Chapter 2 - Number 317
Riley moved before Captain Hale could stop her.
She pulled the door open.
The corridor beyond was empty.
A metal stairwell door swung slowly at the far end.
"Stay behind me," Hale said.
"You don't know who's running."
"Neither do you."
"Exactly."
They reached the stairwell.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Only fluorescent lights humming above concrete steps.
Hale looked downward.
Riley looked upward.
A shadow disappeared across the landing above them.
"Up."
They climbed.
The fourth-floor landing opened onto an administrative hallway that should have been nearly empty at that hour.
A cleaning cart sat abandoned near the wall.
A brown folder rested on top.
Riley stopped.
"Captain."
Hale saw it.
Neither touched the folder immediately.
There was handwriting across the front.
QUINN.
Hale put on gloves from a pocket kit and opened it.
Inside was a single photocopied page.
An incident report.
The date was eighteen months earlier.
The complainant's name had been blacked out.
But the accused soldier had not.
SERGEANT COLE MERCER.
Riley read faster.
Unauthorized initiation.
Physical restraint.
Property destruction.
Threats.
The complaint had been closed forty-eight hours after submission.
Reason:
INSUFFICIENT CORROBORATION.
At the bottom was an approving signature.
Major Bradley Lawson.
Riley looked at Hale.
"The same Lawson who called you here?"
"Yes."
"Coincidence?"
"No."
Hale flipped the page.
On the back someone had written:
317 = THIRD FLOOR, LOCKER 17.
Riley stared at it.
"Barracks C doesn't have numbered lockers that way."
Hale's expression hardened.
"The old barracks does."
"What old barracks?"
"Building Twelve."
It had been condemned six months earlier after mold was discovered.
At least that was the official explanation.
Riley had seen the building while arriving.
Red tape across the entrance.
Windows covered.
"No one should be inside," Hale said.
"Which means someone probably is."
Hale folded the paper back into the folder.
"We're going through channels."
Riley looked at him.
"Hale."
"That's an order."
"You want to tell Major Lawson?"
Hale didn't answer.
"Because his signature is on the closed complaint."
"That's not proof he protected Mercer."
"It isn't proof he didn't."
Hale exhaled.
"I brought you here to observe."
"And now someone is sending me evidence."
"Which could be bait."
"Probably."
"You say that like you're excited."
"I'm not excited."
"You have the same face."
Riley touched the shaved side of her head.
"Maybe I have fewer facial options now."
Despite himself, Hale almost smiled.
Then his radio crackled.
Security had found Cole Mercer.
He hadn't left the building.
They discovered him inside a supply room on the first floor.
When Riley and Hale arrived, Cole was sitting on a wooden crate with two military police officers nearby.
He looked furious.
Not frightened.
That mattered.
Fear had been real when he saw the tag.
Whatever had happened since then had restored something.
Confidence.
Or protection.
Hale dismissed the MPs several feet away.
"Why'd you run?"
Cole looked at Riley.
"I didn't."
"We watched you leave."
"I needed air."
"Through a restricted service corridor?"
Cole shrugged.
Riley stepped closer.
"What does 317 mean?"
His eyes flickered.
"Nothing."
"You recognized it."
"No."
"You stepped backward."
"Maybe I don't like people dropping garbage around my barracks."
"Emma Castillo had the same tag."
That landed.
Cole's face went still.
Riley continued.
"You knew her."
Everyone at the installation knew that from the records.
What Riley wanted was the reaction.
Cole gave one.
A flash of sadness.
Real sadness.
Then anger buried it.
"Don't use her name."
Riley lowered her voice.
"Why?"
"You don't know anything about Emma."
"Then tell me."
Cole stared at her uneven hair.
"You think because you let somebody shave your head, you're suddenly part of some secret?"
"You shaved it."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Cole looked toward Hale.
"Ask your captain."
Hale stepped forward.
"What does that mean?"
Cole laughed once.
"You really don't know?"
"Know what?"
Cole's smile faded.
