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“Ah, rookie mistake.” Reece nodded his head.
“I ate dinner at the grill a couple of times the past week in case she was there tutoring a student again.” He’d taken his wedding ring off Monday before going. For something that he’d rarely given a second thought to for decades, he was keenly aware of the ring’s absence now. “No luck, and I think finals wrapped up.”
“Was she attractive?” Megan asked.
“I thought so. She also had a nice smile and sense of humor.” He smiled, recalling her ‘it’s classified’ comment. “She seemed outgoing. I noticed her hugging and talking to the single guys in your unit at the welcome home reception.”
“I remember her,” Alex said. “She was about your age, had shoulder-length, reddish-brown hair, and wearing a red USO polo shirt?”
“That’s her. I, uh, checked out a few dating sites. I had no idea there were so many. I haven’t signed up or anything.” He hadn’t found Erin on any of them. While he’d guessed Erin was close to his age, if she was over fifty, she might be on one of the dating sites he hadn’t checked—or not looking to date.
“You know she volunteers at the USO. You could look for her there,” Jace suggested.
“What are the chances she’d be working? It’s not like I have a reason to keep showing up there. It could look like I’m stalking her.”
“Just ask the center director when she’s working or for her contact information. You’re a colonel. They’ll probably tell you. Sounds easier than trying to find her tutoring with the school year ending.”
Leave it to Jace to make it sound simple.
“Whatever you do, don’t set up social media accounts saying you’re a widowed colonel and start friending or following or messaging women you don’t know.” Megan rolled her eyes.
“Amen to that,” Alex added.
“Why’s that?” Besides needing to keep a low profile in the Special Ops community, he had better things to spend his time on than social media.
“Because scammers set up fake accounts claiming to be some divorced or widowed military man, often with kids. They’ll download pictures from soldiers’ social media accounts, Wikipedia, and even the official Army profiles,” Megan explained.
“I’m alwaysso temptedto accept when they post pictures of flowers or a stuffed teddy bear. Not. Seriously, do you know any military guy who would do that?” Alex asked.
“Not even the Chair Force,” Jace concurred.
“What do they get out of setting up fake accounts?” It seemed like a waste of time to Graham.
“I guess to convince some woman they’re romantically interested enough for them to send money and gifts. The FRG constantly sends warnings. Though, if we’re married to military hunks, we aren’t the right target audience.” Megan ran a hand over Reece’s arm. “Single women thirty to eighty though . . .”
“Do any of them fall for it?” Sending care packages to deployed soldiers was one thing, but Graham would discipline any of his soldiers who scammed people for money.
“Apparently. If scammers contact one to two hundred people a week and get even five to fall for it, it can be a big payday in some poverty-stricken countries,” Reece pointed out.
“Where do they find that many people?” Graham asked.
Alex smiled subtly. “They mine your contacts. Kind of like networking, but in a less personal way.”
“This is a whole new world for me.”
“Don’t settle for the first woman you meet. And remember, you promised no eloping before we meet her.” Megan laughed, but her eyes held a warning.
“I won’t,” he promised. He knew firsthand how that could alienate his kids.
* * *
After this morning’s briefing,General McKittrick had made a point of asking Graham how things were going in his personal life. A not-so-subtle reminder that the clock was ticking and every day mattered.
Graham left his office for a late lunch and headed to the USO. He hoped to arrive just before the shift change, which could double his remote chance of finding Erin there. Two volunteers were at the desk when he walked in just before thirteen hundred hours. That neither were Erin dampened his mood, even though he hadn’t expected her to be there. Still, it would have been confirmation or a sign.
“Welcome, Colonel.” The cheerful, balding volunteer greeted him.
“Is the director in?”
