Chapter 3 - The Man in the Photograph
By sunrise, I had convinced myself the message could be a trap.
By eight, I had found evidence that it wasn't.
General Hale stood across from me as I showed him the restored metadata.
"Victor accessed the file the day after your mother's funeral," he said.
"Yes."
"That doesn't prove he deleted it."
"The system says he did."
Hale shook his head.
"The system says his credentials were used."
I stared at him.
"You're saying someone used his account?"
"I'm saying we need to stop assuming the logs tell the whole story."
That was the problem with military investigations.
Every answer created three more questions.
At nine, my father arrived.
Alone.
He looked older than he had the day before.
"Where's Blake?"
"At home."
"Lorraine?"
"She thinks I came here to make peace."
I almost smiled.
"Did you?"
"No."
"Good."
We sat across from one another in a small conference room.
He refused coffee.
I refused his apology before he could give one.
"Tell me about my mother."
His eyes dropped.
"Your mother was brilliant."
"I know."
"She was also stubborn."
"I know that too."
"She found something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
I stared at him.
"Try again."
He rubbed his forehead.
"She found irregularities in supplier invoices."
"Thirty-four million dollars?"
His face changed.
"Where did you hear that?"
"General Hale."
Victor looked toward the door.
"You shouldn't trust him."
"Why?"
"Because he was involved in the original investigation."
"So?"
"So the investigation wasn't what you think."
I leaned closer.
"What happened?"
Victor's hands trembled.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
"Your mother believed someone inside the government was working with a group of contractors."
"Who?"
"We never knew."
"Never?"
"No."
"You expect me to believe that?"
He looked at me.
"I was trying to keep you alive."
The room became very quiet.
"You abandoned me."
"I pushed you away."
"That's the same thing."
"No."
He swallowed.
"Your mother received threats."
"From whom?"
"I don't know."
"You keep saying you don't know."
"Because every time I learned something, another person disappeared."
I didn't move.
"Who disappeared?"
"Two auditors."
"What happened?"
"One resigned."
"And the other?"
Victor looked toward the floor.
"Was found dead."
My skin prickled.
"Did you kill him?"
His head snapped up.
"No."
"Did you help cover it up?"
He didn't answer.
I already had my answer.
"That's what you were protecting?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"You."
The word was so quiet I almost missed it.
I stood.
"You're lying."
"I wish I were."
He reached into his coat.
He placed an old envelope on the table.
My mother's handwriting was on the front.
MAYA.
My breath caught.
"Where did you get this?"
"She gave it to me the night before she died."
I stared at him.
"You said she died in an accident."
"She did."
"Then why did she give you this?"
"Because she knew she was in danger."
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Three people stood outside a government building.
My mother.
Victor.
A much younger Marcus Hale.
Behind them was a fourth man.
I didn't recognize him.
But Victor did.
His face drained.
"Who is that?"
Victor whispered:
"Daniel Voss."
"Who?"
"He was the executive who handled Caldwell's military contracts."
I looked at Hale's image.
"He worked with General Hale?"
"At the time."
"What happened to him?"
Victor's eyes moved to mine.
"He died two months before your mother."
I looked at the photograph again.
Something was written on the back.
If anything happens to me, Voss wasn't working alone.
I turned it over.
Victor was already standing.
"Where are you going?"
"Home."
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
"You don't understand."
"You don't get to walk away again."
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then he said something I never expected.
"Your mother didn't trust me."
"What?"
"She thought I'd chosen the company over her."
"Did you?"
"At first."
The admission hurt more than any lie.
"What changed?"
"She found a ledger."
"What ledger?"
"I never saw it."
"Then why are you telling me about it?"
"Because somebody found out she had it."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
The door opened.
General Hale walked in.
Victor turned.
The two men stared at one another.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Hale said:
"Victor."
My father laughed without humor.
"So you finally came."
Hale's eyes hardened.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I had to see her."
"You've seen her."
"No."
Victor looked at me.
"I needed to know whether you had her mother's eyes."
My chest tightened.
"What does that mean?"
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
"When you're ready to know what really happened to your mother, ask Hale why he never delivered her final report."
He left.
I turned to the general.
"Did you?"
Hale didn't answer.
"Did you deliver my mother's report?"
He looked at the photograph in my hand.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I wasn't allowed to."
"By whom?"
He stared at the closed door.
"By the man standing in that photograph."
I looked down.
Daniel Voss.
The dead executive.
Then I noticed something I'd missed.
His hand was resting on the shoulder of a young boy.
The boy was about ten.
The caption under the photograph read:
Voss Family — Washington Reception.
May you like
I knew the boy.
Blake Caldwell.
