Historical Fiction

Instead of the greedy rustle of stolen cash, the sound that broke the silence was… careful. It was the soft shuffle of feet on the antique rug, then the sound of paper being touched—not snatched, but gently moved. I cracked one eyelid open, just a fraction of a millimeter. The world was a blurry line…

Chapter 1: The Silence   My hands were shaking. I stood in the grand, marble-floored entrance hall of my own home, the front door still open behind me, letting in the cold, wet Greenwich night. My suit, an $8,000 custom-tailored piece, was soaked through. I’d just stepped off a 22-hour flight from Singapore, my mind…

The last thing I saw before I blacked out was my brother, Daniel, checking his watch. “Just make sure it’s done,” he said, his voice bored, as if he were discussing a late shipment. “And clean up the mess. I’m the sole beneficiary now.” The two men he’d hired nodded. The one holding my head…

The 10:00 PM quiet had a weight to it. The kind of quiet that settles over a neighborhood that’s given up, where every stray cat and rattling exhaust pipe sounds like a gunshot. Jake knew that sound. He knew the grit under his fingernails that would never wash out, the smell of grease and coolant…

The train pulled out of the station, and the mother’s scream was finally swallowed by the tunnel. The girl’s face, which had been pressed to the glass, crumpled. It was the moment she realized the train wasn’t stopping. She was really, truly, alone. Her cry was silent at first, just a painful, desperate intake of…

He was in construction, he said. “Was,” he’d emphasized, the word hanging in the dead air between us. “Tough industry,” I’d offered, fishing for more. “Tougher when your wife gets sick.” He looked away, his jaw tight. “You miss a few shifts, then a few weeks. Next thing you know, ‘tough industry’ doesn’t have a…

The first hour, I made excuses for him. Maybe he forgot something critical at the venue. Maybe a family member had too much to drink and needed help getting to their car. A work emergency? On a Saturday? At 11 PM? It was unlikely, but I let my mind go there because the alternatives were…

The next day—Tuesday, since everything was closed for Christmas—was the first day of the war. Mitch met me at the courthouse. I’d had to wake Melody, who had clung to me, terrified I was taking her back. “We’re just going to talk to some people, sweetheart,” I’d said, my voice hoarse from lack of sleep….

The interrogation, because that’s what it was, didn’t happen in a police station. It happened in a room that looked like a museum. Alexander—or “Mr. Alexander,” as I was trying to call him—sat across from me. He had changed into a crisp shirt and slacks, but his hair was still wild, and his eyes were…

I’ve learned that there are two kinds of cold. The first is the easy kind, the wet, October chill that was seeping through the glass of the ‘Cedar & Steam’ cafe. It was just an inconvenience. It made my tea go cold faster and gave me an excuse to leave. The second kind of cold……

The officer’s barracks, Complex C, was all red brick and manicured landscaping, a perfect picture of military order. I entered through the service entrance, my instincts immediately cataloging the security features, the access points, the layout. It was automatic, a reflex honed over years of tactical assessment, not cleaning. The inside was what you’d expect…

The air at 4:30 in the morning has a specific taste. At Naval Base Coronado, it was salt, diesel, and failure. My failure. The floodlights cut the pre-dawn mist, turning the gravel track into a pale, ghostly ribbon. Thirty of them stood in formation, thirty SEAL candidates, their breath fogging and vanishing in the humid…