Chapter 12 - THE SECOND TEAM
By late afternoon, I had been awake for thirty-two hours.
Pierce ordered me to sleep.
I told her I was fine.
She threatened to have a medic evaluate me.
I slept for fifty-three minutes.
Then my phone rang.
Colonel Shaw.
"Hayes."
I sat up immediately.
"Go."
"Crash recovery team reached the aircraft."
"And?"
"They found evidence somebody returned after we evacuated."
Every trace of sleep disappeared.
"What evidence?"
"Fresh tracks."
"Human?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"At least three."
"From where?"
"Approached from south drainage on snow machines."
"Local SAR?"
"No."
"Sheriff?"
"No."
"Media?"
"Unlikely."
I swung my feet onto the floor.
"What did they touch?"
"Left wing access panel."
My stomach tightened.
"Fuel system."
"Exactly."
"Evidence disturbed?"
"Recovery team stopped before entering the area."
"Good."
"There is more."
"Of course."
"The cockpit recorder compartment is open."
I stood.
"Recorder missing?"
"Yes."
For three seconds I said nothing.
The crash site had been under weather isolation.
Law enforcement perimeter existed below.
Somebody had gone up anyway.
Somebody knew what to take.
"Where is the recovery team now?"
"Pulled back."
"Any visual on the intruders?"
"Negative."
"Tracks direction?"
"Southwest."
"Toward what?"
"Old logging road."
I was already putting on clothes.
"I'm coming."
"No."
I stopped.
"Sir."
"You've been operational for more than a day."
"I know that site."
"So does Kwon."
"I'm lead."
"You were lead."
The distinction irritated me because it was correct.
"Federal investigation owns the site now."
"I can support."
"You can sleep."
"Sir."
His voice hardened.
"That was an order."
I stared at the wall.
"Copy."
"Good."
"Keep me updated."
"Within reason."
He ended the call.
I sat on the edge of the bed furious at being protected from my own bad judgment.
Ten minutes later, Pierce knocked.
"You heard?"
"Yes."
"Recorder."
"Yes."
"You want to go back."
"Yes."
"You're not going."
"Apparently."
She closed the door behind her.
"Good."
"You came here to enjoy this?"
"A little."
I gave her a look.
She sat in the chair opposite me.
"We have reason to believe Voss used Northstar's security contractors for unauthorized surveillance."
"The microphone?"
"Maybe."
"The crash site?"
"Maybe."
"That's a lot of maybes."
"Investigations are mostly maybes until they become exhibits."
"What do you need from me?"
"Your memory."
"Of what?"
"The crash site."
She opened a map.
"Walk me through where the recorder compartment would have been relative to the fuel leak."
I did.
Then she showed photographs from the recovery team.
Tracks.
Opened panel.
Snow disturbed near the tail.
One image caught my attention.
"Zoom there."
Pierce enlarged it.
A thin black cable protruded from beneath the snow.
"That wasn't there when we left."
"Certain?"
"I cleared that path myself."
"What could it be?"
"No idea."
She sent a note to the site team.
Five minutes later, response came.
Temporary power lead.
Connected to the aircraft's diagnostic port.
Someone had powered part of the system after the crash.
"Why?"
Pierce asked.
I thought.
"Download data."
"Or erase it."
"Yes."
"Can Northstar equipment do that?"
"Hale would know."
She stood.
"Let's ask."
Victor Hale was under guard at the same hospital as Miller.
We interviewed him by secure video.
He looked ten years older than he had on the mountain.
"Diagnostic port can access NX controller logs."
He said.
"Can logs be erased?"
Pierce asked.
"Yes."
"Remotely?"
"Not without aircraft power."
"Locally?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Two minutes."
"Could the cockpit recorder be removed in the same visit?"
"Yes."
"Who at Northstar would know how?"
Hale laughed bitterly.
"Half the field team."
"Specific people tied to Voss?"
He thought.
"Security contractor named Mason Crane."
Pierce wrote it down.
"Who is he?"
