Chapter 2 - Permission to Enter
Dad opened the door before I could stop him.
Colonel Nathan Hayes stood outside.
I had known him for eleven years.
He was fifty-one, broad-shouldered, gray beginning to show at his temples, and possessed of the particular stillness that made younger officers straighten unconsciously when he entered a room.
Two soldiers stood behind him.
One held Daniel's black case.
Another carried a folded flag case and a sealed document pouch.
Dad looked from Hayes to the vehicles.
“Can I help you?”
Hayes's gaze passed him.
He saw me.
His posture changed instantly.
“Major Mercer.”
Vanessa made a small sound behind me.
Hayes stepped to attention.
“Permission to enter, Major?”
Nobody moved.
I could hear the grandfather clock.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Dad slowly turned toward me.
“Major?”
Noah looked up.
He had heard people call me that before, although rarely around my family.
I squeezed his hand.
“At ease, Colonel.”
Hayes nodded.
Then he looked at Dad.
“My apologies for arriving during a family gathering, sir.”
Dad stared at his insignia.
Then at me.
“You're a major?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Four years.”
Vanessa laughed once.
It was an uncertain sound.
“No. Seriously.”
Hayes looked at her.
“I assure you, ma'am, Major Mercer is quite serious.”
Grant's eyebrows rose.
Mom covered her mouth.
I stepped aside.
“Come in, Colonel.”
Hayes entered.
The soldiers followed.
Suddenly the foyer that had felt enormous minutes earlier seemed small.
Dad looked at my blue maternity dress.
Then at my face.
Then at Hayes.
“You never told us.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“You said you worked in operations.”
“I do.”
Vanessa stared.
“But Daniel was a captain.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened as the implication reached her.
“You outranked your husband?”
I almost smiled.
“Daniel didn't marry my rank.”
Hayes's expression softened for half a second.
“No, ma'am. Captain Mercer spoke about that frequently.”
I looked at him.
Something in his voice hurt.
“Why are you here personally?”
The softness disappeared.
“May we speak privately?”
Dad immediately said, “Anything involving Daniel can be discussed here.”
Hayes didn't even look at him.
“Major?”
“Study.”
I led him down the hall.
Dad followed.
I stopped.
“Dad.”
“This is my house.”
“And this is military business.”
His face reddened.
Hayes remained silent.
That silence did more than any argument could.
Dad stopped.
I entered the study with Hayes.
One soldier brought Daniel's black case inside and placed it on the desk.
Then he left and closed the door.
Hayes waited.
I looked at the case.
“I've never seen this.”
“We weren't sure you had.”
“What is it?”
“It was recovered from Captain Mercer's temporary quarters.”
My heart tightened.
Daniel had died during what the Army had officially described as a vehicle accident during stateside training.
I had received only fragments.
Investigation pending.
Mechanical failure suspected.
No hostile involvement.
Daniel had been assigned temporarily to Fort Reynolds for a joint readiness program.
I had been stationed two states away.
The last time we spoke, he had sounded distracted.
He told me he loved me.
He told Noah he'd call Saturday.
He told my stomach, “Behave for your mom, peanut.”
He died six hours later.
Hayes placed a hand on the case.
“This wasn't listed among his issued equipment.”
“Then why was it in his quarters?”
“We hoped you could tell us.”
“I can't.”
Hayes reached into his coat and removed a small evidence envelope.
Inside was a brass key.
“Found inside his wallet.”
My pulse quickened.
“Daniel carried that?”
“Yes.”
I recognized the blue thread tied around the top.
Daniel used blue thread for one thing.
Our emergency system.
Years earlier, after both of us had begun handling increasingly sensitive responsibilities, we had created a simple private rule.
Blue meant family.
Red meant duty.
If one of us ever left something marked blue, the other opened it alone.
I looked at Hayes.
“I need the room.”
He understood immediately.
“I'll be outside.”
When the door closed, I locked it.
My hands trembled for the first time that evening.
I inserted the key.
Click.
Inside was Daniel's old field notebook.
A watch.
Three photographs.
A sealed envelope.
And a small digital recorder.
I touched the envelope.
My name was written across it.
EMILY.
Not Major Mercer.
Not Em.
Emily.
I opened it.
There was one sheet of paper.
If you're reading this, something went wrong.
I stopped breathing.
I forced myself onward.
Don't assume the accident was an accident.
My fingers tightened.
Daniel had written six more lines.
Names.
Dates.
Vehicle numbers.
Then:
Hayes can be trusted.
There was one final sentence.
Protect Noah and our daughter before you do anything else.
A knock sounded.
“Major?”
Hayes.
I opened the door.
He saw my face.
“What did he write?”
I handed him the page.
He read it.
His expression changed at the third line.
“Colonel?”
He looked at me.
“Daniel was investigating missing equipment.”
“What equipment?”
“Communications systems. Restricted components. Nothing that should have been outside controlled inventory.”
“And the names?”
“One is a civilian contractor.”
“Who?”
Hayes pointed.
“Whitmore Strategic Holdings.”
My stomach dropped.
Whitmore.
I looked toward the hallway.
Grant Whitmore.
My sister's husband.
Hayes saw recognition on my face.
“You know them?”
I opened the study door.
Through the hall, I could see Grant standing beside Vanessa.
He was watching us.
When he noticed the paper in my hand, the color drained from his face.
He turned away immediately.
Too immediately.
Hayes lowered his voice.
“Major?”
“Don't react.”
Grant pulled out his phone.
I watched him type.
Then he looked toward the front door.
I walked into the hallway.
“Grant.”
He froze.
Vanessa looked between us.
“What?”
“What's Whitmore Strategic Holdings?”
Grant smiled.
It wasn't convincing.
“One of our companies.”
“What does it do?”
“Government consulting.”
“What kind?”
“Why?”
I held Daniel's letter behind my back.
“Answer me.”
Dad stepped in.
“Emily, don't interrogate guests in my house.”
Hayes appeared beside me.
Grant saw him and swallowed.
“Supply-chain consulting,” Grant said. “Procurement. Transportation.”
“For the military?”
“Sometimes.”
Hayes asked, “Fort Reynolds?”
Grant's eyes flickered.
That was enough.
Vanessa stared at her husband.
“Grant?”
“I have hundreds of contracts.”
Hayes's voice stayed calm.
“Then you won't mind answering a few questions.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Grant reached for his coat.
Vanessa grabbed his arm.
“Where are you going?”
“I need air.”
I looked at the black case.
Then at Daniel's notebook.
A thought hit me.
“Colonel, the recorder.”
Hayes turned.
I went back into the study and picked it up.
There was one audio file.
I pressed play.
Daniel's voice filled the room.
“If Emily is hearing this, check vehicle manifest R-seven-four-one before anyone moves it. The signature authorizing the transfer belongs to—”
Static.
Then another voice appeared in the recording.
A man's voice.
“Daniel?”
Grant stopped moving in the hallway.
May you like
Every person in the house heard it.
Because the voice on Daniel's recorder sounded exactly like him.
