Detroit, Michigan

James Kinchloe turned the knob on the radio.

"Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream," The Chordettes sang.

Kinch nodded with satisfaction as he shut the radio off again. Another job done. Grabbing the radio, he set it down next to the other completed projects. He filled out the repair order tag and made a note to call the Browns after lunch.

The thought of lunch caused Kinch to check his watch. 10:00. Lunch was a long way off, but Kinch's stomach growled anyway. He debated whether he should dive into his bagged lunch now and then head over to Dina's later. What kind of pie was Dina serving today? Apple? Yes, Saturdays were apple pie days.

"You're getting soft, Kinch," he said to himself. How many times had he endured hunger during the war? Surely he could hold off for another couple of hours. Ignoring the rumbling in his stomach, Kinch pulled over a toaster and went to work. It was fairly straightforward, so he let his mind wander back to the war and his life after it.

The war had been the most stressful time of his life. His radio had been both a curse and a blessing—sometimes it brought the most horrific news imaginable or the most dangerous jobs, and other times it announced much-needed relief and even salvation. There were times when he thought if he had to spend one more second around a radio, he would scream and never want to look at one again.

After the war, his life felt jumbled and confusing. He went back to the phone company but didn't feel any sense of fulfillment. He didn't know what it was—maybe he just missed the weight of responsibility. Maybe he didn't like being just a number and a faceless employee clocking in and out every day. Maybe he felt he lacked purpose.

Whatever the reason, he had scraped together every penny—thanks to Colonel Hogan, he had been given a promotion along with every cent owed to him for all the work he had done at Stalag 13 at that new rank—and had opened his own appliance shop. Radios, apparently, were the only things that made sense to him during that uncertain phase of his life, and he found comfort in his work. It took a while for business to pick up, but thanks to his hard work and reputation for honesty and quality repairs, his little shop had become a fixture in the neighbourhood. Folks occasionally bought new appliances, but mostly he relied on repair work. Together, it was enough to keep the lights on and that was enough for him.

A ringing bell in the next room informed him that someone had entered the shop. Kinch set down his tools and was about to get up when he heard a voice.

"Dad?"

"Back here!" he called. A moment later, his thirteen-year-old stepson, Richard, came in. "Hey," he greeted as he set back to work.

"Hey. Aunt Dina caught me and sent this over," Richard said. He set a box on the table and opened it. Inside were two pieces of apple pie.

Kinch grinned. Dina was always looking after him. It was probably a good thing they never married because he was sure he would have gained a hundred pounds if he had. "She must have read my mind," Kinch said. "Here." Abandoning the toaster, Kinch pulled open a drawer and pulled out two forks. "Mind you don't get crumbs over everything."

"Cool."

"Yeah. Cool," Kinch chuckled.

Richard hopped onto a stool and stabbed the pie. He popped a bit into his mouth and reached over to turn on the closest radio. Sh'boom filled the room. As he ate, Richard hummed a few bars.

"Did you finish your paper route?" Kinch asked as he took a forkful of pie.

"Yep. I just stopped by to see if you needed help with anything, but I can't stay too long. Gotta study for my math test."

"Good kid. Hey, how did that chemistry test go?"

"Ah, okay, I guess. I got ninety-five percent."

Kinch grinned widely, clapped Richard on the shoulder, and shook him. Richard was trying to appear nonchalant, but he couldn't quite hide his smile. "Well, how about that!" Kinch explained. "My son, the genius!"

"I did all right," Richard replied with a shrug, but now he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"All right?" Kinch echoed incredulously. "You keep that up, and you'll really go places!"

Richard's mood instantly shifted, and he frowned. "Yeah, maybe," he grumbled before going back to his homework.

Kinch frowned too. He had been spoiled at Stalag 13. Hogan wasn't a man who focused on a man's race but rather his abilities. And he had found Kinch to be the perfect man for the job. He'd quelled any resistance to the idea and had made Kinch a permanent fixture on his team. Actually, not just a part of his team but the second in command. And the others just accepted it. Accepted him.

It had set him up for severe disappointment. He had really thought the war would be a springboard for change. He thought that people would see the devotion and sacrifice of thousands upon thousands of black soldiers—soldiers like Richard's father who had valiantly served and died—and would finally start seeing them as fellow Americans, patriots, and equals in the never-ending pursuit of freedom and peace.

