Page 101 of A Hero Comes Home

And the weeks went on.

Oh, she knew where he was. Izzie had informed her, the day after Labor Day, that Jake had admitted himself to a VA hospital’s mental health unit. An inpatient dealing with intense PTSD.

“Oh, Jacob!” she had cried. “That would have been so hard for him.”

“Yeah, but it’s a first step . . . a positive step,” Izzie had countered. “He never should have come back so soon. He needed more counseling.”

Sally had a few thoughts about that, but it did no good to berate Izzie. It wasn’t his fault.

“I should go to him,” she’d told Izzie, but he told her that Jake was adamant in declaring, “No visitors!” And that included Izzie, Durand, family, friends, everyone. He wanted to handle this himself.

The ass!

“Will you give him a message from me?”

“He won’t see me, either, Sal.”

“But you could get a message to him. Or Major Durand could. I’m going to email it to you. Then, you are going to print it out, and make sure he gets it, dammit. Do you hear me?”

“They heard you in the Bahamas.”

Then, days later, something happened that shook her world. The nightly news was full of reports on another government overthrow in Balakistan, even more violent than the previous one when Jake had been returned to the US. In the melee that occurred, another dissident tribal group executed many of the top leaders of the Qadir cabinet, including the prime minister and the minister of defense, Nazim bin Jamil.

Sally called Izzie right away. “This is good news for Jake, right? Now that he has no reason to fear that he or his family are in danger, he can come home.”

“Um . . . well . . .”

“What? Don’t tell me. More secrets.”

“It’s not that, exactly.” He sighed and told her, “A member of this new group, in order to justify its case for legitimacy, has released intel on some of the atrocities inflicted by the Qadir followers, some of it on local tribes who failed to support them. We’re talking old people, women, kids, and . . .” His words trailed off.

She knew without his saying the words that what he wasn’t including in the list of victims was captives, as well, like Jake. She inhaled to brace herself.

“One female member of this new group witnessed some of the prisoner torture firsthand. While she doesn’t mention names, it’s clear—at least to us in the military—that she’s talking about Jake.”

“Where is she doing this talking?”

“On the internet. But I’m begging you, Sally. Don’t look. The details are too graphic, and . . .” Izzie seemed to choke up. “And there are some pictures.”

Oh, my God! Will this nightmare ever end? “All the more reason why I should go to him.”

“No. He is going to feel humiliated by some of this crap. He shouldn’t, but you know that he will. Besides, he’s not in the mental health unit anymore.”

“What? When did that happen? Is he in another part of the hospital?”

“No. He’s left North Carolina.”

“I knew it, I knew it. I should have gone to him while he was still that close. Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do so, you lying piece of dog . . . barf.”

Izzie laughed. “He had an appointment at that orthopedic hospital in New York City, but that was a few days ago. I don’t know where he is now.”

He knew. He just didn’t want to tell her, either at Durand’s or Jake’s orders.

Aha! In that moment, Sally knew where he was now, too. With the phone to her ear, she went over to the wall calendar. Yep, September 30. The eye clinic in Baltimore. But she wasn’t telling Izzie that she knew. Instead, she tweaked him a little, “By the way, what did you do to Laura Atler when you were here? Word is that she’s no longer seeing Gabe Conti.”