The first leg of my flight was to Dubai. I was stunned at the differences in airports. Dubai was clean, well organized, and air-conditioned. They even had showers in the bathrooms. I ate an honest-to-God burger at a chain restaurant then took a shower. I felt like a new man when I found my seat on the giant Boeing 757.

I looked at all the movie selections and picked a few for the sixteen-hour flight. Then I dozed off. Something jolted me awake later and I realized it was the plane touching down at Kennedy. I guess I was more exhausted than I realized.

At the airport, I splurged on a rental car. When I threw my duffel bag in the backseat, I decided to dig through it for my personal iPhone. I hadn’t even pulled out of the parking spot when I looked down at the screen and saw there were forty-two messages.

The first message was from Alicia, as were most of the others. Her message said, “I couldn’t reach you on the phone you called me from. Are you safe? Where are you? I can’t wait till you get home and I can see you again.”

I had to sit in the car, grinning like a hockey player with all of his teeth. Then I dialed her number from my phone. My heart soared when I heard her breathless answer. “Mitchum, please tell me you’re back in the US.”

My biggest fears were of bad cell service.

Chapter 51

Chapter 51

After a terrific reunion with Alicia, my mom, and brother, life quickly settled into a comfortable routine. I had to come to terms with the fact that my paper delivery service was all but dead. I enrolled in several business classes at Dutchess Community College on the other side of the Hudson. I also started a class with a private company on basic investigations. It would all work toward my official license as a private investigator one day.

Three days after I got home, I sat quietly with Bart Simpson, watching our favorite show: Rick and Morty. I was especially happy to be sitting in a room with no fear of missiles falling on me.

I’d had a couple of nightmares and worried about my captivity consuming me. I couldn’t remember the last time I focused on my feelings so much.

Yesterday, I got a call from Cheryl Kravitz, the Department of Homeland Security agent who gave me the idea to travel to Afghanistan in the first place. I appreciated her following up with me. I thought she was happy she didn’t have to write up any warrants. She could never admit she was glad Jackson was dead, but I thought she felt about the way I did. And I knew I could use the other information she gave me.