes, you’ve been removed from the schedule until the investigation runs its course and you’re cleared.”

      “Ma’am?” Grace Ann stared at her commander, dumfounded. The words wouldn’t fall into any sensible order. How would she fill the hours without her work? “I didn’t do anything wrong over there.” Who had she offended so badly that they’d file a false report?

      “I know this comes as a shock,” Bingham continued gently. “Your first call should be to the JAG office. After that, I recommend you take a real vacation. According to your personnel record, you haven’t taken much more than a long weekend since your return from Afghanistan.”

      “There was a week in Key West,” she said absently. She could hardly mention her secret trips with Derek every few months. “We all met down there to celebrate when my parents picked up their boat.”

      Most of the time she filled her days off between short jaunts to the Rileys’ new beach house in North Carolina or rambling through nearby state and national parks with Derek. Surrounding herself with activity was the only way she’d found to mute the agony of that day and keep those vicious memories locked down.

      “Your scattered days here and there aren’t nearly enough downtime to balance how much you give us here, Major Riley,” Bingham said. “Consider the extended time off a silver lining to this frustrating and inconvenient situation.”

      “How long?” She blurted out the question before she had control of herself. “I mean, yes ma’am.”

      Bingham narrowed her gaze. “If you want my opinion, no one who knows you is putting any stock in this. Still, the investigators are obligated to follow through.”

      “Of course.” Transparency and accountability were the catchphrases these days. That logic was no comfort to her while her career deflated like a popped balloon and her heart cowered in her chest.

      “I did try to keep you on the rotation,” Bingham said. “They wouldn’t have it. I anticipate you’ll be cleared and back with us just as soon as the initial interviews are over.”

      Her head pounded. They were conducting interviews already. On a violent incident that had taken place on the other side of the world. She couldn’t think of a single person who would set her up this way or a single witness who might verify this outrageous claim.

      “I’m free to go?” She should feel lucky she wasn’t in handcuffs.

      Bingham nodded in the affirmative. “Major Riley. Grace Ann. You are a trusted, valued member of the Army Nurse Corps. I do not believe there is anything credible in this accusation. Take some time to yourself and let the system sort it out.”

      “Thank you, ma’am.” It meant a great deal to be trusted, to hear that she was valued.

      Unfortunately, the confidence and compliments wouldn’t change the sudden abundance of free time looming in front of her. Hours and hours with no distractions, no work to exhaust her physically or mentally, posed a terrifying and untenable prospect.

      She couldn’t even invite Derek for a quick weekend away. He needed to be here with his brother.

      Guilt and grief tied knots in her belly. She should be the one recuperating from spinal surgery—would have been if the Riley Hunter’s antics hadn’t kept her off that exercise. Now another storm cloud was throwing random lightning bolts into her life, threatening her career. She had no idea who she was without the army, without nursing.

      Derek rubbed his palms together briskly, determined to stay awake. Overtired, now that he had a decent meal in his belly it was hard to keep his eyes open. He could sleep later. With so many things that could, and often did, go wrong in a hospital he was driven to keep watch over Kevin.

      He and his brother held vastly different memories of the days their dad lingered in ICU after the car crash. Kevin had been old enough to understand the concept of serious complications but still young enough that Derek sheltered him as much as possible from the increasingly grim updates.

      Yes, Kevin’s situation was different. Medicine had made huge advancements since they were kids. And unlike their father, Kevin had squeezed his hand once during Derek’s brief visit to the recovery area and periodically roused enough to remind Derek he’d be fine. Now, while Kevin slept, Derek had only his thoughts and the incessant beeping of various monitors for company.

      The television had been more annoyance than diversion. He’d called his office in Baltimore and updated his assistant that Kevin would recover fully, explaining it would be a few weeks yet before he could manage day-to-day tasks on his own. She’d promised to pass the information along as needed and keep him up-to-date on issues at the office. He was in-house counsel for a medical supply company, so there weren’t any pressing cases to juggle.

      Though it was selfish, he wished Grace Ann would come back. Her confidence in Kevin’s