"Then you're more screwed than she is."
Hale ordered the MPs to detain him pending investigation.
Cole stood.
Before leaving, he looked directly at Riley.
"Locker seventeen isn't what you think."
Riley's chest tightened.
She hadn't mentioned the locker.
Hale hadn't either.
Cole walked away.
Riley waited until he disappeared.
"Now can we go to Building Twelve?"
Hale was already reaching for his keys.
Building Twelve stood at the edge of the installation, beyond two warehouses and an abandoned vehicle bay.
The front entrance was chained.
The chain had been cut and carefully reassembled.
Hale noticed immediately.
"Someone's using it."
They entered.
Dust covered the floor.
Their boot prints weren't the first.
Someone had walked through recently.
Several people.
Third floor.
Locker seventeen.
They found it at the end of a long former squad bay.
The door was rusted.
No padlock.
Riley opened it.
Empty.
Hale shined his flashlight inside.
"Nothing."
Riley crouched.
Scratches marked the lower panel.
She pressed.
A false metal backing shifted.
Behind it sat a black plastic box.
Hale reached for it.
Riley caught his wrist.
"Wait."
A thin wire ran from the box toward the back of the locker.
Not an explosive.
A simple contact sensor.
"If we pull it, someone gets notified."
"Already might be."
Riley examined the wire and disconnected it carefully.
They removed the box.
Inside were twelve metal tags.
Each engraved with numbers.
Others.
Under them were folded pieces of paper.
Names.
Soldiers.
Some still stationed there.
Some transferred.
Two discharged.
One dead.
Emma Castillo.
Riley felt cold.
Hale photographed everything.
"These are initiation records," Riley said.
"Maybe."
"No. Look."
Each name had a date.
An outcome.
TRANSFER.
SILENT.
COMPLIANT.
REPORTED.
Emma's entry had something different.
COPIED FILES.
Hale stared.
"What files?"
A noise sounded downstairs.
A door slammed.
They froze.
Hale drew his radio.
No signal.
Riley checked her phone.
Nothing.
"Building's shielding us."
"Or someone killed the repeater."
Footsteps entered the squad bay.
Slow.
Riley quietly closed the locker.
Hale positioned himself beside the doorway.
The footsteps stopped outside.
A woman spoke.
"Sergeant Quinn?"
Riley and Hale exchanged a look.
The door opened.
A civilian woman in her forties entered.
She held both hands where they could see them.
"My name is Laura Castillo."
Riley knew immediately.
Emma's older sister.
"What are you doing here?" Riley asked.
Laura looked at the box.
"You found it."
"You sent the messages?"
"Some of them."
"Some?"
Laura's face tightened.
"I wasn't the person photographing you."
"Who was?"
"I don't know."
Hale stepped forward.
"Mrs. Castillo, you need to explain why you're inside a restricted military facility."
"I'll explain everything."
She looked at Riley.
"But not here."
"Why?"
"Because Emma wasn't investigating Mercer."
Riley remembered Cole's warning.
Laura continued.
"Mercer was trying to help her."
Hale stared.
"That's not what the reports show."
"The reports were changed."
"By whom?"
Laura opened her purse slowly and removed a flash drive.
"My sister copied seventeen files before she died."
Riley looked at it.
"What's on them?"
Laura's voice dropped.
"A list of soldiers who were pushed out, threatened, or made to disappear from this unit."
"By Mercer?"
"No."
"Then who?"
Laura looked toward Hale.
She seemed almost afraid to speak.
"The officer whose signature appears every time someone complains."
Hale went still.
"Major Lawson?"
Laura nodded.
Before anyone could say another word, the lights went out.
Complete darkness.
Riley heard Hale move.
Then Laura gasped.
A struggle.
"Laura?"
Something hit the floor.
Riley switched on her phone flashlight.
Laura was gone.
The flash drive lay at Riley's feet.
May you like
And on the doorway, written in fresh black marker, were five words:
YOU WERE WARNED ABOUT LOCKER 17.
