“Sure thing.”

Monroe walked away to fetch his coffee, and she laid the paper napkin over her lap, then bowed her head. God, thank You for getting us here, for Ozzy and Bill surviving until now. Touch their bodies with Your healing power. And, God, help me navigate around Captain Norton in a way that keeps me from saying things that hurt him, because I like him. Thank You for this food. Amen.

While she ate, she thought about Ozzy’s leg, inadvertently flinching as she remembered the sound of the bone saw. If they hadn’t taken the leg, the infection would have continued spreading until he died. They didn’t make antibiotics strong enough to fight it back. Intellectually, she knew that. Emotionally, she wished she could have effected a different outcome.

Then to take it out on the man who bore the responsibility for all the soldiers under him! Only exhaustion and a punchiness born of coming out of a draining, harrowing experience that included a man pressing a gun against her temple, witnessing men die violent deaths up close, a chase through the jungle, bad guys shooting at the helicopter she’d escaped in—only those would make her lash out and intentionally try to goad Rick.

Shame burned in her chest and caused a bitter taste in her mouth that overpowered the pancakes. Why couldn’t she just let him do what he did and leave him alone about it? It didn’t affect her anymore. Maybe it felt better to push the blame off her shoulders and onto his. If so, what did that make her?

Exhausted.

To top it all off, she had to go speak to her father, the recently appointed vice president of the United States of America, in this exhausted state. Again she wondered why he had come.

Special Agent Monroe returned bearing a cup of black coffee and sat down across from her. He made no attempt at small talk, which didn’t surprise her. Cynthia was his detail, not his guest or his friend.

After finding where to drop her tray, she followed Monroe up to the sixth floor. A Secret Service agent met them at the elevator landing. “Hello, Doctor Myers. I’m Special Agent Newel.”

Cynthia’s response came out unintentionally abrupt. “I was told my father wanted to see me.”

Clearly unruffled, Special Agent Newel gestured and said, “Right this way, ma’am.” She led Cynthia through a corridor and swiped a security badge to scan them into the next section of the floor, then took her to an office. She tapped on the door twice before opening it and stepping aside so that Cynthia could enter in front of her.