Chapter 3 - The Folder With My Name

By sunrise, Jessi had been moved to a guarded private room on the orthopedic floor, officially because of her medical condition and unofficially because Agent Torres no longer trusted Harrington County not to send someone back for the evidence they had failed to destroy.

I had not slept.

Neither had Marcus.

He sat across from me in a family waiting room wearing the same uniform he had arrived in, his badge now sealed inside an FBI evidence envelope on the table.

"They suspended you?" I asked.

"I surrendered it voluntarily."

"Difference?"

"To me."

Torres entered carrying coffee and a laptop.

"To federal prosecutors, too," she said. "It shows he understands he's a witness, not an active deputy in this case."

Marcus looked at her. "Do I get the badge back?"

"Depends on what we find."

"Fair."

She set the laptop down.

"Price cracked the folder."

I sat straighter.

"What's in it?"

"Before I show you, understand that you may become a subject of an internal review."

"I assumed that."

"Good."

She opened the first file.

It was a photograph of me leaving the federal building in Richmond six months earlier.

The next showed my truck outside Fort Belvoir.

The third showed Jessi and me at a grocery store.

The fourth showed Jessi alone walking into the Harrington County courthouse.

Marcus swore softly.

I said nothing.

Torres clicked into a text document.

"This appears to be Evan Shaw's notes. Listen carefully."

She read.

"Subject: Luca Vance. Army CID. Possibly assigned to DOD corridor investigation. Wife: Jessica Vance, land-use attorney. No indication husband aware of Harrington parcel manipulation. Sterling appears nervous about Vance assignment. Source says 'Colonel is handling it.'"

I felt something cold settle behind my ribs.

"Colonel who?"

"No name."

"Anything else?"

Torres scrolled.

"Two days later: 'Flynn says Vance deployment buys us time. Hale wants Jessi Vance discouraged before she files injunction. Arthur says use civil pressure first.'"

I looked at Marcus.

"Civil pressure?"

He grimaced. "Inspections. Tax notices. Permit delays. Traffic stops. Harrington's favorite language."

Torres continued.

"Then this: 'If she finds archive discrepancy, move to Plan B.'"

Silence.

I already knew what Plan B looked like.

Two shattered legs.

A skull fracture.

A fake accident report.

"What about the colonel?" I asked.

Torres closed the document.

"We're working it."

The door opened and Keller entered with a man I recognized immediately.

Colonel Nathan Rourke.

My former task force supervisor.

For one second, nobody spoke.

Rourke was fifty-two, silver at the temples, posture straight enough to look carved. He had signed my travel orders. He had approved my access to the corridor project. He had recommended me for promotion twice.

"Luca," he said.

I stood slowly.

"Colonel."

Torres looked from him to me.

"You know each other."

Rourke answered. "I was Warrant Officer Vance's supervisor until three months ago."

"Why are you here?"

"Chief Keller notified Army command that controlled planning data may have been compromised. I was sent to coordinate."

Keller's face gave away nothing.

"Sit," Torres said.

Rourke remained standing.

"I'm a colonel in the United States Army."

"And this is an FBI interview room with bad coffee. Sit."

Marcus looked down to hide a smile.

Rourke sat.

Torres turned the laptop so he could see Evan's note.

"Do you recognize the phrase 'Colonel is handling it'?"

Rourke read without visible reaction.

"No."

"How many colonels had access to the corridor alignment?"

"Several."

"Names?"

"I'll provide them through secure channels."

"Did you ever meet Sheriff Arthur Sterling?"

"Not that I recall."

"Flynn Sterling?"

"No."

"Judge Milton Hale?"

"No."

Torres watched him.

"Did you know Luca Vance lived in Harrington County?"

"Yes."

"Did you know his wife practiced land-use law?"

"Yes."

"Did you know she was challenging Sterling Development?"

Rourke paused.

It was small.

But I saw it.

So did Torres.

"When did you learn that?" she asked.

"Recently."

"How recently?"

"I don't remember."

I spoke before I could stop myself.

"You remember everything."

Rourke's eyes shifted to me.

"Excuse me?"

"You remember the serial number on a radio you carried in 2004. You remember every officer's fitness score. Don't tell me you forgot when you learned my wife was in a dispute with a developer tied to a controlled logistics corridor."

Keller said quietly, "Luca."

I stopped.

Rourke's face hardened.

"Your wife was attacked. You're emotional."

"Correct."

"Then let professionals do their jobs."

Torres leaned forward.

"He is not wrong about the question. When did you learn?"

Rourke looked at her.

"About two months ago."

"From whom?"

"I don't recall."

Torres held his gaze.

