Chapter 4 - The Man Above Richard
Rear Admiral Jonathan Vance denied calling me.
Not casually.
Officially.
Within forty minutes of my report, his attorney contacted federal investigators and stated that Vance had been inside a Pentagon conference room with nine witnesses when the call occurred.
Phone records initially supported him.
His device had not called mine.
But voices can be recorded.
Spoofed.
Copied.
Manipulated.
Or another phone could be used.
For the first time, the case became bigger than my family.
I hated that.
I wanted Richard to be the whole monster.
There is comfort in one villain.
One person to blame.
One person to remove.
One door to lock.
But systems don't work that way.
Neither do families.
Naomi placed me under temporary protective status.
Two armed security personnel remained outside my quarters.
Marcus checked in every few hours.
My duty status was suspended medically, which I resented until I tried walking quickly down a hallway and nearly folded from rib pain.
I was ordered to rest.
So naturally, I investigated.
From bed.
With permission that existed mostly in my imagination.
I searched everything public about Atlantic Meridian Logistics.
Ownership records led to shell entities.
Shell entities led to addresses.
One address matched an equipment company Richard had owned for eight months.
Another belonged to Thomas Bell.
That stopped me.
Thomas wasn't just an accountant.
He had been part owner of a company linked to the contracts.
I sent the information to Naomi.
She called immediately.
"Where did you find this?"
"Public state records."
"You're supposed to be resting."
"I'm resting aggressively."
She sighed.
"Thomas Bell is now a person of interest."
"My mother trusted him."
"Apparently."
"Or pretended to."
"What do you mean?"
I thought about my mother's phone call.
Thomas isn't who he said he was.
Maybe she hadn't discovered that after leaving.
Maybe she had known all along and used him anyway.
My mother had survived twenty-three years with Richard.
People called her passive.
They underestimated her.
Maybe I had too.
At noon, the FBI recovered security footage from the Richmond motel.
My mother and Thomas had left together.
No visible coercion.
Thirty minutes later, Thomas returned alone.
He carried a black laptop case he hadn't had before.
Then he drove away.
The plate on his car belonged to a vehicle reported stolen two weeks earlier.
"Professional," Marcus said.
"Or terrified."
"Could be both."
I studied a still frame.
Thomas was in his fifties.
Balding.
Glasses.
Forgettable.
Exactly the kind of face that disappears in a crowd.
"What happened to him after?"
"Traffic camera caught the vehicle heading north."
"And Mom?"
"No footage."
By late afternoon, Richard changed lawyers.
His new attorney was expensive.
Very expensive.
I recognized the firm from national news.
"Richard can't afford them," I said.
Naomi agreed.
"Someone else is paying."
"Who?"
"We're tracing it."
"Will they tell you?"
"No."
"Convenient."
At five, Richard finally agreed to talk about the contracts.
Not because his conscience woke up.
Because federal prosecutors showed him potential charges that could put him in prison for decades.
He asked for immunity.
They refused.
He asked for reduced charges.
They said cooperate first.
So he spoke.
Naomi briefed me afterward.
"Richard says he was recruited seven years ago by Thomas Bell."
I blinked.
"Thomas?"
"According to Richard, Bell approached small contractors who could create legitimate invoices and subcontractor records."
"For what?"
"Inflated government procurement."
"Fake work?"
"Some fake. Some real but overpriced. Some duplicated."
"And my name?"
"Richard claims he never submitted your name."
I laughed bitterly.
"Convenient."
"Maybe. But he says Bell showed him paperwork with your signature already attached."
"Who added it?"
"He doesn't know."
"Does he know Mercer?"
"Richard says yes."
My stomach tightened.
"How?"
"Mercer visited one of the contracting sites four years ago."
"That's normal oversight."
"Could be."
"Did they speak?"
"Yes."
"Then Mercer lied."
Naomi didn't correct me.
"Richard claims Mercer told him certain invoices would be approved as long as documentation matched."
"That sounds bad."
"It also sounds exactly like something Richard would say to shift blame."
