Chapter 5 - The General Who Lied to Me
Lieutenant General Marcus Hale had been my mentor for seventeen years.
He recommended me for colonel.
He stood beside my hospital bed after my second deployment.
He knew my daughter’s birthday.
I knew his wife.
His grandchildren called him Grandpa Bear.
And now a photograph on a diner table showed him standing beside Sarah Grant three weeks after Noah’s death.
“You’re certain he led the investigation?” I asked.
Sarah gave me a look that contained no patience.
“He sat in my living room.”
“What did he say?”
“That Noah had been overwhelmed.”
“By what?”
“Debt. Stress. Career problems.”
“Did Noah have any of those?”
“No.”
She leaned closer.
“My brother had eight thousand dollars saved. He had just been selected for promotion. And three days before he died, he called me because he was excited about buying a motorcycle.”
“What did Hale ask you?”
“For Noah’s laptop.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did you give it to him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you get it back?”
“No.”
“Receipt?”
“No.”
That was bad.
Very bad.
“Why didn’t you report this?”
“To whom?”
I had no answer.
Sarah continued.
“I called the Inspector General hotline four times.”
“You should have received a case number.”
“I did.”
“Do you remember it?”
She reached into her bag.
She had saved everything.
The case number was real.
I knew the numbering system.
Someone had entered her complaint and then buried it.
“Did Hale tell you anything else?”
“He told me not to contact anyone at Camp Vora.”
“Why?”
“For my safety.”
That, at least, might have been legitimate.
Sarah laughed bitterly.
“I thought he was protecting me.”
“And now?”
“Now I think he was protecting them.”
I did not want that to be true.
That was dangerous.
Investigators could not afford loyalty to possibilities.
Only evidence.
“Did Noah ever mention the King’s Book?”
Sarah went still.
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That everyone was looking in the wrong place.”
“Meaning?”
“He said Sterling kept a ledger because he liked control. But the real proof wasn’t written by Sterling.”
I remembered the photograph.
THE LEDGER IS NOT THE EVIDENCE.
THE PEOPLE ARE.
“What was the real proof?”
Sarah looked toward the window.
“Noah set up recordings.”
“Audio?”
“Video.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who did?”
She looked at me.
“Leo.”
My blood went cold.
“Private Miller?”
“Noah said the kid helped him install two cameras.”
That explained why Leo had survived longer than others.
He knew more than he understood.
I returned to Camp Vora after dark.
Leo was gone.
His bunk empty.
Locker emptied.
No transfer paperwork.
No record at transportation.
No medical processing.
Nothing.
Sterling had moved him.
Mercer found me in the finance corridor.
“You look like you’re about to kill somebody.”
“Where is Miller?”
His face changed.
“I thought he was with you.”
“He isn’t.”
Mercer swore.
“Reed?”
“Probably.”
“Where would they take him?”
Mercer considered.
Then froze.
“The range bunker.”
“What bunker?”
“Old ammunition storage. Decommissioned.”
“Where?”
“North training sector.”
I started walking.
Mercer grabbed my arm.
“You can’t go alone.”
“Yes, I can.”
“That doesn’t mean you should.”
He was right.
I hated that.
We found Specialist Cho first.
He had worked Site Twelve.
He was terrified.
But the moment I revealed my actual rank, he stood straighter.
“I knew something was wrong about you,” he said.
“What gave it away?”
“You fold your sleeves like an officer.”
I looked down.
Twenty-two years of habits.
“Can you drive?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then tonight you’re my driver.”
He swallowed.
“For what?”
“To steal back a soldier.”
The range bunker sat behind two locked gates.
Mercer knew the access code.
That fact would later raise questions about how deeply he had been involved.
At the time, I only cared about Leo.
We parked half a mile away.
Walked through trees.
At the bunker entrance, voices carried through the concrete corridor.
Sterling.
Reed.
And Leo.
“You think Vance cares about you?” Sterling asked.
No answer.
“She’s using you.”
Silence.
“You have no idea who she is.”
Leo finally spoke.
“Neither do you.”
Even terrified, the kid was learning.
Sterling laughed.
“I know enough.”
“What do you want?”
“The key.”
“What key?”
A slap echoed.
My hands clenched.
Mercer whispered, “Colonel.”
“I know.”
We needed evidence.
Not rage.
Sterling continued.
“Noah gave you something.”
“I don’t have it.”
Another impact.
I moved.
Mercer caught my sleeve.
“Wait.”
Then another voice entered the bunker.
Lieutenant Colonel Eric Shaw.
General Dorian’s aide.
“That’s enough.”
Sterling said, “He knows where the recordings are.”
Shaw answered, “And if you break him, he becomes useless.”
My stomach tightened.
There it was.
Command-level involvement.
Shaw continued.
“General Hale wants this contained before Washington sends anyone else.”
Mercer looked at me.
My throat tightened.
There was Hale’s name.
Out loud.
From inside the conspiracy.
I activated the recorder hidden under my jacket.
Sterling asked, “What about Vance?”
Shaw said, “If she’s the investigator, Hale will handle her.”
Every part of me wanted to deny what I had heard.
Instead, I recorded it.
Shaw continued.
“Dorian is getting nervous.”
Sterling laughed.
“Dorian has always been nervous.”
“He’s asking questions.”
“He should’ve asked them three years ago.”
My mind raced.
That did not sound like Dorian was involved.
It sounded like he had lost control of his own command.
Leo cried out again.
Enough.
I stepped into the bunker.
“Major.”
Everyone froze.
Sterling stared at me.
Shaw’s face lost all color.
Reed reached toward his sidearm.
I drew mine first.
“Don’t.”
Reed stopped.
Sterling looked from the pistol to my face.
Then he smiled.
“I knew it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Shaw recovered.
“Specialist Vance, lower your weapon.”
I reached into my jacket and produced my credentials.
“Colonel Elena Vance. Office of Inspector General.”
Silence.
Leo stared at me.
Mercer stepped in behind me.
Cho remained near the door.
Sterling’s smile disappeared.
For the first time, I saw fear.
Real fear.
Not of rank.
Of exposure.
“You’re finished,” I said.
Then Shaw started laughing.
Not nervous laughter.
Confident laughter.
“You actually believe that?”
I looked at him.
He raised his phone.
One message.
Already sent.
“Colonel,” he said, “you should check your own credentials.”
My encrypted device vibrated.
A priority notice appeared.
COLONEL ELENA VANCE — TEMPORARILY RELIEVED OF INVESTIGATIVE AUTHORITY PENDING SECURITY REVIEW.
Signed electronically:
LIEUTENANT GENERAL MARCUS HALE.
Sterling stepped closer.
“You see?”
His confidence returned.
“You never understood where you were.”
I kept my weapon raised.
Sterling smiled.
“You thought you came here to investigate Camp Vora.”
He pointed at my phone.
May you like
“No, Colonel.”
“You came here because somebody needed a scapegoat.”