"Try."

"A county liaison, perhaps."

"Name?"

"I said I don't recall."

Keller finally spoke.

"Colonel, did you authorize Luca's overseas temporary duty?"

"Yes."

"Why him?"

"He was qualified."

"There were six qualified investigators."

Rourke's jaw shifted.

"He had the best background for the assignment."

"Which conveniently removed him from Harrington County for five weeks."

"Are you accusing me of something, Chief?"

"I'm asking why you moved my investigator five thousand miles away while his wife was being pressured by a company with access to information from your project."

Rourke stood.

"This is inappropriate."

Torres said, "Sit down."

"Am I under arrest?"

"No."

"Then I'm done."

He walked to the door.

Before he opened it, I said, "Colonel."

He turned.

"When my wife wakes up fully, she's going to identify Flynn Sterling as the man who held her while his people broke her legs."

Rourke's expression did not change.

"I hope they prosecute him."

"So do I."

"Then we agree."

"For now."

He left.

Marcus exhaled.

"That man is dirty."

Torres looked at him sharply.

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you."

"Correct. That's why we investigate instead of guess."

Keller stared at the closed door.

"Price is checking access logs."

I looked at him.

"You suspected Rourke before he walked in."

"I suspected everyone who could have leaked the route."

"Including me?"

"Especially you."

I nodded.

Fair.

The hospital room phone rang.

Torres answered.

"Yes?"

Her face changed.

"When?"

She listened.

"Lock the floor. Nobody leaves."

She hung up.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Someone tried to access Jessi's pathology storage using a hospital administrator badge."

"Did they get in?"

"No."

"Who?"

"Camera caught a man in scrubs. Fake ID. Security lost him near the loading dock."

Marcus stood.

"Bennett?"

"No. Younger."

Keller's phone buzzed.

He checked it.

"Price has something."

He put the call on speaker.

"Go."

Price's voice came quickly.

"I checked the metadata on the images of Luca. They were taken by two devices. One belongs to a private investigator named Greg Nolan, former Harrington deputy. The other set came from a phone that synced once to an Army-managed network."

My stomach tightened.

"Whose phone?"

"The device identifier is partially masked. I'm working it."

Torres asked, "What about Rourke's access logs?"

"He accessed the preliminary corridor map six times outside normal working hours. Two accesses occurred within twenty-four hours of Sterling Development purchasing parcels that were not yet publicly connected to the route."

Keller closed his eyes briefly.

"That's enough for a preservation order."

"Already requested."

Jessi's room alarm chimed down the hall.

I was on my feet instantly.

A nurse appeared at the waiting room door.

"Mr. Vance? Your wife is awake and asking for you."

I moved past her and into Jessi's room.

She looked more alert than before, though pain sat visibly behind her eyes.

"You left," she said.

"I was fifty feet away."

"Still counts."

I sat.

She studied my face.

"What happened?"

"We found the folder."

"And?"

"Evan was tracking me. He thought someone inside the Army was helping Sterling."

Jessi's fingers tightened on the blanket.

"Luca."

"What?"

"I heard Flynn say a name."

I leaned closer.

"When?"

"At the site. Before they hurt me. He was arguing with someone on speakerphone."

"What name?"

She swallowed.

"Rourke."

I did not react outwardly.

Inside, something broke cleanly in half.

"Are you certain?"

"He said, 'Tell Rourke his soldier is overseas and the wife won't be a problem by morning.'"

I looked toward the door, where Keller and Torres had stopped.

They had heard everything.

Torres stepped inside.

"Mrs. Vance, I need you to repeat that when we record a formal statement."

"I will."

Keller's face had gone gray.

"Luca."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Then I'm functional."

Jessi reached for my hand.

"Don't become what they expect you to become."

I looked at her.

"What do they expect?"

"A furious husband with a gun. A soldier they can provoke into doing something stupid."

She was right.

Arthur Sterling had tried to bait me from the first minute I arrived.

Flynn had taunted me by phone.

Rourke had dismissed me as emotional.

They wanted anger because anger was predictable.

Evidence was not.

I squeezed Jessi's hand gently.

"Then we give them evidence."

Torres nodded once.

"Good answer."

My phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

I almost ignored it.

Then a text appeared.

SOLDIER, YOUR WIFE SHOULD HAVE KEPT QUIET.

A second message followed.

NEXT TIME, WE WON'T MISS.

Attached was a photograph taken through the hospital room window.

It showed Jessi and me holding hands.

The picture had been taken less than thirty seconds earlier.

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I looked toward the glass.

Across the parking structure, a dark figure stepped away from the concrete railing and disappeared.