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  The lady holding the microphone nodded sadly. “And this is not the first report we’ve received of this kind. After the Kansas River froze, we had numerous reports in other counties of cattle being found dead from what veterinarians are calling exposure. But local meteorologists question the autopsy results, saying that it’s impossible for this to happen at the current temperatures. They suspect there might be foul play.”

  A man with a suit stood by and the reporter asked him what it would mean for Riley County. He gave a tight smile, but Brittany could see the worry haunting his gaze. “The beef industry in Kansas represents a large part of the state’s economy. Kansas agriculture ties closely to the performance of the livestock sectors, and we’ve seen a steady increase of cost for recent crop prices. People are going to see it rise even more and they won’t like it.”

  “What can we do?” the reporter asked.

  He chuckled to himself and wiped his mouth before saying, “I dunno. Pray?”

  The woman looked taken back, and she quickly turned to the camera and said, “Back to you at the main station, Gerry. It’s getting cold out here.”

  Brittany turned the volume down and stared out the window. It was really blowing outside. Trash flew across the grassy acreage and the bags chased each other like small dogs in the distance.

  DING DONG.

  Brittany checked her watch. The kids shouldn’t be home for another half hour. She got up and squinted through the peep hole. Her brain didn’t register what she was seeing as she opened the door and asked, “Can I help you?”

  The two men in dress uniforms removed their hats. Behind them was a black SUV that seemed out of place. “Ma’am, may we come in?”

  “Certainly,” she said, stepping back.

  They walked into the entryway but paused. “Are you Mrs. Leeward?” one asked.

  “No. I’m just the nanny.”

  The one on the left seemed to be the one deciding for the two. His nametag said Ites and he had more decorations on his uniform than the other. He was an officer, that part Brittany could recognize, but she was new to the Army thing and would readily admit ignorance. Still, somewhere in the back of her mind, the meaning of their visit must have registered because her stomach started twisting into knots.

  Ites asked her, “Ma’am, do you know when Mrs. Leeward will be home?”

  “She won’t be coming here,” Brittany answered. “They divorced. Reese doesn’t—she lives in New York. Well, not exactly divorced yet, I guess,” Brittany added, rambling with nerves. “They’re separated. They’re going through a filing.” She covered her mouth and spoke through her fingers. “I hope I didn’t just spill their business. Oh, please don’t tell William—er Mr. Leeward I said that.”

  The two men shared an uncomfortable look, and it dawned on Brittany in that moment what her subconscious seemed to already know. “Oh my God. What happened?” she cried. “Is William—Mr. Leeward—Captain Leeward hurt?” Tears filled her eyes. “Is that why you’re—”

  The door flung open as Benton and Lily arrived. “The field trip was so great!” they both shouted, running through the entryway. “The wind was so strong it almost blew our bus over!” Lily said with wide eyes. “It was awesome.”

  Neither noticed that Brittany was upset, or that the two men stuck out like sore thumbs and were far too overdressed for a simple visit. “Hi,” Benton said. “You guys know my dad?”

  “Yes,” Brittany hurried and replied for them. “They just stopped by to see if he was home.”

  “Nope,” Benton said. “He’s in Poland. Four more months.”

  Lily was already playing Barbies in the living room, but Benton stood next to Brittany frowning at the two men as if he were the man of the house. He seemed suspicious and was slowly figuring things out, she could tell.

  “Benton,” Brittany said. “Can you take Lily upstairs and get your costumes ready for trick or treating? I’ll be up in a minute.”

  That broke his trance and with a grin, he immediately raced to get his sister. Together they bounded up the stairs arguing over which candy each of them would trade the other for once they had their loot.

  The two men kept quiet until the kids were no longer in earshot. Once alone, Ites kept his voice low. “Are you their guardian? I mean, officially? Was Captain Leeward expecting you to handle legal matters for the children?”

  Brittany sagged against the wall, hand to her forehead. “Was?” she asked in a small voice, reacting to the past tense used when referring to William. “I have paperwork if you’d like to see it. A special power of attorney for them just in case. What happened?”

  The second man pulled out a notification letter. Sweat had already formed on his lip, and now Brittany noticed that his hands shook as well. His voice cracked as he read the document: “Captain Leeward was on a training mission in Warsaw when the Humvee driver lost control during a routine operation through a civilian sector. Black ice formed on the road and was unexpected. The driver, Private Jones, lost control of the vehicle and drove into a river. Captain Leeward and four other passengers were unable to be rescued before the vehicle sank deep into the riverbed and the weather prevented further diving for retrieval. The body of Captain Leeward…the body…”

  Ites nodded at the young man to continue and he wiped his lip dry before he finished: “The body of Captain Leeward remains in the river and will remain as such due to severe weather conditions preventing personnel from bringing him home. The Army would like to officially apologize and promises to return to the area and search for Captain Leeward’s remains once the weather permits.” He glanced up with a noble stare right at Brittany who’d already begun sobbing into her fisted hands. “We won’t give up on trying to locate your soldier, ma’am.”

  The last part should have been said to a wife, but Brittany nodded, accepting his promise on behalf of his children with an overwhelmed expression of regret.

