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assignment in Afghanistan hadn’t left any permanent damage to their marriage.
Nine months after his return, their twin daughters were born and everything changed. Maggie, who’d once reveled in making a name for herself in the corporate world, found everything she wanted in motherhood.
When the girls were seven, he’d been assigned the position of deputy chief of mission at the U.S. Embassy in the RD. The hardship pay and adventure of a new place had seemed worth it at first. But the novelty of living in a peaceful country had recently been replaced by not only the current turmoil facing the government, but also the fact that the ambassador was currently out of the country, making him the acting chief of mission. And he had no idea when he was going to be able to leave.
He sneezed, willing the congestion in his lungs to vanish. Or if nothing else, for the cold medicine to numb his heart. Picking up the phone, he hesitated, then jammed the receiver back in the cradle. While he couldn’t blame her, Maggie’s ultimatum couldn’t have come at a worse time. Daily reports from the government continued to downplay the situation brought on by the attempted assassination of the president two months ago — an act that had plunged the country into political chaos. And just when he thought everything was settling down again, the legendary Ghost Soldiers had come forward with demands of amnesty for the leaders who’d been arrested three weeks ago.
He took another sip of his coffee before shoving the bitter drink aside. Everyone hoped the situation would be resolved as soon as possible, but he knew how quickly circumstances like this could spiral out of control. Rebel soldiers had put the entire country—and himself — in a precarious position and a quick resolution wasn’t likely.
Sighing, he glanced at the photo of the twins propped up on his desk and ran his finger across the silver frame. He had tickets to return to the States on Friday, but he’d yet to tell Maggie that more than likely he’d have to postpone the trip. Not that she wanted to see him. She’d made it quite clear that unless he resigned from his post immediately, she was filing for divorce.
Despite everything that had happened between them, he still missed her like crazy and wished they were here. The girls turned nine next week and in January had started third grade at the local elementary school down the road from his parents. A thread of helplessness wound its way through him. With hundreds of lives potentially at stake it didn’t seem fair to have to decide between his country and his wife and children, but the life he’d picked had been full of unfair choices.
Isaac knocked on the open door, then plopped a stack of folders onto the edge of his desk. “Mercy asked me to drop these off and tell you she is being bombarded with calls from expats wanting to know if rumors of rebels raiding villages and slaughtering villagers in the north are true.”
“How did my Foreign Service National investigator get drafted into the role of gopher?”
Isaac’s smile broadened. “That’s a good question, sir.”
Paul flipped through the stack of folders Isaac had given him. As a Foreign Service National investigator, Isaac was the head liaison between the embassy and the RD’s security and law enforcement. He’d become Paul’s right-hand man from day one of his assignment, especially with the ambassador out of the country. “I’ve got an e-mail box full of the same thing, despite your government’s assurances to the contrary.”
“You sound as if you do not believe them.”
“To be honest, I’m not sure what to believe. They might be labeling the death of the American aid worker this morning as a misfortunate accident, but it’s hard to know who’s telling the truth, especially when no one will give me a straight answer.” Paul pushed the folders to the edge of his desk. Any nonessential operational issues would have to be dealt with later. “The