Everything had two explanations.
That was becoming unbearable.
"What about Vance?"
"Richard says he never met him."
"But he knows the name?"
"Everyone in that contracting network did."
"Why?"
Naomi hesitated.
"Because Bell used it."
"Used it how?"
"As reassurance."
Rear Admiral Vance approves the structure.
Vance knows.
Vance protects the program.
Whether any of it was true remained unknown.
Then Naomi told me something that made my hands go cold.
"When Richard went to your apartment, he was looking for a thumb drive."
"My mother's drive."
"Yes."
"He thought she sent it to me."
"Yes."
"Who told him?"
"He won't say."
"Why?"
"He's afraid."
I almost laughed again.
"Richard doesn't get afraid."
"He is now."
"Of Bell?"
"He won't say."
At seven, I demanded to speak to Richard.
Naomi refused.
I demanded again.
She refused better.
Then Richard himself requested a recorded call.
Under supervision, they allowed it.
His face appeared on a secure video screen.
He looked older than he had two nights before.
For the first time in my life, Richard Lawson looked small.
"Where's my mother?"
"I don't know."
"Wrong answer."
"I don't."
"You attacked me for a drive."
He looked away.
"Who told you I had it?"
"I can't tell you."
"Then we're done."
"Ava."
I reached toward the disconnect button.
"They'll kill her."
My hand stopped.
"Who?"
"If they think she copied everything."
"Who?"
Richard swallowed.
"You don't understand what Bell got us into."
"You got yourself into it."
"I was trying to keep the business alive."
"You forged contracts."
"I didn't forge yours."
"Then who did?"
"I don't know."
"Who sent you to my apartment?"
Silence.
"Richard."
"I got a call."
"From?"
"Blocked."
"What did they say?"
"That your mother had sent the drive to you."
"And?"
"That I had until morning to recover it."
"Or what?"
His eyes changed.
"They'd turn over everything tying me to the contracts."
"So you broke into my apartment to save yourself."
"I was angry."
"You beat me."
His face tightened.
"I know."
Not sorry.
Not yet.
Just aware.
"Who was the caller?"
"I told you, I don't know."
"Male? Female?"
"Male."
"Voice?"
"Distorted."
"What exactly did he say?"
Richard closed his eyes.
Then repeated it.
"Your daughter has the Bell archive. Get it before the Navy does."
The Bell archive.
Not my mother's records.
Bell's archive.
Thomas Bell hadn't merely helped maintain the scheme.
He may have built the record of it.
"Why did you panic when my distress signal went off?"
Richard opened his eyes.
There it was again.
Fear.
"Because of the alert?"
"Yes."
He shook his head.
"No."
"Then why?"
"Because I recognized the sound."
I leaned toward the screen.
"From where?"
Richard looked toward someone off-camera.
His attorney objected.
Richard ignored him.
"Three years ago, Bell played me a recording."
"What recording?"
"That exact alert."
My skin prickled.
"Why?"
"He said if I ever heard it, everything was over."
"What did that mean?"
"He never told me."
I stared at Richard.
Suddenly the alert sounded less like rescue and more like a trigger.
"What else did Bell say?"
Richard hesitated.
Then whispered:
"He said the first officer who responded would know what to do."
My mind went immediately to Marcus.
Then Mercer.
Then the security officers.
The first officer through my doorway had been Petty Officer James Cole.
A security specialist I barely knew.
"Richard, are you sure?"
"Yes."
The call ended.
I contacted Naomi.
She was already moving.
Within minutes, investigators pulled the security response logs.
Petty Officer Cole had entered my apartment first.
He had stayed exactly four minutes.
Then he'd left to "secure the corridor."
He had not returned.
At 7:43 p.m., Naomi called his unit.
Cole had failed to report for duty.
His phone was off.
His apartment was empty.
But on his desk, investigators found one envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Inside was a storage key.
May you like
And one handwritten sentence:
I TOOK THE WRONG THING FROM YOUR APARTMENT BEFORE ANYONE ELSE SAW IT.
