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address.”
    Sounded like she was protecting somebody, which was probably a good thing. Maybe she’d do the same for him. Although the way things were now, only a fool would believe in that brand of protection. Giving your word meant nothing when there were a hundred other ways to find out where you were, what you were doing, who you’d been talking to. Nothing was protected anymore. Nothing was unseen, even out here.
    “Didn’t know this place had an address. So I guess you know about what happened at Sandar Khosh.”
    She nodded. “Thirteen people, wasn’t it? Mostly women and children?”
    The totals still made him wince. He saw the girl as clearly as if she were seated at the other end of the couch, still dressed in the colors of the flag, one arm missing. Today, at least, she was alone. Often she was accompanied by his own kids, Danny and Karen, plus the two boys who had probably been her brothers. A playgroup of the lost and the damned, frolicking in his head.
    “That’s what the Red Cross said, anyway,” she continued. He snapped back to the present.
    “I’m sorry. What was that?”
    “The Red Cross. They said it was thirteen.”
    “It was Fort1’s call. The mission, the target, all of it. Other than that I can’t tell you a hell of a lot.”
    “You never met him?”
    “Doesn’t work that way. We almost never see the J-TACs.”
    “Jay whats?”
    “Joint terminal attack controller. They run the show on Predator missions. Usually from a forward position, in theater. But not always. Standard procedure.” Listen to him, talking like a pilot again. The buzzwords returned so fast, like lyrics to a familiar old song.
    “No one ever mentioned his name?”
    “That kind of stuff was above my pay grade. But …” He paused, wondering whether to continue.
    “But what?”
    She slipped out her notebook. It reminded him of their earlierinterview, years ago, and the memory almost overwhelmed him. He’d been gung-ho then, full of himself, ready for anything. Good husband, newly married to Carol, no kids yet to take their minds off each other. What was he now? Certainly none of those things. He looked away from the reporter and again glanced at the patch of sky in the kitchen window, seemingly benign. If people only knew.
    “I saw something.”
    “Just now?”
    “Back then, in my CO’s office. A file.”
    “About Fort1?”
    He nodded.
    “Was this during the break-in?”
    He turned abruptly.
    “You know about the fucking break-in?”
    “It was mentioned in some documents. What did you see?”
    He eyed her carefully, suspicious now.
    “You sure you’re not with them?”
    “Them?”
    “The Air Force. The powers that be. Everybody who fucked me over. This could be a security check, an excuse to haul me in.”
    “I’m a reporter, that’s all.”
    “For the Boston paper, right?”
    “The
Globe
, yes, but not anymore. They closed my bureau, so I took a buyout. I’m freelance now. We all are, so we’ve pooled our resources. We’ve got maybe three months before we start running out of money. We’re hoping this story will be our ticket.”
    “Fort1? Is he really that big of a deal?”
    “Maybe. We think he’s part of something larger. You said you saw a file?”
    “That’s right.”
    A pause, then nothing.
    Cole was again lost in thought. Something had just occurred to him—a possible means of escape from the trailer, from these surroundings that suddenly felt so desolate. There was a huge, empty landscape waiting beyond the closed door, endlessly patient, one that was swallowing him whole, cell by cell. Unless he took action to stopit, he would soon disappear. A set of dry bones in the sand, left to be scattered by birds and coyotes, then covered forever. At that moment a notion flitted across his brain that startled him as much as the hawk had a few moments ago: If this woman hadn’t come here today, or at all, would he ever have seen another living soul? He wasn’t sure of the answer,