Chapter 4 - The Password Under the Floorboards
I didn't accuse my father in a crowded reception hall.
That would have satisfied my anger and damaged any chance of learning the truth.
Instead I stepped outside with Reyes and asked for the raw records.
"A device inside their home connected to an archived account at 2:14 a.m.," she said.
"That doesn't prove who used it."
"I know."
My military career had taught me to distinguish evidence from the story people attached to it.
My family had never learned the difference.
Ryan found us near the flagpole.
"Did Dad really have access to your files?"
"He shouldn't have."
He looked toward the building.
"He keeps a locked office.
Says nobody is allowed inside because of the business."
Our father sold maritime contracting services, mostly mundane supply agreements and inspection work.
I had never considered his business worth more than the usual family arguments over money.
"What kind of business?" I asked.
"He had a new partner last year.
Someone named Mercer."
The name jolted me.
During the failed mission, a contractor called Mercer Systems had supplied communications equipment that went silent at the precise moment Daniel's team needed extraction.
Officially the outage had been a technical failure.
Unofficially we had never understood it.
I called Reyes over.
"We need to verify whether the company Ryan means is the same contractor."
Ryan frowned.
"You're saying Dad could be mixed up in a military investigation?"
"I'm saying a name isn't evidence."
For the first time all morning, he listened instead of filling the silence.
At the curb, my father appeared beside a black rental SUV.
He beckoned sharply.
I didn't move.
He crossed the lot and lowered his voice.
"The navy business is a misunderstanding.
You will stop talking to your brother about it."
"Why?"
"Because family matters stay in the family."
I held his gaze.
"Daniel Bell isn't family, Dad.
His family deserves answers too."
His expression changed at the name.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But I'd spent enough time watching people under pressure to recognize when fear arrived before the explanation.
"I don't know who that is," he said.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message lit the screen before he could hide it.
It read: THE CARTER GIRL HAS THE ENVELOPE.
There was no sender name.
Just an unrecognized number.
May you like
And suddenly the mystery had reached farther into my family than I wanted to believe.
