Girl of Vengeance by Charles Sheehan-Miles Page A

it was this Leslie Collins? He and Dad … I mean … whatever we call him … he and Richard Thompson were involved in the incident in Afghanistan. Now he wants to shut my dad up, smear him, whatever. So he sets up a scheme to discredit him.”
    Julia nodded, rapidly. “That would explain the mysterious accounts in the Caymans I keep hearing about. Maybe.”
    “So how do we figure out who it is?” Anthony asked.
    Bear answered. “Well, we’ve got two prisoners. Joe Paretsky is in Federal lockup—he was one of the shooters in Bethesda last Tuesday, when you guys were going over to dinner. The one Dylan Paris took down. We’ve identified him, but not who he’s working for, and he’s not talking.”
    “And the other prisoner?” Anthony asked.
    “Nick Larsden. He’s in the Bellingham City Jail, and the feds are fighting for jurisdiction. They’ve got him for at least one murder in California, the owner of a campsite just out of Redwood City. He’s the guy who was shooting at Mrs. Thompson and Jessica when they tried to cross the border yesterday.”
    Anthony’s eyebrows ran together. “I think that’s our guy. Plus, I know a guy in the Bellingham PD.”
    “Yeah?” Bear said.
    Anthony nodded. “Yeah—you know I went embedded as a reporter in Iraq. One of the guys in the platoon I went in with, he works for the corrections department there. Or he did.”
    “Call him. I think I see a trip to the West Coast in my future.”

Carrie. May 5.
    As it often was, traffic along Embassy Row headed toward downtown Washington, DC was snarled. Carrie normally needed to feel in control—and preferred to drive herself for that reason—but today she was grateful that one of the Pinkerton security guards was behind the wheel of the black Suburban. She sat in the back seat with Alexandra, fidgeting and nervous.
    Another black SUV—the guard had referred to it as a chase car— drove closely behind them. Carrie kept looking down at the invitation. Cream paper with gold and black lettering.
    You and your guest are invited to dine with
    His Highness, Prince George-Phillip
    at the Embassy of the United Kingdom,
    4 pm on the Fifth of May, 2014.
    His Highness , Prince George-Phillip, was apparently her father. And this invitation felt all too formal to her. Too distant. On the other hand, what else could he have done? Called her up and said, “Hey, this is your birth father. Want to get together?”
    Obviously that made no sense. And even though part of her wanted to meet George-Phillip and learn just what had happened between him and her mother—another part just wanted to turn her back. She had nothing to lose by walking away—right now she didn’t have a father at all. Not meeting George-Phillip wouldn’t change that.
    On the other hand, meeting him—that held another kind of risk. A risk of getting hurt again. She’d lost her husband and her father. She didn’t want to lose anything else.
    But then her eyes fell on her sister. Alexandra. The middle child. She’d never been sure of herself, never had the confidence that Carrie and Julia had, never had that spark of brilliance that Sarah and Jessica had. But one thing she had was strength and loyalty. She wouldn’t shy away from any risk. She’d chosen that risk, she’d chosen to love a man who was broken by war and trauma. And despite the pain that came with that, she was richer for it.
    Carrie closed her eyes. She’d also chosen. Ray had been dead now longer than she’d even known him. Nine short months from the day they met to the day he died. They were the hardest, most difficult and yet the best months of her life. She wouldn’t go back and change them. She wouldn’t give back one ounce of grief and loss if it meant losing even the slightest memory of Ray.
    Ray—ever courageous, ever honorable, would have chuckled and pushed her to go on.
    So, instead of panicking, or withdrawing into herself, Carrie did the only thing she could, the thing she was fated to