Page 67 of Critical Doubt

"Yes, you do." He paused, giving her a long, thoughtful look. "It's Ryker. You're worried about him."

"He's had a rough time this year."

"All of us have."

"I didn't mean to diminish what you've been through. Ryker would say his issues are nothing compared to yours."

"But they're something. I've wondered why he fell off the face of the earth, but he wouldn't talk to me. He wouldn't talk to anyone."

"He's a proud man."

"And that's his weakness," Mason said, rolling his wheelchair around the desk. "I'm going to check on him."

She was happy to see Mason go after Ryker. After the very cold reception Ryker had gotten from Hank, he could probably use a friend right about now.

As Mason left, she got up and moved around his desk, her gaze sweeping the paperwork with practiced ease. The pages revealed weapon test results from a broad range of weaponry, not much of which made sense to her. There were a lot of numbers, but not much text. There were also inventory and packing lists for upcoming shipments and schematics of a weapon that appeared to be a newer version of the AK-47.

She turned her attention to the file cabinet behind the desk. There were some framed photos on the top of the cabinet. One was of Mason and a little girl about five. She wondered who the child was. She hadn't thought that Mason had any children. Maybe it was his niece. There was also a photo of the squad that was not the one she'd seen at Abby's house. This one had been taken on some base somewhere, and they appeared to be in the middle of a football game. Some of them were shirtless. They were all tan. They looked happy, strong, and eager. Those were the good days when they'd been invincible. Each man had the same look in his eyes: anticipation and excitement. Rangers were born to fight. And these men had done just that, over and over again. But now their battles were far more personal and perhaps even more dangerous.

Ryker washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. The bells were starting to fade, but when the restroom door opened and Mason rolled in, they chimed once more.

"What's going on?" Mason asked, his gaze serious.

"I just needed a minute," he said tersely.

"You never need a minute. You're always ready, even when the rest of us aren't."

"Not anymore. Things change. You know that better than anyone."

"I do. What's in your head, Ryker?"

"A lot of noise," he admitted. "It comes and goes. I never know what will trigger it."

"Are you getting help?"

"There's nothing to be done. It's not physiological."

"Then go to a shrink."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You have your own problems."

"Doesn't mean I can't think about yours for a minute. I know you don't ask for help, but sometimes you have to take it when it's offered."

"I appreciate what you're saying, but I'm getting a handle on it. I'll be fine. I'm more concerned about you, Mason."

"You really think someone is coming after me?"

"There's a good possibility."

"Did you talk to Hank?"

"I did. We're supposed to meet up at seven tonight to talk further. You could come. It might be good for all of us to put our heads together."

"I don't think I can make it. I have another surgery tomorrow morning, and I have a lot of work to finish before then."

"You should make the time. This is important."

"So is my work. I need to hang on to this job."