  When Brittany could speak, she asked. “What do I tell the children? Tell me…what do I even say to them?”

  The younger man—she now read his nametag that said Waters—answered, “We are sorry for your loss and theirs, ma’am. A liaison will be by to help you adjust to the transition of your loss.”

  “A liaison?” she asked, wiping away the tears, trying to stop crying so the children wouldn’t see.

  “Yes,” Waters said, sounding much stronger now than when he was reading the script. Brittany thought about how he must be new at giving notifications. He looked really young to her after speaking with him more directly. Younger than herself, even. He couldn’t be more than nineteen. She wondered if he realized that people as young as him die doing the same job he does. Her thoughts were beginning to scatter. “Someone who can help with anything you need,” Waters continued. “Grief counseling and arrangements.”

  “I don’t have the ability to make arrangements for Mr. Leeward.” Brittany’s head dropped as she realized that she would never see William’s face again. He wasn’t exactly close to her, but she’d grown very close to Benton and Lily. How on earth would she be able to face them with the terrible news? Their father was far too young to be gone forever. Stolen by some accident on the ice.

  “Are there grandparents?” Ites asked. “Their mother, can she come here?”

  “No. No grandparents that I know of. Their mother Reese is…busy. She calls maybe once a week. She’s some big executive or something at her company.”

  But Brittany would have to call Reese. To be honest, the woman intimidated her. The way William spoke of her was with deep regret, but also as if he were speaking of someone who shouldn’t be messed with. But Brittany didn’t want these people, strangers, telling the children their father was dead. And with only their nanny to console them.

  “Britt!” Benton called from upstairs. “I can’t find my Spiderman mask!”

  “Please,” she said quietly to the two men as she wiped her eyes. “You need to leave. Don’t send a liaison until I know who is going to handl
e the arrangements. I need to call their mother and figure this out. But you have to go or they’ll guess what’s happened before I can get some of their family here.”

  Ites and Waters nodded sadly and returned their hats. Ites turned before he left and offered, “Here is the number for your personal contact. Call it whenever you are ready, and they’ll set everything up for you.” He touched her shoulder. “The Army will take care of everything.”

  Brittany took the card and closed the door. She realized she was in shock. She had no plans to arrange William’s funeral—it wasn’t exactly in her job description. But no one is prepared for death, she realized.

  Chapter 2

  New York City, New York

  New York Times Offices - Cubicle #14

  It was unreasonably cold for fall. Snow was already three inches deep on the pavement and the news was saying by evening a blizzard would be blowing through the city. Michelle bundled up before leaving, checking to make sure she hadn’t missed any messages. After powering down her computer, she said goodbye to Susie in her neighboring cubicle. “Burning the midnight oil? It’s going to be too dangerous to go home much later, Sue. Stay safe.”

  Sue lifted a hand but the other one was still typing. She had a deadline and she was the master of the last-minute rewrite. Michelle on the other hand would not risk her life to stay late; if her projects were overdue, so be it. And that was probably why she hadn’t seen a raise or a promotion in two years. Other interns had come and gone, mostly on to their dream jobs, while Michelle was only getting a minimum salary that paid for a cramped studio apartment in a bad part of town.

  For once, however, she had finished and caught up on her workload, and Michelle was honestly glad she wouldn’t have to deal with Halloween trick or treaters in her apartment complex. No one would be out in what was predicted. They’d be staying in with the blizzard, and she relished the idea that come nightfall she’d be alone with a glass of wine along with a few bags of chocolate. After the week she’d had, it would be well deserved.

  Michelle wasn’t prepared for the biting cold when she opened the building’s glass doors to exit. It stole through her layers and immediately zapped the heat from her extremities. She found herself thinking unfortunate thoughts about the woman who insisted they come in tomorrow no matter what. Her boss Lisa had been more driven than usual. She was covering the weather across America and stories were piling up. Dead cows in the Midwest, blizzards on the east coast, and even California had a freeze overnight that caused their waterlines to bust and flood the northern cities. Parts of San Francisco had to be blocked off, and the Golden Gate Bridge was too dangerous to cross even by foot, let alone a car at the moment. Lisa ate it all up and had them working around the clock to update the readers about whatever strange circus trick the weather was doing next.

  Michelle had to run in her heels to catch the next train and could feel blisters forming on her feet. The cold was already slowing her down. Her nose stung at the tip and her eyes burned from the wind drying them out, but she made it in time after tripping down the steps to the platform twice. Just before the doors slid shut, she squeezed between them and found a seat easily because no one else was crazy enough to be traveling.

  The subway trundled towards her stop and Michelle sighed out the long day. She was dreaming of a hot bubble bath when all too quickly she arrived at her block and would have to face the freezing wind once again. Michelle gathered her things with a frustrated growl, walked off the train and was struck again by how cold it really had turned. Her teeth chattered and she tightened her coat, but it wasn’t helping in the least. Even though there were some suspicious looking characters at the stairway of her exit, they left her be, hands firmly in their pockets, too cold to bother with anything other than trying to stay warm.

