What wasn’t over was Victor. Victor was a problem solver. And right now, Ethan was a problem. And men like Victor didn’t let problems sit. They investigated them. They found leverage. They built strategies. He was going to need to be ready for whatever that looked like.
He was in the kitchen making coffee when his phone buzzed again. A text this time, not a call. The number was unfamiliar. Not Victor’s number from the night before. He opened it. The text said, “You should know they’re asking about you. Someone filed a records request. Former military. J.” He stared at it for a moment. Jay was Jameson. Colonel Jameson Reeves, retired, who now sat on the board of a veterans advocacy organization in DC and had more connections in more places than anyone Ethan had ever met.
They had served adjacent tours in the same theater and crossed paths enough times that a friendship of the particular kind, low-maintenance, high trust, had taken root and stayed. Jameson had contacts everywhere, including apparently wherever it was that private investigators filed certain kinds of requests. Ethan typed back, “How serious?” The response came in under a minute. “Full background. Military records and sealed commendations, financials. Someone with money behind it.”
Victor moving fast. Ethan had to give him credit. Within sixteen hours of the confrontation, Victor had already deployed resources. He typed, “Okay, thank you.” Jameson’s reply. “Anything you need, you call.” “Clear,” Ethan typed. “Give my best to Helen.” He put the phone face down on the counter and drank his coffee.
He thought about what a full background investigation into his military record would find. The short answer was more than Victor was expecting. The longer answer was more complicated. His record contained things that were publicly accessible and impressive. It also contained things that were not publicly accessible and were significantly more than impressive. Classified mission citations with details redacted, commendations signed by people whose names couldn’t appear in any document without triggering security protocols.
What Victor’s investigator was going to find was not the picture of a broken, struggling veteran that Ryan’s narrative had painted. What they were going to find was something that would require a complete rethinking of the entire situation. He almost felt sorry for Victor. Almost.
Three days passed. They were unusual days, tense in a way that had no visible source, like the feeling before a thunderstorm when the sky is still technically clear. Ryan’s house was quiet. The Challenger and the Porsche stayed in the driveway. The training friends didn’t come. The music stayed off. Lily noticed. “He hasn’t come outside once,” she said on the second evening, looking out the kitchen window while she dried dishes. “I know,” Ethan said. “Is that good or bad?” “I don’t know yet.” She handed him a plate to put away. “Are you worried?”
He thought about that honestly. “Not worried,” he said. “Alert.” “What’s the difference?” “Worried is emotion,” he said. “Alert is information. Worried makes you reactive. Alert makes you ready.” She considered that while she dried the next plate. “Is that a SEAL thing?” “It’s a survival thing,” he said. “You can use it for anything. Tests, job interviews.” She gave him a sideways look. “Did you just try to turn this into a life lesson?” “Did it work?” “Little bit,” she admitted. He put the plate away and allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction.