Homecoming, p.1
Homecoming, page 1
Praise for Homecoming
Case Younger is my kind of character…beleaguered, put upon, and ready to put it all on the line, no matter the cost, to save those he cares about. Gary Quesenberry’s Homecoming came to me as a recommendation, and I’m really glad I took the time to read it. It’s a taut, action-packed, high-stakes thriller that would be in perfect company with the best elements of the Jack Reacher series or television’s Justified (two of my favorites). They say you can never really go home, and for Homecoming’s central character, Case Younger, this is definitely the case…except for Younger, there is no choice in the matter. I won’t give away anything (you’ll have to read it!), but let’s just say it may bring out the worst in him (something he’s worked hard to suppress). But if he is going to save his family and town, that may be his only option. Personally, I love flawed characters with few options and hard choices. Homecoming has all of this and more. What a fantastic debut novel by Gary Quesenberry. I can’t wait to read the rest of the series as it comes out!
—Jude Gerard Prest, CEO, LifeLike Productions Inc. (executive producer/showrunner/director/writer)
A real page-turner for first-time novelist Gary Quesenberry. Homecoming is a riveting story with exceptional character development. Case Younger’s demons of anger and guilt fuel his desire to be a better man and to protect his hometown, a worthy challenge even for a former Federal Air Marshal. I found myself rooting for Case, and you will, too!
—Liz Lazarus, author Free of Malice, Plea for Justice, and Shades of Silence
In the action-packed thriller Homecoming by Gary Quesenberry, adrenaline meets intrigue in a high-stakes battle of good versus evil. When former Air Marshal Case Younger returns to his hometown, seeking to reconnect with family and friends, he uncovers a sinister plot that threatens not only his loved ones but also the entire community. With time running out, Case must rely on his combat skills and resourcefulness to unravel the conspiracy and confront a formidable adversary.
As the action intensifies, alliances are tested, an old rivalry resumes, and loyalties are questioned. Case races against the clock with every twist and turn, determined to save those he holds dear and bring justice to those who seek to destroy everything he holds sacred.
Homecoming is a gripping, pulse-pounding rollercoaster ride of danger and suspense, where every moment counts and every decision could mean life or death.
—Alan Mack, retired US Army CW5, author of Razor 03, A Night Stalker’s Wars
Gary Quesenberry’s debut Homecoming is a thriller reminiscent of Taylor Moore’s Garret Kohl series and Ryan Steck’s Matthew Redd saga. Packed with action and heart, it kicks off at a fast pace and maintains its tempo through a dramatic conclusion. Quesenberry’s experience as a retired Air Marshal resonates and brings an authenticity to his writing only a former practitioner can offer. In Homecoming he touches upon the all-to-real domestic threat of drug and human trafficking, and how one man struggling with his own demons will risk everything to protect those he loves. Timely and thoroughly enjoyable. Gary Quesenberry is one to watch.
—Delbert Roll, MAJ (Ret.), United States Army, CIA Operations Officer (Ret.)
Nonfiction books by Gary Quesenberry:
Spotting Danger Before It Spots You
Spotting Danger Before It Spots Your Kids
Spotting Danger Before It Spots Your Teens
Spotting Danger for Travelers
YMAA Publication Center, Inc.
PO Box 480
Wolfeboro, NH 03894
1-800-669-8892 • www.ymaa.com • info@ymaa.com
ISBN 9781594398650 (print)
ISBN 9781594398674 (hardcover)
ISBN 9781594398667 (ebook)
© 2025 by Gary Quesenberry
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Edited by: Leslie Takao
Cover Design: Axie Breen
20241227
Publisher’s Cataloging in Publication
Names: Quesenberry, Gary, author.
Title: Homecoming : a Case Younger thriller / Gary Quesenberry.
Description: Wolfeboro, NH USA : YMAA Publication Center, [2025]
Identifiers: ISBN: 9781594398650 (paperback) | 9781594398674 (hardcover) | 9781594398667 (ebook) | LCCN: 2024946315
Subjects: LCSH: Sky marshals--Fiction. | Home--United States--Fiction. | Undercover operations-- United States--Fiction. | Conspiracies--United States--Fiction. | Political crimes and offenses-- United States--Fiction. | Justice--Fiction. | Suspense fiction.| LCGFT: Thrillers (Fiction) | Detective and mystery fiction.| BISAC: FICTION / Thrillers / Crime. | FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Hard-Boiled. | FICTION / Small Town & Rural.
Classification: LCC: PS3617.U48 H66 2025 | DDC: 813/.6--dc23
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Printed in USA.
To those who never made it home.
“No man steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river, and he is not the same man.”
—Heraclitus
PROLOGUE
The young girl leaned against the warm red brick of the Cook County Middle School sign, texting her mom. Ever since those girls from Floyd County disappeared, it felt like she couldn’t cross the street without her mom wanting to know about it.
“Hey Mom, waiting for Hope and Melissa. Be home in 20.”
After hitting send, she considered texting her dad, but it had been six months since he’d responded to anything she sent him. The thought made her both sad and angry. Not wanting to tip herself into a foul mood, she began her usual soothing routine, scrolling through funny Instagram reels and cute cat videos on TikTok—random nonsense custom-tailored to keep her attention focused solely on the tiny screen in front of her and away from the harsh realities of her life in Pikesville. It wasn’t much, but it was better than smoking that chemical shit her dad had turned to before he left. Lost in this digital world, she didn’t notice the storm clouds gathering in the sky above her head or the black van as it slowed to a stop in front of her.
“Excuse me, miss.”
The unexpected interruption startled the girl, and she looked up just as the first drop of rain splashed against her phone. The man was lean and handsome, with chiseled features and slicked-back hair. He looked rugged, like one of the MMA guys her dad used to watch on TV.
“Hey,” he said, leaning out the window. “I’m looking for Jefferson Street. For some reason Google Maps isn’t taking me there. Could you maybe point me in the right direction?”
“Yeah. I live on Jefferson. It’s three blocks up on the left.”
“Oh, good. I’m close. Thank you—um, sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
She paused. She didn’t recognize the man, but his easy smile helped put her at ease.
“It’s Tammy.”
“Hello, Tammy. You waiting for somebody?”
“My friends.”
The man looked up. “You think they’ll make it before the storm hits? Looks like it’s gonna be a downpour.”
“It’ll be okay. They shouldn’t be long.”
“You need a ride? I don’t mind at all. I’d hate to see you get soaked waiting out here.”
Tammy blushed at the offer. “No thank you. I don’t have far to go.”
“You sure? We’re headed to the same place,” he said, pointing his finger up Main Street.
“I’ll be okay. I appreciate the offer, though.”
The man nodded. “Okay then. Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said. But Tammy noticed a change in the way he smiled—a subtle turn from friendly to frightening. It was enough to give her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “You be safe out here, okay, sweetheart,” he said before pulling away slowly.
Tammy watched as the van made its way down Main Street and did her best to rationalize the uneasy feeling she’d gotten from the man. Probably just a lost deliveryman, she thought, as she looked back at her phone and began tapping the keyboard.
“Hey, you guys coming, or what? It’s about to start pouring out here.”
“We’re still in the library with Miss Anderson,” Hope replied. “You go ahead. We’ll catch up.”
Exasperated, Tammy returned her attention to the video of a kitten struggling to climb a set of stairs as she slowly wandered down the sidewalk toward home.
* * *
Tammy didn’t notice the van again until it was too late. It was the thunder that caused her to look up, and when she did, the man was already on top of her, one hand gripped her tightly over her mouth and the other wrapped around her body like a vice, pinning her arms to her chest. He was strong, but she fought against him as hard as she could. When the van’s back doors swung open and she saw the skinny man with red hair holding a roll of silver duct tape she realized her fight was useless.
“You should have got in the fuckin’ van when I asked you to,” the man hissed in her ear. “Now I’m not going to be so nice.”
Before she knew it, the tape was across her mouth, her hands and feet were tied, and her head was covered with an old feed sack. The sweet smell of crushed oats and molasses was so out of place with what was happening to her that she felt like vomiting. Tammy was thrown violently into the van and she heard the doors slam shut. She could sense the man with red hair beside her, reeking o f stale sweat and cigarette smoke.
“Are you going to hurt me?” She mumbled tearfully into the blackness.
“No, darlin’, we won’t,” the red-haired man answered. “But where you’re headed, there are plenty of men who will.”
Too terrified to move, Tammy started to panic and question herself. Why was this happening? What had she done? Was this all just some elaborate prank? Her mind was a jumble of terror and confusion, recording what seemed to be flashes of inconsequential information. The change from gravel to pavement as the van turned off Jefferson and back onto Main Street. The sound of heavy rain beating against the roof of the van. Then, finally, the hum of a grated bridge as they passed the Cook County line and headed north through the Appalachian foothills.
PART ONE
ARRIVAL
CHAPTER 1
As American Airlines Flight 759 made its way over the lush green fields of central France, flight attendant Nika Barnes walked slowly along the Boeing 787’s narrow aisle completing her mid-flight safety checks. She was naturally pretty, standing barely five foot, four inches tall and slightly built, with long black hair pulled into a loose bun and big green eyes that flashed from her honey-brown skin. At twenty-nine years old, she was considerably younger than the other flight attendants, but her fluency in Greek had landed her the Athens-to-Philly route most of her peers worked decades to get. That age gap left her feeling somewhat ostracized. So, with no real friends onboard, she generally spent her downtime walking the aisles, checking in on passengers, and maintaining a comfortable distance from the rest of the crew.
As she worked her way from first class to coach, she briefly made eye contact with the man seated in 3A. He and four other air marshals had come aboard well before anyone else. He had shown his credentials and informed the crew that he and his team were there to protect the passengers. But in the event of a hijacking, their priority would always be the security of the flight deck. Four men and a woman, all polite and professional, but capable of decisive violence when called to act.
The man in 3A was handsome and looked to be in his mid to late thirties. At just over six feet tall, he was athletic but not overly muscular like some of the self-absorbed gym rats she’d dated in the past. As the other passengers slept soundly in the darkened cabin, he stayed awake, casually sipping a second cup of black coffee and flipping through the worn pages of a book about the Greco-Persian wars.
“More coffee, sir?”
“No thank you,” he said, “I’m good for now.”
In that brief moment, it wasn’t the man’s physical appearance or choice of reading material that Nika found most fascinating it was the cold indifference she sensed lurking behind his pale blue eyes. She wanted to say something else, perhaps something clever or flirtatious, but couldn’t find the words. So, she smiled shyly, turned away, and continued down the aisle.
* * *
Amir Abd Al-Rashid watched closely as the young flight attendant moved toward him. She was barely ten feet away now. Had anyone seated near him been paying attention, they may have noticed the tiny beads of sweat beginning to gather on his freshly shaven face, or the razor-sharp carbon fiber knife he slowly removed from the hidden compartment in his bag. But no one noticed. How could they? Amir knew without a doubt that his mission would be a success. Before leaving Athens, his Imam had instilled in him the fiery conviction of war and, upon the completion of his mission, promised him a seat next to Muhammad in the seventh level of heaven.
Your mission is the will of Allah, and upon its completion, all the angels of paradise will sing your name.
In the beginning, there had been moments when Amir questioned the validity of his assignment, but he understood now how his ignorance had kept him from seeing the bigger picture. He remembered his childhood—the stories he’d heard about the heroic defenders from his village and how they’d fought like beasts against the Russian invaders. He also remembered the loneliness and isolation he felt after losing his father during the war. All those men were with Allah now. The invaders fled, and peace had been restored, but today a new threat existed. Amir’s Imam had opened his eyes to the cycle of violence that plagued his country. Starting with the Greeks in 330 BCE, then the Mongols, followed by the British, Russians, and now the Americans. All of them were driven solely by greed and power. They kept his kinsmen from thriving and stood in the way of a world governed by the one true religion. Amir and his family were destined to suffer in poverty until the infidels were eliminated, the califate established, and order brought to the homeland. That meant fighting was no longer just an option. It was a necessity. Jihad, in the name of Allah, would pull his family out of the slums and ensure his place in heaven. It was time. Amir gave one last look around. “Allahu Akbar,” he whispered as he tightened his grip on the knife, stood from his seat, and lunged toward the unsuspecting flight attendant.
* * *
Rebecca Porter stood and stretched her legs in the mid-galley between first class and coach. Her blonde ponytail spilled over her shoulder as she hooked her fingers beneath her shoes and pulled herself forward. She often worried about developing deep vein thrombosis due to the long hours packed into a small seat. She had heard stories about an air marshal who almost died because of a blood clot, so she kept herself in good physical shape and made it a point to stand and stretch for ten minutes every hour. It wasn’t much, but it kept her awake and alert. Rebecca positioned herself near the right-side aisle, where she had a good line of sight on her teammates. Ross and Matt occupied seats in the main cabin, with Gavin covering the rear. She unlocked her phone and shot a quick text to Case, the team leader in Seat 3A.
We’re all good back here, boss. How’s life up front?
She liked Case. He was a professional and, from what she could tell, a good man in general. Rumors circulated around the office that he had problems controlling his temper, but she’d never seen it. He just seemed to her like a very private person—one she’d like to know better. It took her several weeks to talk him into dinner. One evening on a trip to Paris, she convinced him to join her at the Le Comptoir du 5ème, a small café on the Seine River across from the cathedral of Notre-Dame. They shared a bottle of wine while she tried to extract some personal information, but even after a few drinks his defenses were up. All she learned was that both his parents had passed away years ago. He did eight years in the army—a ranger. He had a brother back home in Virginia but hadn’t been back in almost a decade, and he’d only been in one serious relationship his whole life. One he thought would lead to marriage but didn’t. That was about it. Whenever she’d ask Case a question, he’d deflect and want to know something else about her. It was infuriating but also very endearing.
They’d spent a lot of time together once he finally loosened up. He’d even met her family and attended their last 4th of July cookout. Case hit it off well with her dad, Cliff, and the two of them spoke as if they’d known each other for years. Her little sister Mary followed Case around like a lost puppy while her mother showered him with questions.
“So, Case, you’ve never married?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Why on earth not? You seem like quite the catch. With that Southern charm—I’m sure plenty of women would have said yes.”
Case smiled, “I appreciate that, ma’am. Maybe I’ll settle down one of these days,” he said looking at Rebecca, who smiled sheepishly and splashed her feet in the pool.
“Mom, don’t you think he’s had enough of the questions already?”
“Nonsense. You know, Case, Rebecca’s still single.”
“Jesus, Mom!” Rebecca shouted. “He’s my training officer and my friend. Would you please just leave him alone?”
“I’m just saying. You’re not getting any younger, darling, and if Case here is still on the market, you should strike while the iron’s hot.”
“Mom!”
Everyone laughed, including Mary, even though she didn’t really know what she was laughing about. Case walked off with Cliff, which left Rebecca alone to wonder what life with him would be like outside of work. Given the nature of their job, would that be allowed? Or would he even be interested?
