She stood near the entrance with her purse tucked beneath her arm and said:

“I obviously didn’t know.”

I waited.

That was apparently the entire apology.

“Didn’t know what?” I asked.

She blinked.

“About your career.”

“You didn’t know anything about my career.”

Ethan stepped between us.

“Can we please do this at home?”

I looked at him.

“Yes.”

Patricia seemed relieved.

She shouldn’t have been.

I drove separately.

Ethan called twice while I was on the road. I didn’t answer.

When I reached our house, I went directly to the small office at the back.

The white card was still in my hand.

I locked the door.

Then I called the number.

A woman answered after one ring.

“Name?”

“Grace Mercer.”

Silence.

Keyboard clicks.

“Authentication phrase?”

I hadn’t used it in seven years.

I still remembered.

“October rain falls sideways.”

Another pause.

“Stand by.”

The line clicked.

A man’s voice came on.

“Grace.”

I knew that voice too.

Daniel Ross had been the supervisory agent assigned to Red Cedar.

I sat down.

“Why am I speaking to you?”

“Because we found a document.”

“What document?”

“An authorization connected to Red Cedar.”

The front door opened downstairs.

Ethan.

I heard his keys land in the ceramic bowl beside the door.

Ross continued.

“It carries your signature.”

“So?”

“It was signed eleven months after the operation.”

I stopped moving.

Eleven months after Red Cedar, I had been living under a protected identity in Virginia.

I had signed nothing.

“Send it.”

“Grace—”

“Send it.”

My old secure email account still existed.

I hadn’t known that.

Thirty seconds later, a PDF appeared.

I opened it.

There was my name.

Grace E. Mercer.

Below it was my signature.

It looked right.

Almost.

I enlarged the page.

My real signature had a small break between the G and the rest of my first name. It came from an old habit I’d developed in college.

This one didn’t.

I took a screenshot.

Then another.

Footsteps approached the office.

Ethan tried the handle.

“Grace?”

I didn’t answer.

“Open the door.”

I stared at the document.

A second name appeared near the bottom.

Not Ethan’s.

But familiar.

Colonel Richard Walker.

Ethan’s father.

My mouth went dry.

Ethan knocked again.

“Grace, we need to talk.”

I closed the laptop halfway.

Then I unlocked the door.

He entered immediately.

He had removed his jacket but was still wearing his uniform trousers and white shirt.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Daniel Ross.”

His expression changed.

Small.

But visible.

I watched his hand stop beside his belt.

“You know that name.”

“You’ve mentioned him.”

“No, I haven’t.”

He looked toward the desk.

I stepped between him and the laptop.

“How much did you know about me before we met?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“An easy one.”

He rubbed his forehead.

“Grace, tonight has been insane.”

“How much?”

“I knew you’d worked for the government.”

“Before or after we met?”

He didn’t answer.

That was the answer.

I reached behind me and closed the laptop completely.

“Before?”

Ethan looked at the floor.

“It wasn’t what you think.”

I picked up my phone.

“Then explain it.”

He sat down.

I remained standing.

“My father knew your name.”

I said nothing.

“He told me you’d been involved in an operation connected to one of his old assignments.”

“When?”

“Before our first date.”

The room became very quiet.

I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.

“Our first date wasn’t accidental?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then say what happened.”

He looked up.

“My father suggested I introduce myself.”

I stared at him.

Four years of marriage.

Christmas mornings.

Mortgage payments.

His hand holding mine when my nightmares returned.

All of it suddenly had a date before it.

A conversation between Ethan and his father.

About me.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

I opened the laptop again.

“Your father’s name is on the authorization carrying my forged signature.”

Ethan stood.

“What?”

This time the surprise looked real.

I turned the screen toward him.

He leaned closer.

His face lost color.

“Where did you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Grace, listen to me.”

“No.”

He stopped.

I picked up the white card General Barrett had given me and placed it beside the laptop.

At the reception, that card had looked almost meaningless.

Now it was the only thing in the room I trusted.

I called Barrett.

He answered himself.

“Did you make the call?”

“Yes.”

I looked at Ethan.

“I want back in.”

Ethan shook his head.

“Grace—”