Mac couldn’t have done it either, Hannah thought, but she kept her mouth closed.

“Hannah would have figured something out,” Grant said.

But their father didn’t respond. There was no arguing with the Colonel.

“You could have called for help. A rescue team would have come and gotten you.” Anger colored Brody’s statement.

Hannah shrugged. “None of us even thought about it. We were taught to take action, and we did. We handled it fine. Dad trained us to operate as a team. I guess he did a good job of it.”

“No offense, but your father sounds a little psycho,” Brody said.

“No offense taken.” The memory used to make her angry, but now that Lee was gone, it just depressed her. “I pushed him to include me on all those survival training weekends. But that was the only time he spent with any of us, teaching us to be good little rangers. He was supposed to be a general. He wasn’t cut out to be a father. Looking back on it now, I realize how crazy it all was.”

“What about your mother?”

“She was the one who held the family together. A strong woman, but very traditional. She stayed home while we played in the woods. I don’t think she had any idea what the trips were actually like.” Pain wrapped around Hannah’s heart. “She was diagnosed with stage four cancer during my freshman year of college. She faded quickly. I took the second semester off to nurse her through hospice. She was gone before summer.”

“I’m sorry.” Brody’s voice grated with empathy.

“The four of us kids were close, growing up. We stuck together like a troop. But after Mom died, the Colonel fell apart. Her death fractured our family. Grant’s career was advancing. I went back to school. Mac ran with a bad crowd. Lee did his best to be the family touchstone, but the rest of us wouldn’t cooperate.” Guilt sandbagged Hannah. She and Grant and Mac could have tried harder. “What about your family? Grant said you were in the military?”

“Just four years to pay for college. I appreciated the training, but the army wasn’t for me,” Brody said. “I came home, joined the Boston PD, got married.”

Hold on. “You were married?”

“Not for very long.” His fingers opened and closed on the steering wheel, as if he’d been holding it too tightly. “A few years into my career in Boston, I was involved in a shooting at a convenience store. It was all clean and justified, but I had some . . . issues relating to the incident.”

“Post-traumatic stress?”

Brody hesitated. “That, and my partner froze, putting me in a very bad situation.”

“No.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He nodded. “I was shot in the chest. I was wearing a vest, so I wasn’t hurt, but it’s hard to walk into dangerous situations with no confidence in your partner.”