"Former military."
"Role?"
"Corporate investigations."
"Meaning?"
"When employees leak things, Crane finds out who."
"Legally?"
Hale looked away.
"Usually."
"Usually is interesting."
"I never asked."
"Did he ever contact you?"
"Two weeks ago."
"Why?"
"He asked whether I had copied test files."
"What did you say?"
"No."
"Was that true?"
"No."
Pierce sighed.
"Everyone in this story lies badly."
Hale almost smiled.
"Occupational hazard."
"Do you have Crane's number?"
"Yes."
"Provide it."
He did.
Pierce sent the number immediately.
Then Hale looked at me.
"How is Cross?"
"Surgery."
"Leg?"
"Still attached when he went in."
Hale closed his eyes.
"Good."
"Don't use his survival to forgive yourself."
The words came out before I could soften them.
Hale opened his eyes.
I continued.
"You waited eleven months."
"Bell falsified a report."
"Voss may have ordered it."
"Those facts can all be true at once."
His face tightened.
"I know."
"Good."
"Then help fix what you helped hide."
He nodded.
"I will."
After the call, Pierce looked at me.
"You ever consider becoming an investigator?"
"No."
"Good."
"Why?"
"You would terrify witnesses."
"They survive."
"Mostly."
Her phone rang.
She answered.
"Pierce."
She listened.
Her expression sharpened.
"Where?"
She stood.
"Do not approach."
I watched her.
"We're coming."
She ended the call.
"What?"
"Crane's phone just pinged."
"Where?"
"Thirty-seven miles from the crash site."
"Moving?"
"No."
"Road?"
"Abandoned service station."
I reached for my jacket.
Pierce pointed at me.
"No."
"I'm just getting dressed."
"For what?"
"Emotional support."
"Sit down."
I sat.
I hated it.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then thirty.
I watched the hotel television on mute.
Every channel carried some version of the same story.
MILITARY RESCUE HERO LINKED TO COLORADO CRASH.
QUESTIONS GROW AROUND NORTHSTAR SYSTEM.
BLIZZARD HERO'S SISTER WORKED FOR DEFENSE CONTRACTOR'S PR FIRM.
My family's private dysfunction had become a chyron.
Then Pierce's phone rang again.
She answered.
Her face changed.
"Alive?"
Pause.
"Any others?"
Another pause.
"Secure everything."
She hung up.
"Crane?"
I asked.
"They found him."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"What was he doing?"
"Sitting in the driver's seat of a snow-capable utility truck."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Recorder?"
Pierce looked at me.
"In the back seat."
Relief moved through me.
Then she continued.
"Along with three Northstar diagnostic modules and a portable data eraser."
"Arrested?"
"Detained."
"Did he talk?"
"One sentence."
"What?"
Pierce's expression was grim.
"He said Daniel Voss ordered him to recover company property before federal investigators contaminated it."
I laughed once in disbelief.
"Contaminated?"
"His word."
"Where is Voss?"
"Crane says he doesn't know."
"Believe him?"
"No opinion yet."
Then a knock sounded at the hotel room door.
Dad's voice came from the hall.
"Lauren?"
I opened it.
He stood there with Mom.
Mom looked frightened.
"Brianna is gone."
My heart stopped.
"What do you mean gone?"
"Her room is empty."
"Security?"
"They thought she was with her lawyer."
Pierce was already moving.
"Phone?"
Mom shook her head.
"She left it on the bed."
I stared at her.
Brianna had left the one device federal agents were protecting.
Then Dad held out a folded piece of hotel stationery.
"She left this."
I opened it.
The handwriting was Brianna's.
I CAN FIX THIS.
DANIEL WILL TALK TO ME.
PLEASE DON'T FOLLOW ME.
For one second nobody spoke.
Then I felt something I had not felt even under avalanche snow.
Pure fear.
Because my sister had finally realized she had made a catastrophic mistake.
May you like
And in true Brianna fashion, she had decided the solution was to make another decision alone.