It had been uncharacteristically naїve of him. America, it seemed, had fallen back to old habits—not that she had ever left them behind. The country was sick of war—sick of conflict and strife. And she was all too eager to sweep under the rug anything that would prevent her from pressing forward into a future of unprecedented prosperity. By and large, there was just no appetite for civil unrest or for upending the status quo. Back to peace. Back to normal. And then the Cold War with the Russians heated up over in Korea and it was all hands on deck. No time for change at home. Although Kinch was happy to see that at least the armed forces had integrated.

"Look, Richard, I know it's tough, but—" The phone cut him off with a shrill ring. Kinch ignored it. "Things are going to change. You'll see. And—"

Richard ignored him, wiped his mouth, and got up to grab the phone. "Kinchloe Appliance Shop," he answered. "Yeah. Just a sec." Richard handed the phone to Kinch and then ducked under the long cord to sit back down. He tapped his fork a few times on his pie and then got up. "I'm gonna go dust the showroom."

"Richard—"

"Just take the phone call, Dad," Richard said before heading onto the sales floor.

Kinch sighed but decided their conversation could wait for a moment until he had dealt with his phone call. "Hello, sorry about that wait. How may I help you?"

"Is this… Kinch?" a watery female voice asked. Kinch knit his brow together. Not a lot of people called him Kinch, and of those who did, none were women.

"It is. What can I do for you today, ma'am?"

"Kinch, I don't know if you remember… we met… it's Lucy Carter. Andrew Carter is my husband."

"Oh sure," Kinch said. His memory conjured up the image from several years ago of a pretty dark-haired woman in a wedding dress. But why was she calling him? There was a quiver in her voice that told him she was holding back tears, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Something was wrong. Had Carter finally blown himself up?

"Is everything all right?" he asked tentatively. "Is Car—Andrew okay?"

She sucked in a shaky breath, but it wasn't enough, and she started to sob. Kinch waited patiently, his stomach tying itself into knots. It took a few minutes for her to get herself back under control and the whole time Kinch was imagining the worst.

"I need you to find Colonel Hogan."

"The colonel?" Kinch said, furrowing his brow. He hadn't spoken to the colonel in a few years. Last Kinch had heard, he was heading deep undercover somewhere in East Germany. "I don't… Why? What's going on?"

Her breath hitched again, but she didn't cry. "Last night… this… this man came to the house. A… a Major Hochstetter?"

Kinch's heart instantly froze, and his throat tightened. "What?!"

"He took Andy! He said he wanted to use him to get to Colonel Hogan. I don't know where he took him. I don't know what's even going on! And I don't— I don't—" the pitch of her voice went up before she burst into tears again. She took a few quick breaths. "I'm sorry. I—I just had a baby and I can't think straight and I was up half the night with worry and I haven't gotten much sleep and I don't mean to keep crying but—"

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay," Kinch said quickly. "You don't have to apologize at all!" After all, her husband had just been kidnapped. And not just by anyone, but by Major Hochstetter. If that wasn't cause for crying, he didn't know what was. "Just take your time and tell me everything."

Kinch opened his drawer, pulled out several pairs of socks, and tossed them into his suitcase. His wife, Violet, stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with their baby boy on her hip.

"You're going where?" she asked skeptically.

"North Dakota," he told her again as he quickly moved to his tie rack and grabbed a few to go into the case.

"Right, of course. North Dakota. Where else would you go in such a hurry? And for how long, exactly?" she asked.

"For as long as it takes, I guess," he replied. Kinch suspected it wouldn't be a very long trip, one way or another. Hochstetter wanted to be found. After all, that had been the whole point of taking Carter in the first place—to lure Colonel Hogan into some sort of trap. He couldn't do that if he stayed hidden indefinitely.

He had spent the morning and early afternoon trying desperately to reach Colonel Hogan any way he could. The colonel had left him with a number in Washington before he had disappeared, but the man who answered was pretty tight-lipped and couldn't promise to contact Hogan. He hit a wall at every other turn—even contacting the colonel's mother hadn't given him any clues. Although she had informed him that Hogan's son, Bernard, had recently received a late Christmas present—unfortunately without any return address.

