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Three hundred and forty-six days after I turned seventeen and got my GED I used the little money I had to buy a one-way ticket to Anchorage. Lucky had a friend of his waiting for me at the Elmendorf-Richardson base, and he took me over to the recruitment office. So I signed up then and there, to the branch that Lucky had served in.

Three years ago, I took leave from my team when Aunt Meg died. My younger cousin Sheila and I were going through her things, and that’s when I found this picture. When I asked Dad about it, he acted skittish. Then he said they were kids Meg used to babysit for. When I asked him when she had lived in Tennessee, he’d lost his shit.

Of course.

He tried his normal moves, and I just smiled. I crossed my arms over my chest and stood there while he ranted and raved.

I perused my boyhood home again while I waited for him to wear himself out. The living room was a shambles. Two lamps didn’t even have lampshades, just lonely lightbulbs casting light on the cheap wood paneling falling off the walls. Back when we’d lived there together, I’d done my best to keep it clean. Now the ashtrays overflowed, empty beer cans lay all over the green shag rug, and when I’d looked earlier, I’d noted that some dishes in the sink actually had mold growing in them.

I turned back to him. “Are you done?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, boy. I brought you into this world, I can take you out.”

Another overused Ronald Davies line.

I didn’t bother to respond. “I’ve dreamt of this boy,” I said as I pointed to the kid in the wagon. “I’ve dreamt of those red cowboy boots. Am I one of these kids?”

He lunged for my hand. Ronald was my height and our builds were similar, but too much beer and too many cigarettes had made him soft. Meanwhile, I trained almost every day. I’d had enough. I easily knocked him back.

“Old Man, this picture is mine. Now answer the goddamned question,” I roared.

He didn’t like me pushing him back. He got that shitty, shifty expression on his face. “I told you. I don’t know who they are. I’ve never seen them before. But maybe I can find out for you.”

The old man was lying through his cracked yellow teeth.

“How?”

“You know how youse always jabbering away about your mom? Well, I seem to remember her having some people in Tennessee. Maybe I can⁠—”

A piece of wood paneling fell off the wall when I threw the old man against it. I shoved my forearm under his neck. “Don’t you tell me some garbage that you think I want to hear. You fucking tell me the truth. Where is my mom?”

On my birth certificate, she was Rose McDonald. That was written in the spot for maiden name, and married name was Rose Davies. Her age was nineteen, and her place of birth was noted as Dillingham, Alaska, which was a downright lie. Not one person in this tiny little town ever heard of a Rose McDonald. I knew that. I got my hands on my birth certificate when I’d realized I wanted to join the service. I’d found it on Ronald’s boat in a footlocker.

“I told you; I heard her say once that she had people in Tennessee.”

“Why the lie on the birth certificate? Why did she write down she was born in Dillingham?” I demanded to know.

“She didn’t know how to read or write. I put it in there. She said she was from all over down south. Her daddy had been in the Army. It was just easier to put down Dillingham.”

“Where is she now?”

“Just how in the hell should I know? I told you when you was eighteen. She done robbed me blind and took off. Took all the money from one week’s haul. Couldn’t pay my crew.”

“And why would she have done that?”

“Probably chasing after some man. She was a hussy. Took a plane right out of town. Found out she took a flight from Anchorage to Seattle. Don’t know what happened to her after that.”

I closed my eyes. Why did I even bother? Ronald Davies never once paid his crew fairly. It got to where Lucky would have to go with him to watch the catch being weighed and the money being paid out every time we unloaded at Dutch Harbor.

That was the last lie I allowed my father to tell me. When my leave ended, I went back to base and didn’t call or write to him again. But I kept that photo in my wallet, determined that one day I would get to the bottom of this mystery.

So here I am. Pushed out of Delta Force because of a catastrophic injury that damn near caused me not to walk again. But to hear my team tell it, I had angels standing in front of me, deflecting two sniper bullets and most of the concrete shards flying all around me. My team were sure I was destined to die that night. I didn’t, but it sure felt like I lost my real family, my team, when I had to leave Delta. Now, here I was tracking down a vague memory that would probably come to nothing.

I pulled off Hwy 321 toward Jasper Creek. I kept it at the speed limit; no point in tempting small town cops to rake in some additional revenue by charging me with a speeding ticket. My car navigation system told me I’d just passed over into Jasper Creek proper when I saw a sign that tickled me. It was a fifties-style waitress in a pink-and-white striped uniform, bending down at the waist holding a tray with a burger, fries, and a shake. My mouth watered. Time for some food. Maybe I could ask some questions. It was a small town. Maybe somebody would know something.

When I pulled up in my new-to-me GMC Canyon that I’d bought three days ago in Nashville, I was pleased to see that the parking lot was full. That always boded well for good food. When I got inside, the hostess said there’d be a twenty-minute wait. I didn’t mind. Gave me a minute to check the news. I wanted to see what was going on in the different hot spots in the world. See where my team might be deployed.

Shit.