Chapter 4

Frank had seen that mark once before.
Not on a poster.
Not in a story.
On a folded flag carried by three Marines who cried like children.
The woman looked at Frank.
“Ask him what that means.”
Mercer glanced at the coin, then back at her.
“What is this? Some little biker club token?”
Nobody laughed.
Frank stepped out from behind the bar.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like the floor beneath him had become sacred.
He walked around the counter and stopped beside the coin.
His voice dropped so deep the whole bar leaned in to hear it.
“Sergeant… you just hit the wrong woman.”
Mercer’s smile finally disappeared.
The woman did not look at the coin.
She looked at the private near the wall.
Ryan Bell’s face was white.
His eyes were fixed on the black coin like he had seen a ghost.
Mercer noticed.
“What’s wrong with you?” he snapped. “You know her?”
Ryan’s lips parted.
“No.”
But his voice shook.
The woman turned toward him for the first time.
Softly, she said, “Your brother’s name was Caleb.”
Ryan stopped breathing.
The room shifted.
Mercer looked between them.
“What did you say?”
The woman took one step away from the bar.
“Specialist Caleb Bell. Alpha Company. Twenty-six years old. Left-handed. Wrote letters to his mother every Sunday. Hated powdered eggs. Carried a picture of his little brother in his helmet band.”
Ryan stood so fast his chair scraped backward.
“How do you know that?”
The woman swallowed.
For the first time, pain crossed her face.
Not from the slap.
From memory.
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“Because I was with him when he died.”
Read Part 5 to find out who the woman really was — and why Ryan’s family knew her name.