Kinch hadn't had any more luck in tracking down Newkirk, either. He suspected the Englishman was also in on the spy game, though that had never been confirmed. But he had managed to reach his sister who promised to do what she could to get ahold of him. Then he had placed a call to LeBeau, hoping he would have better luck, seeing as he was at least on the same continent. LeBeau had been shocked to hear the story and had promised to not only track down the other two members of their former team but also to fly out as soon as he was able.

Kinch himself was in a bit of shock, even hours after hearing the news. Major Hochstetter. It was like a ghost from the past had risen from the grave to haunt them. He wasn't surprised that the Major had survived the war. Even with the Allies on Hammelburg's doorstep, Hochstetter had managed to slip away. The colonel had spent a good amount of time trying to track him down but hadn't turned up anything. They all suspected Hochstetter had fled to another country—possibly somewhere in South America. And there had been more to worry about than a fugitive Gestapo man, no matter how evil he was.

"But why do you have to go?"

"Because I do. It's Carter." More than that though, it was Hochstetter. If that madman was loose, if he had Carter, Kinch needed to do everything he could to help. "Look Vi," he said as he came over to her and put his hands on her hips. His son, Jesse swatted at his face. He caught the little hand in his mouth and nibbled it, causing Jesse to giggle and pull his hand away. "Vi, I don't know if I'll be any help. But I can't just sit here and do nothing. I never told you about…" Kinch hesitated. "This man—Hochstetter? He's bad news. And I've gotta do everything I can to stop him."

Violet looked into his eyes, searching them for more answers. Then, she sighed. "If you have to go then go. But, Jimmy, be safe. Folks out there…" She trailed off and bit her lip.

"I'll be okay," he promised. He gave her a quick kiss then checked his watch. "Look, Joe's waiting and I gotta get to the station. It's going to take me two days to get there as it is." God, he wished he had known sooner. What had Carter been going through while all this time was being wasted? He went over and shut his suitcase before lifting it off the bed. "Hank's gonna watch the shop, so you don't have to worry about that. And I asked Johnny to check in on you to make sure you have what you need here."

"Don't worry about us," Violet said. Kinch nodded. After all, she had been alone for years before she and Kinch had met. She knew how to take care of herself and her children without help. Not that she should have to, but Kinch knew he didn't have to worry too much about her. His wife was strong and capable.

"I'll call you when I get there," he said, giving her another kiss. "I love you."

Violet sighed and nodded. "I love you too. Be safe," she said again.

"I will."

She stepped aside so he could get past her. He stroked Jesse's hair as he went by. "Be good for your momma," he admonished. Jesse just blew a slobbery raspberry and chewed on his hand. Richard was waiting for him next to the front door. "Hey, you're in charge while I'm gone," Kinch told him. "You take care of everyone. And if there's trouble, you get your Uncle Johnny. Understand?"

"Yes sir," Richard said with a nod. "Only… Can I go with you?"

Kinch shook his head. "Not this time. This trip, it's… well, it probably won't be a lot of fun. Besides, your place is here. I'm counting on you to keep everyone safe. You're the man of the house again, see?"

"All right."

Kinch patted his shoulder. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised his family. They nodded and waved goodbye. Kinch gave a little wave of his own before heading out of the house and shutting the door behind him.

His friend, Joe, was waiting for him, leaning against his taxi. "Where you going again?" Joe asked as he opened the back seat for Kinch to store his luggage.

"North Dakota."

"The hell you gonna do there?" The two men got into the car.

"What I can," Kinch replied. He knew, of course, that the police were already involved and he wasn't sure they would appreciate his intrusion. In fact, he was almost one hundred percent positive that they would rebuff him. But if anyone was going to track down Hochstetter—to make him finally pay for everything he had done—then it ought to be someone from Stalag 13.

"All right, keep your secrets, Jimmy. You always were a bit of a mystery," Joe said with a shrug as he pulled the car away from the curb. "Just be safe there, okay."

"I will."

There were dangers enough waiting for him, but Kinch didn't care. He needed to go. And the sooner he got there, the better.

He just hoped, whatever Hochstetter planned on doing, that Carter could hold on until he found him.

All right, folks, I have half a chapter in the hopper, but I need to add another chapter before we get to it. After that, it's the Wild West and who knows where this story will go. But I'll keep working on it.