Page 139 of Think Twice

“On him,” Myron repeated.

“Yes.”

“On my son. You ran an extensive background check on my son.”

Win put a black long-sleeved shirt over his head. “Is this how we are going to do this?”

Myron said nothing.

“You say he’s your son, I remind you that it’s only biological, that you barely know him, you say that doesn’t matter, that I should have asked you before I did anything like this, I say there is no harm in doing a background check, that if I found nothing you would be none the wiser, you say yes but you should have, I interrupt you and remind you that there is no one on this planet I care about more than you, that I would never do anything to harm you, that whatever I do, I do to protect you because I love you. Is that how we are going to have to play this?”

Myron shook his head. “You’re something.”

“I am. Can we skip past all that now?”

Myron nodded. “We can. But one thing first.”

“Go on.”

“You gave up Bo without telling me. Then you did a background check on Jeremy without telling me. This keeping things from me—it needs to stop.”

Win considered that. “You are correct. I will stop.”

Nothing more bizarre than a reasonable Win. “So tell me what you found,” Myron said.

“Jeremy did indeed serve in the military in various elite and clandestine divisions. Just as he told us. But he was discharged three years ago.”

“Voluntarily?”

“I don’t know yet. This is the top echelon of our military apparatus. There is intentional misdirection and confusion in any kind of records.”

“So maybe he’s still there,” Myron said. “Maybe saying he was discharged is a cover.”

“It could be,” Win said.

“But you don’t think so.”

“His discharge wasn’t announced. I had to dig deep to find it.”

Win picked up a barbell and started to do Zottman curls. The up move is a standard bicep curl, but then you flip your wrist so that the downward move, slow and under control, works the forearms.

“Jeremy also lives in New Orleans under the pseudonym Paul Simpson. ‘Paul’ works in IT at a Dillard’s department store in nearby Gretna.”

“Again: Could be a cover,” Myron said.

“Again: Could be indeed. I draw no conclusions. We report, you decide.”

Myron frowned. “You did not just say that.”

“I wish I hadn’t now that I think about it. Either way, Kabir will continue to dig unless you tell me to call him off.”

Myron thought about it. “There’s probably nothing to this.”

“Then there’s no reason not to continue,” Win said. His watch vibrated. He checked it. “Sadie just landed.”

“You loaned her your plane?”

“Not loaned. Chartered. I will bill her for it, and she in turn will bill Greg Downing.”