Chapter 9 - GLASS MOUNTAIN
Ethan read the incident code three times.
He did not speak until the third.
"That aircraft turned back because of icing."
Pierce shook her head.
"That was the official finding."
"That's what we were told."
"I know."
"So what are you telling me now?"
She enlarged the scanned engineering note.
"The aircraft experienced unstable fuel pressure after the NX-series cold-weather module entered a low-temperature control state."
Ethan stared at the screen.
"NX-series?"
"Predecessor to the NX-41."
"Same architecture?"
"According to the report, yes."
He looked at me.
I remembered that night with cruel clarity.
Our rescue team had been told the planned extraction aircraft could not reach the trapped SEAL element because icing conditions exceeded limits.
Nobody questioned it.
Weather cancels flights.
Mountains close routes.
Machines turn back.
That was normal.
What we had not been told was that a mechanical failure had contributed.
A mechanical failure connected to the same system now sitting broken on another mountain.
"Who wrote the original report?"
I asked.
Pierce scrolled.
"Systems engineer named Evelyn Park."
"Where is she?"
"Left Northstar two years ago."
"Find her."
Pierce gave me a dry look.
"That is generally what federal agents do."
"Sorry."
"You're tired."
"I'm furious."
"That too."
Ethan paced two steps away.
"If that extraction aircraft had reached us..."
He stopped.
I knew where the thought was going.
If the aircraft had reached them, our team might never have crossed the mountain.
If we had never crossed the mountain, nobody would have called me Whiteout One.
If Northstar had disclosed the defect, six men might have avoided a night that still appeared in their dreams.
Heroes are sometimes created by failures that should never have happened.
I hated that truth.
"Do not do that to yourself."
I said it to Ethan.
He looked at me.
"Do what?"
"Rewrite the night with information you didn't have."
"People almost died because somebody hid this."
"Yes."
"Miller almost lost his leg."
"Yes."
"You almost died getting to us."
"Also yes."
His jaw tightened.
"You sound very calm."
"I am not calm."
"You look calm."
"Training."
Pierce closed the tablet.
"Both of you need to understand something."
We looked at her.
"This is no longer just an accident investigation."
"We now have evidence suggesting a long-running safety issue may have been concealed from military customers."
"We have a witness admitting he altered documentation under pressure."
"We have another witness who delayed reporting the defect."
"We have a crash involving the same technology family."
"And we have public attention intense enough to contaminate witnesses before we interview them."
She looked directly at me.
"Your sister's interview is making that worse."
I rubbed my eyes.
"What did she say now?"
"Nothing new yet."
"Yet?"
"Her agency issued a statement."
"Of course they did."
Pierce handed me a printed sheet.
Brightline Strategies.
That was Brianna's employer.
The statement said the agency had provided limited communications services to Northstar Aeronautics and had no involvement in technical or safety matters.
It also said one employee's family relationship to a government rescue specialist had never influenced agency work.
"One employee."
I read the phrase aloud.
"They won't even name her."
"Lawyers rarely write for emotional satisfaction."
"Apparently."
Then I reached the last paragraph.
Brightline stated it had placed the employee on administrative leave pending an internal review of unauthorized public communications.
I looked at Ethan.
"They suspended her."
"For the interview?"
"For speaking without approval, probably."
Pierce nodded.
"Northstar was one of Brightline's largest accounts."
My phone rang again.
Brianna.
I rejected the call.
It rang immediately.
I rejected it again.
Then Mom called.
I stared at the screen.
Pierce watched me.
"Take it."
"Why does everyone keep telling me to call my family during federal investigations?"
"Because unhappy families create witnesses who talk to television."
She was not joking.
I answered.
"Mom."
Her voice shook.
"Your sister lost her job."
"She's suspended."
"She says they told her not to come back."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"Can you help?"
I opened them again.
There it was.
The reflex.
The assumption that if something broke near me, I should repair it.
"No."
"Lauren."
"Mom, I am standing at an emergency command site after a plane crash."
"Brianna is falling apart."
"Then stay with her."
"She needs her sister."
"Her sister asked her not to post operational information."
"I know."
"She posted it."
"I know."
"Her sister asked her not to make this about the party."
"I know."
"She went on television."
"I know."
"Then stop asking me to erase the consequences."
Mom cried quietly.
I hated every second of it.
But boundaries often feel cruel to people who benefited from your lack of them.
"Come home."
Her voice was almost a whisper.
"When I am released."
"Please."
"I will."
I ended the call.
Ethan looked at me.
"You don't have to go."
"Yes, I do."
"Why?"
"Because if I don't, the story becomes that I abandoned her."
"And if you do?"
"At least I get to decide what I say before everyone decides it for me."
Pierce pointed a finger at both of us.
"Before either of you leaves, interview rooms."
Ethan frowned.
"Now?"
"Especially now."
We spent the next two hours separated.
I described the rescue.
Every transmission.
Every movement.
Every interaction with Hale and Bell.
Every word Bell said about Daniel Voss.
Every time I touched the phone.
Every safety concern I remembered filing about the NX system family.
Then Pierce asked about Glass Mountain.
I told her the cleared facts.
"Did anyone from Northstar contact you after that rescue?"
I searched memory.
"No."
"Did anyone ask you to change your rescue report?"
"No."
"Did your chain of command ever discuss a mechanical failure on the extraction aircraft?"
"No."
"Did you know Daniel Voss at the time?"
"No."
"Do you know him now?"
"Only the name Bell gave me."
"Any connection through your sister?"
That question stopped me.
"I don't know."
"Did Brianna ever mention Northstar executives?"
I thought of her stories.
Private dinners.
Luxury conference venues.
Executives who flew first class.
A client who sent holiday baskets worth more than my monthly grocery bill.
Names had blurred because I did not care.
Then one surfaced.
"She mentioned a Daniel once."
Pierce leaned forward.
"When?"
"Maybe six months ago."
"Last name?"
"I don't remember."
"Context?"
"She said a client executive told her she had excellent instincts and should be promoted."
"Anything else?"
I shook my head.
Then remembered.
"Actually."
Pierce waited.
"She brought him up when she was criticizing my job."
"What did she say?"
"That people like Daniel knew how to recognize ambition."
Pierce wrote it down.
"Could be Voss."
"Could be anybody."
"Correct."
She did not force the connection.
That made me trust her more.
When the interview ended, dawn had turned the eastern sky gray.
Ethan waited outside.
"How bad?"
I asked.
"I have repeated the phrase 'to the best of my recollection' so many times I may tattoo it on my arm."
"Same."
We walked toward the parking area.
"Are you really going to your parents'?"
"Yes."
"Want backup?"
"No."
He looked doubtful.
"Ethan."
"What?"
"Do not come."
"Why?"
"Because if you walk into that house, Brianna will focus on getting you back instead of hearing anything I say."
He considered it.
"Fair."
"Also, you're exhausted."
"So are you."
"I have more experience making bad decisions while exhausted."
"That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be."
His phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His face changed.
"Miller?"
"No."
"Who?"
He turned the screen toward me.
A message from an unknown number.
STOP DIGGING INTO GLASS MOUNTAIN.
Below it was a photograph.
My parents' house.
Taken from across the street.
At night.
The engagement lights were still glowing in the windows.
For one second I forgot how to breathe.
Ethan looked at me.
"You're not going home alone."
May you like
This time I did not argue.
