“You want a little breakfast? How about breakfast in bed this morning? I'm buying,” I said.

She sighed. “I think I'll just sleep in a little longer, Alex. You mind? Can you get the kids ready for school?”

“Sure. Are you positive you're okay?”

“I'll see you later. I'm fine. Just a little tired this morning. Get the children up, Alex.” Rosie was trying to get in bed with Nana, but she wasn't having any of it. “Scat, cat,” she whispered.

I got the three kids up, or so I thought, but then I had to rouse Jannie and Damon a second time. I put out their favorite cereals, some fruit, and then I made scrambled eggs overdoing it a little to compensate for Nana's not being there. I warmed Alex's milk then fixed his breakfast and spoon-fed it to him.

The kids marched off to school and I cleaned up after they were gone. I changed Alex's diapers for the second time that morning, and put him in a fresh onesie covered with fire trucks. He was liking this extra attention, seemed to think it was funny.

“Don't get used to this, little buddy,” I told him.

I checked on Nana, and she was still resting. She was fast asleep, actually. I listened to her breathing for a couple of minutes. She seemed all right.

Her bedroom was so peaceful, but not old lady rosy.

There was a fuzzy, very colorful orange and purple rug at the foot of the bed. She said it gave her happy feet.

I took little Alex upstairs to my room, where I hoped to get some work done that morning. I called a friend at the Pentagon. His name's Kevin Cassidy. We had worked a murder case together a few years back.

I told him about the situation at Fort Bragg, and how little time Sergeant Cooper had on death row. Kevin listened, then cautioned me to be extremely careful. “There are a lot of good folks in the Army, Alex. Good people, well intentioned, honorable as hell. But we like to clean up our own mess. Outsiders aren't usually welcome. You hear what I'm saying?”

“Ellis Cooper didn't commit those murders,” I told him. “I'm almost certain of it. But I'll take your advice to heart. We're running out of time, Kevin.”

“I'll check into it for you,” he said. “Let me do it, Alex.”

After I got off the phone with the Pentagon, I called Ron Burns at the FBI. I told him about the developing situation at Fort Bragg. The director and I had gotten fairly close during the troubles with Kyle Craig. Craig was a former senior agent I'd helped put away. I still didn't know exactly how many murders he had committed but it was at least eleven, probably much more than that. Burns and I had believed Kyle was our friend. It was the worst betrayal in my lifetime, but not the only one.

Burns wanted to get me over to the Bureau and I was thinking about it.