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The gravel crunched beneath my tires as I guided my car down the familiar, overgrown lane toward Grandma's farmhouse. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches of the massive oak that had stood sentinel over the property for generations. I parked beside it, just as I always had during those childhood summers when this place had been my only real home. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. I wasn't ready for this—to face the emptiness, to acknowledge that she was truly gone. The modest white farmhouse with its wraparound porch looked exactly as it always had, deceptively unchanged. Only I knew what secrets it held beneath its weathered clapboards: the hidden communications hub of Safe Harbor, the classified intelligence operation I managed remotely for Homeland Security. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. This was supposed