  It was only a block to her complex, but it felt like miles. She wondered about Bob, the poor homeless man that had been sleeping on her landing. His cardboard box wasn’t going to do anything for him.

  When Michelle got to her door, she found Bob there on her stoop, hunched over a cup of something hot. At least someone else had thought of the poor man in the blizzard as well.

  She thought for a moment but hesitated. It wasn’t like her to struggle with her conscience, but was it wise to be as trusting as she’d always been? Since moving to New York, she’d learned some things, like for one, how naïve she could be at times. Trusting. It was how she was raised being from the south, but in the city, you didn’t just let anyone into your home. Still, the sun was gone already, and the sky was a blanket of darkness. A blizzard was sure to hit in the night, there was no question, and what about Bob then?

  Michelle stood wavering on the decision before she blurted, “Come in, Bob. Before you freeze to death.”

  She let him inside hoping her landlord wouldn’t come walking out into their shared hallway at that moment, but Michelle made it to her actual door without issue as Bob silently followed her in, obviously bewildered by the gesture. His gray bushy eyebrows were propped high on his weathered forehead. “Michelle,” he said quietly with a twang. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.” He ignored her when she motioned for him to come into her living space after unlocking the door, but Michelle laughed.

  She wasn’t sure about it, either. “Tomorrow,” she said, “you can go to a shelter, right? This is just for the night.” But she felt her nerves pull tight at asking a semi-stranger into her place. Michelle bet she wouldn’t be getting much sleep.

  “Just until the storm passes?” he asked, his blue eyes clear and questioning, and Michelle realized it was possible that Bob was much younger than she’d assumed before. She’d put him now in his mid-fifties whereas in quick passing, him hunched by her front steps, she’d have guessed much older.

  Michelle waved her hands. “Yes. Come inside. Hurry.”

  He did, and she closed the door, her heart jackhammering as thoughts of being robbed or worse flowed through her mind. Michelle shut that type of negativity down. Bob had never hurt a soul as far as she knew. Perhaps he was just down on his luck; she wouldn’t judge him just because he was a dirty, homeless man. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt for now, but then he’d be on his own tomorrow.

  Michelle offered, “Have a seat. I hope you like cats.”

  Maybe he was allergic? She never thought of that, but Bob only smiled when he saw her cat, Hatty, wandering in to see what the fuss was about.

  “Yes. I do,” Bob said, and immediately Hatty jumped right into his lap and purred while he stroked her white fur.

  “I’ll make some coffee if you’d like.” She couldn’t help but smile. If Hatty liked Bob, then he couldn’t be all bad. “Or is that coffee you’re already drinking?” she asked, hoping it wasn’t booze.

  “This?” He lifted the paper cup. “Some cocoa. But I’d love coffee if you’re making a pot.”

  Bob kept his attention on the cat, and Michelle enjoyed the pleasure that moved across his face. He was an animal lover to be sure. That made her feel much better about her impromptu invitation.

  “How do you take it?” she called from the kitchen.

  “Black, please.”

  She brought in two cups and they turned on the television. Michelle tried to flip through the Halloween specials, but every station was breaking news about the weather. Bob sipped his coffee and seemed extra interested in one of the updates, so Michelle turned up the volume for him. The news anchor spoke solemnly with a scene behind him of the blizzard right there in the city. “Cybercorp refuses to comment on the effects the thermal shade may be having on our current increase in weather warnings. Some have speculated that the weather will only get worse and that the shade is the cause, but Cybercorp refuses to address any of these concerns.”

  “Hmmm,” Bob grunted, and Michelle glanced over.

  “What do you think about all of this?” she asked.

  He avoided her gaze and shrugged, but not before she noticed a peculiar gleam in his eyes. Was that f
rustration? Had the report angered Bob in some way?

  “You think this has something to do with the umbrella?”

  “I try not to think much anymore,” was all he said, and he focused intently on petting the cat.

  He was hiding something, but Michelle left the man alone with his own cross to bear.

  “Too bad the kids can’t go out trick or treating,” Bob said, surprising her in his wistfulness. “It was my favorite thing when I was a kid.”

  “Mine too,” Michelle said. “In the south—”

  “You’re from the south?”

  “Louisiana, born and raised,” she answered.

  “Georgia myself.”

  Michelle gaped at him. “My father’s from Atlanta.”

  Bob chuckled. “Small world. You mind?”

  He wanted to take off his jacket and was asking permission.

  “Not at all. Where are my manners?” Michelle jumped to her feet and took his coat. It wasn’t as dirty as it was old after all. She hung it up. “The bathroom’s just back there if you need as well.”

  Michelle motioned at his arm. There was an old-style tattoo with a symbol she recognized. “Is that military?”

  Bob nodded. “Marines.”

  Ah, so he was a veteran. Michelle felt terrible for judging him before, but then again, the military didn’t make people angels. Better to be safe than sorry. But now she wondered something. “Which war?”

  Bob’s gaze grew shuttered and she felt bad, but she was a reporter, and a story about the day in the life of a veteran on the streets was forming in her mind already. She thought he might not answer, but then he said, “Afghanistan. Two tours.”