Chương 12
I looked at Marcus.
He nodded once.
Not agreement with her authority.
Agreement with her logic.
I called my mother.
She answered on the first ring.
“What?”
“Where are you?”
“Three blocks from the diner.”
“Do not go there.”
Silence.
Then, “Why?”
“Travis came back.”
Another silence.
“What did he do?”
“He left something on your car.”
“I’m going to look.”
“No.”
“Nicole.”
“Mom, state agents are responding.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“No.”
“Then I’m going.”
“Don’t.”
She made the irritated sound I had known since childhood.
“Don’t order me around.”
“I am asking.”
“You are terrible at asking.”
“Fine.”
I shut my eyes.
“Please.”
That stopped her.
I almost never used the word with her when I was scared.
She knew the difference.
“What did he leave?”
“Something with writing.”
“What writing?”
I did not want to tell her.
That was reason enough to tell her.
“It says Dad found B-17 too.”
Her breathing changed.
“Frank never told me he found it.”
“Stay with Sam.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere public and away from the diner.”
She whispered something to Sam.
Then came back.
“We’ll go to Carol’s sister’s place.”
“Good.”
“Nicole.”
“Yes?”
“He found it.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Frank found B-17 before he died.”
I looked toward the storage rows.
The implication had been sitting in front of us.
I had refused to touch it.
If my father had already reached B-17, then the records hidden there might not simply explain pressure against other property owners.
They might explain what happened next.
“Stay where people can see you,” I said.
“And keep your phone on.”
“You too.”
She ended the call.
Whitaker watched me.
“You need to sit this next part out.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“Then you’ll need to explain your authority to detain me.”
Marcus whispered, “Nicole.”
Whitaker’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m not detaining you.”
“Good.”
“I’m telling you that you are becoming too personally involved to make clean decisions.”
“I was personally involved before you arrived.”
“Yes.”
“And that is exactly why I’m telling you.”
I folded my arms.
She continued.
“If Travis knows about B-17, then the county archive building may already be compromised.”
“So we go now.”
“We secure it now.”
“With me there.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if we encounter Harper, Cain, or anyone acting on their behalf, your presence changes the confrontation.”
“That’s not a legal reason.”
“It’s an operational one.”
She was right.
I hated her a little for it.
Marcus said, “You can help from the diner.”
I turned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Yours.”
“That answer is getting less convincing.”
He stepped closer.
“You have the source witness, the original diner recording, June, your mother, and the documents Raymond left.”
“Copies.”
“Exactly.”
He lowered his voice.
“Protect the evidence we already have.”
I looked at Whitaker.
“What happens at the archive building?”
“We establish perimeter control.”
“And then?”
“We wait for the search warrant.”
“And if someone is already inside?”
“Then we deal with what is actually happening.”
That was the closest thing to a promise she was going to give me.
I nodded.
Barely.
She turned to Greene.
“Go.”
They left in separate cars.
Marcus watched them disappear.
“You’re angry.”
“I’m observant.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I looked at him.
“You have a limited vocabulary today.”
“It’s been effective.”
We took Luis’s van back toward town because Sam still had the diner’s vehicle.
Halfway there, Marcus’s phone rang.
He answered with his rank and name.
Then his posture changed.
“Yes, sir.”
I looked over.
He listened for nearly a minute.
“Understood.”
Another pause.
“No, sir, she has not involved unit personnel beyond transportation and personal support.”
My stomach tightened.
The call was about me.
Marcus glanced at me once.
“Yes, sir.”
He ended it.
“Who?”
“Brigade commander.”
“What does he want?”
“To know why photos of two Army vehicles outside a civilian diner are circulating online.”
I stared through the windshield.
Of course they were.
“How bad?”
“Not bad yet.”
“Yet.”
“He wants a written explanation before close of business.”
“That’s fair.”
“He also wants you reminded that your rank cannot appear to influence a local criminal matter.”
“I know that.”
“He knows you know it.”
“That’s usually when commanders say things twice.”
Marcus almost smiled.
Then his expression flattened.
“There’s another issue.”
“What?”
“Someone tagged the division public affairs account under the video.”
I looked at him.
“Which video?”
“The shove.”
My pulse dropped.
“Kayla’s?”
“No.”
“The twelve-second clip.”
“Who posted it?”
“Unknown account originally.”
“Then?”
“Shared everywhere.”
I leaned back.
Public attention was the last thing I wanted.
Not because Travis deserved privacy.
Because noise complicated evidence.
People edited clips.
Invented context.
Found old photos.
Picked teams.
Witnesses who had spent years being afraid sometimes became more afraid when strangers began calling them heroes.
“Can we get it taken down?”
Marcus gave me a look.
“No.”
“Right.”
“Also, your mother is apparently becoming locally famous.”
“What?”
He held up his phone.
A still image showed my mother behind the counter with her sling visible.
Someone had added text above it.
DON’T PUSH MISS EVELYN.
Below that, another line.
SHE MAKES THE BEST PIE IN THREE COUNTIES.
I stared at it.
“That is not even true.”
Marcus looked at me.
“What?”
“Her pie is average.”
He laughed.
I did too.
It lasted maybe five seconds.
Then guilt hit me for laughing at all.
Marcus saw that.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“That.”
I turned toward the road.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You stopped laughing because you decided you weren’t allowed.”
“Drive.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
By the time we reached the diner, two state vehicles were already outside.
So were three local news vans.
I swore.
Marcus parked behind the building.
“Back door.”
“Agreed.”
We entered through the kitchen.
Luis was cutting onions with unnecessary violence.
June sat at the prep table drinking coffee.
Kayla was speaking with a state investigator near the walk-in refrigerator.
She looked at me, then at Marcus.
“You left me.”
“I came back.”
May you like
“I noticed.”
There was anger under the words.
