If Alex could go back in time and change one thing, he would start with the small plane crash on Stone Wolf Mountain and figure out how to keep his father home that day. And if he had changed that one day and his father had lived, maybe Alex wouldn’t have ended up halfway around the world, watching others who depended on him burn in a fiery explosion.

Though he couldn’t go back and fix the past, he would do everything in his power to right the wrong that had been done to the memorial—an infraction against those who died and the loved ones they left behind.

Too much crashed into him at once. The vandalism at the monument tangled up with the images flashing through his brain from the last three years spent overseas. Especially the last month.

He closed his eyes, only to see violent images burning through his mind.

The armored Suburban in front of him exploded in flames . . .

Steady, now.

He breathed in the scent of evergreens and fresh mountain air. Opened his eyes. He was surrounded by acres and acres of national forest. Montana. He was home, not on the other side of the world. Joyous birdsong sounded around him. If he listened, he could hear the Grayback River flowing nearby.

Yeah. That was better. Peace overcame the pulse pounding in his ears, and he tried to put his assignment protecting a high-risk asset in a high-threat region far behind him. That was over and done. If only he could push it totally out of his mind . . . And he would, because it was necessary. He’d come home to take a much-needed break and solve a mystery. Here at the place where his hero father was memorialized.

And that was just it. As a special agent working for the DSS, Diplomatic Security Services, vandalism wasn’t the typical crime he would investigate. But as the son of a fallen hero, he was more than eager to dig in and get his hands dirty to find out who vandalized the memorial.

The same person who had taken to vandalism at the memorial months ago? Or someone new? Some kid who thought this would be funny? He took in the destruction. The violence. Each plaque was a tribute to those who’d been killed on the mountain while attempting to save the lives of others.

Hands on his hips, he walked the wide circle around the memorial, then returned to his father’s plaque. Voices drifted up the trail. He glanced up in time to see two figures emerging from the trailhead. United States Forest Service Special Agent Terra Connors and her soon-to-be husband, Detective Jack Tanner.

Terra approached with a tenuous smile. “I thought I might find you here.”