Chapter 7 - WHAT WAS ON THE DRIVE
The federal investigators arrived at 7:40 a.m.
Special Agent Lena Ortiz from the Defense Criminal Investigative Service.
Special Agent Marcus Bell from the FBI.
Neither smiled much.
I liked them immediately.
I handed Ortiz the USB.
“My parents tried to strand us in the desert over this.”
She put it into an evidence bag.
“Do you know what’s on it?”
“Invoices. Transfers. Contract records.”
“Anything else?”
“Not that I saw.”
Bell leaned forward.
“Lieutenant Colonel Bennett, we need to ask something directly.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did you provide your father access to secure procurement information?”
“No.”
“Did you ever authorize Bennett Strategic Logistics to use your military credentials?”
“No.”
“Did you receive money from your father?”
“Birthday checks.”
Bell didn’t smile.
“How much?”
“Usually two hundred dollars.”
Ortiz almost did.
Then she opened a file.
My name appeared on three transfer records.
$480,000.
$725,000.
$1.2 million.
Money had passed through an account in my name.
An account I had never opened.
“They stole my identity.”
“That appears possible,” Ortiz said carefully.
“Possible?”
“We verify first.”
Fair enough.
That was how investigations worked.
My phone buzzed.
Ray.
I answered on speaker.
“Where are you?”
“Police station.”
“Are you safe?”
“For now.”
He breathed hard.
“Claire, I lied.”
Agent Bell looked at me.
“About what?”
“Robert.”
The accountant.
“What about him?”
“He called me yesterday afternoon.”
“What did he say?”
“He wanted out.”
“Out of what?”
“The company.”
I stood.
“Ray, what company?”
“Not Bennett Strategic.”
Silence.
“A second operation.”
“What operation?”
“He said Walter was moving military equipment through private carriers, billing the government for shipments that never existed, then selling real inventory overseas.”
Ortiz’s pen stopped.
“Ray,” I said. “Who overseas?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who else knew?”
“Robert. Walter. Maybe Diane.”
“Maybe?”
Ray laughed bitterly.
“Your mother knew everything.”
That hurt in a different way.
Dad had always been controlling.
Mom had always pretended she was surviving him.
Growing up, I had defended her.
Made excuses for her.
Told myself Dad was the storm and Mom was another person trapped inside it.
I had been wrong.
“Robert told me he copied records,” Ray continued. “He planned to meet federal agents.”
“When?”
“Today.”
My stomach tightened.
“And now there’s blood in his car.”
“Yes.”
“Ray, why did my father send you after my USB?”
“Because he thought Robert gave you the files.”
“He didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“Where did the man at the hospital come from?”
“What man?”
I described him.
Ray went silent.
“Ray.”
“I think his name is Nolan Price.”
Agent Ortiz wrote the name.
“Who is he?”
“Security contractor. Walter uses him when he needs problems handled.”
“What kind of problems?”
Ray whispered, “The kind people stop asking about.”
Noah was asleep.
Thank God.
“Ray, listen to me carefully. Do not leave the police station.”
“I already did.”
“What?”
“Walter called.”
Every person in the room froze.
“Why would you answer?”
“He has my daughter.”
My heart stopped.
Ray’s daughter, Emily.
Twenty-two.
College senior.
“What does he want?”
“The drive.”
“Ray—”
“He said if I bring it to the old Silver Basin processing yard by noon, Emily walks away.”
Bell was already signaling another agent.
“Stay where you are,” I said.
“I can’t.”
“Ray.”
“I’m sorry.”
The call ended.
Ortiz stood.
“We need the location.”
I gave it to her.
Bell headed for the door.
I looked at Noah.
Then at the agents.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“My uncle’s daughter is there because of me.”
Ortiz shook her head.
“Your father is expecting you.”
“Exactly.”
“That makes you a target.”
I looked at her.
“I’ve been a target since 2:13 this morning.”
Then my phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
One photograph.
Emily tied to a metal chair.
May you like
Behind her stood my father.
And beside him, alive and bleeding from the forehead, was Robert Haines.
