At the center of the room, a black-draped pedestal held an ancient marble coffin.
This wasn’t a church—it was a tomb.
Nola turned the iPad again. She knew this place. She’d been here before, during that trip to Afghanistan when she flipped her motorcycle racing the Army chaplain whose eyes were always red like a chili. After her surgery, Nola came here, where so many soldiers had no choice but to sightsee as they waited for flights back to the States. It was called the most beautiful place in Kabul—the Gardens of Babur, with the famous Tomb of— “What’re you doing?” a voice barked.
Nola spun around. It took a half second to realize it was coming from the iPad.
“Answer me!” the voice shouted again.
Already off balance, Nola kept turning. Onscreen, something moved. Someone. Headed right for her. She saw his legs first. Beige, pale green, and brown camouflage—the old Army desert combat uniform from Iraq.
She lifted the iPad, finally getting a good look.
Her mouth went dry, like someone was reaching down her throat, pulling her lungs out.
Th-That’s not possible . . .
But there he was, onscreen. The buzzed blond hair. The lantern jaw. Even the pale blue eyes . . . He was supposed to be dead.
“What in fuck’s name are you doing here!?” Lieutenant Colonel Archie Mint barked, plowing straight at Nola.
22
Guidry, Texas
Seventeen years ago
This was Roddy when he was eleven.
He was raging, his lips curling away from his teeth as he stormed upstairs. “Anne Marie! I know you have it! Gimme my Game Boy!” Roddy shouted, referring to the handheld Nintendo he’d spent six months saving for, mowing lawns, washing cars, even going door to door to sell off the old baseball cards he’d stolen from other kids.
“Roddy, please don’t pick a fight,” his younger brother, Darren, pleaded, trailing behind him as they reached the second floor, storming toward the door with a red-and-white metal sign that read:
DANGER!
Teenager Inside!
Proceed with Caution!
The sign was right.
“Give me the damn Game Boy, you skank, or I’ll—”
Roddy threw open the door, surprised to find . . .
Laughter.
On the bed, his older sister, Anne Marie, was lying on her stomach, feet in the air, twirling her left ankle like a satellite dish. She stared at the Game Boy, giggling.
She wasn’t the only one.
On Roddy’s left, in a pink beanbag chair, was a ninth-grade girl with crystal-blue eyes, her blond hair up in the same French braid she’d worn since elementary school. Missy Totino. Anne Marie’s best friend—and the girl Roddy had had a crush on since that sleepover last year when Roddy walked in while Missy was on the toilet.
“See, he’s embarrassed. Told you he loved you!” Anne Marie said to Missy.
“A.M.!” Roddy scolded. “She’s joking,” he insisted.
“So now you don’t think she’s pretty?” Anne Marie challenged.
“No, that’s not—”
“Would you kiss her?”
“A.M.!” Roddy pleaded, the anger gone from his voice. He was begging now, trying to limit the damage. “Can I please just have my Game Boy?”
“Sure.” Anne Marie grinned. “For a trade.”