“For God’s sake,” she says, “don’t do this.”

CHAPTER 33

SPECIAL AGENT Rosaria Vasquez is sitting on a hard plastic chair in the main terminal at Nashville Airport when she makes the call. The terminal is wide and airy, looking like the set of a fifty-year-old science-fiction movie promising a sweet and peaceful future with lots of white plastic and exposed concrete. Surprise of surprises, her call goes right through, and a brisk voice says, “Major Wenner speaking.”

“Major, this is Special Agent Vasquez calling. How are you, sir?”

His voice goes down a notch. “All right, I suppose, Agent Vasquez.”

“Outstanding, sir,” she says. “I’m conducting a bit of a follow-up from yesterday, sir.”

“Yes?”

She shifts her weight on the hard plastic. “Well, sir, I’m just checking on something I thought Colonel Denton said yesterday. About Captain Cornwall. If you may recall. Sir.”

“And what’s that?”

“Well, if I recall correctly,” she says, while thinking, Got you, you squirrelly bastard, “just before I left yesterday afternoon, your colonel told me that you’d be giving me an update today on Captain Cornwall’s health. Am I correct, sir?”

The guy’s good, for he quickly says, “Yes, you’re absolutely correct, Special Agent, and I’m sorry I’ve not gotten back to you today. We had a visit from the SecDef to the base this morning, and I’ve just been buried.”

“Sir, do you consider yourself unburied now?”

A cold pause. “I don’t think I appreciate that question, Special Agent.”

“Sorry, sir, I meant no disrespect.” As if, she thinks. “Right now I’m in the beginning stages of a very important investigation involving the death of a civilian in Army custody in Afghanistan, under the command of Captain Cornwall. Is she still ill?”

“I…believe so.”

“Sir?”

The cold voice changes its tone. “Special Agent, she’s not reported to work, and it appears she’s not at home.”

“Do you know where she is, sir?”

“No, I don’t.”

Out in the terminal lobby two soldiers in ACUs stride by, coming from one of the four concourses, carrying knapsacks and wearing tan boots, and Rosaria feels a stir, looking at the strong young men. Her brothers. Her family. She doesn’t know their names but doesn’t have to. They are still family.

“Sir,” she says. “Right now, with Captain Cornwall’s absence, I don’t have much to go on. Can you think of any officer at your base who might be able to give me insight into her and her service in Afghanistan?”

“Well, I, uh, I did serve with the captain for a while in the ’stan.”

“Major, no disrespect, but I’m looking for someone of her rank or lower. Sir.”

Another pause. “No names readily come to mind.”

Rosaria watches the two soldiers walk up to a group of civilians, who start applauding and cheering as they approach. The civilians are holding balloons and handmade signs with bright markings.

She says, “Major, as previously noted, this investigation is in its preliminary stages here in the states, but I have no doubt how this case goes will get lots of attention, both within the Army and without, as we proceed. Do you understand what I’m saying, sir?”