Chương 3
For the first time that night, she wasn’t performing for anyone.
And for the first time in years, my father looked at Fiona as though the story he had been telling about his favorite daughter might have an ending he had never bothered to learn.
Fiona stared at the evaluation sheet as if the paper itself had betrayed her.
“Give me that.”
“No.”
Her hand stopped between us.
Arthur moved closer, his shoes grinding into the gravel.
“What the hell is in there?”
Fiona’s eyes never left mine.
“Nothing.”
Raymond gave a short, humorless breath.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
Donovan stood several feet behind Fiona, and the space between them suddenly seemed larger than the entire range.
“What does it say?”
Fiona turned on him too quickly.
“It’s an internal document, Don.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Her jaw tightened.
Arthur reached toward the folder.
I stepped back.
“Don’t.”
He looked genuinely offended.
“I’m your father.”
“And this isn’t yours.”
“You bring some secret file onto my property, wave it in your sister’s face in front of everybody, and tell me it isn’t my business?”
“I didn’t wave anything.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
Arthur was trying to make the argument about manners because manners were easier than evidence.
Behind him, guests shifted uneasily.
A woman I recognized from Fiona’s office lowered her phone.
One of Donovan’s cousins whispered that maybe they should go back to the house.
No one moved.
Fiona finally looked toward the crowd.
That seemed to remind her she still had an audience.
Her shoulders straightened.
“Joselyn has access to records because she does administrative support.”
“Logistics compliance,” I said.
She ignored me.
“She sees a document she doesn’t understand, and suddenly she thinks she’s conducting an investigation.”
“I didn’t start the investigation.”
That silenced her.
Donovan’s face changed.
“What investigation?”
Arthur looked from me to Fiona.
“What is she talking about?”
Fiona rubbed her thumb against the edge of her engagement ring.
It was such a small movement that I nearly missed it.
She used to do the same thing with her high school class ring whenever she lied to our mother.
“There was a records issue,” she said.
“A clerical thing.”
Raymond folded his arms.
“What kind of records issue?”
“Why are you involved?”
“You put on a marksmanship badge and started talking about qualification standards in front of me.”
His voice remained mild.
“That made me curious.”
Fiona laughed, but there was no amusement in it.
“So now everybody’s an expert.”
“No.”
He nodded toward me.
“But she seems to have paperwork.”
Arthur turned to me.
“Then read it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because this isn’t a courtroom, and half these people shouldn’t even be standing here.”
“That didn’t bother you when you pulled it out.”
The words landed harder than I wanted them to.
Arthur saw it.
He had always been quick to recognize weakness in other people, especially mine.
“You wanted this,” he said.
“You wanted to embarrass her.”
I looked at Fiona.
For one ugly second, I couldn’t deny it.
Not entirely.
“I brought the file before any of this happened.”
“Why?”
“To talk to her.”
“Then talk.”
“Privately.”
Fiona gave a brittle laugh.
“Now you want privacy?”
I closed the folder.
“Yes.”
She stared at me.
Something restless moved through the group behind us.
People had come expecting cake, music, and drunken stories about Donovan.
Instead, they were standing at a firing range while two sisters argued over a military credential no one fully understood.
The absurdity of it seemed to reach Donovan first.
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“Everyone should go back.”
Arthur frowned.
“We’re not done.”
“Yes, we are.”
Donovan’s voice was quiet, but people listened to him.
Maybe because he wasn’t trying to dominate anyone.
“Ray, could you make sure nobody touches the rifles?”
“Gladly.”
Raymond stepped toward the cabinet.
Donovan looked at the guests.
“Seriously, guys.”
A few began drifting toward the gate.
Phones disappeared into pockets.
Fiona watched them leave, and I saw anger replace fear.
Public attention had been her protection.
Without it, she had to deal with us.
Arthur stayed.
Of course he stayed.
Donovan waited until the last of the guests had passed through the gate.
Then he shut it.
The click of the latch sounded too final.
“Now,” he said, “somebody tell me what’s happening.”
Fiona crossed her arms.
“Ask her.”
He looked at me.
I opened the folder again.
The first page was a credential reconciliation notice.
Boring language.
Codes, dates, initials.
Nothing dramatic until you understood what one mismatched number could mean.
“Three weeks ago, I received a discrepancy report involving an issued qualification badge.”
Fiona rolled her eyes.
“You make it sound like a federal case.”
“I’m making it sound like what it is.”
“Which is?”
“Your credential number matched a badge authorized to someone else.”
Arthur waved a hand.
“So somebody typed a number wrong.”
“That was the first assumption.”
Fiona’s face remained blank.
I turned to the second page.
“The authorization attached to Fiona’s record was dated six days after she left the course.”
Donovan looked at her.
She stared at the gravel.
I continued.
“The instructor signature didn’t match the verified signature on the original evaluation.”
Arthur’s expression shifted slightly.
“Verified by who?”
“Records.”
“People make mistakes.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“They do.”
Fiona seized on that.
“Exactly.”
“So the file was reviewed.”
Her head lifted.
“By who?”
“You already know.”
The first real crack appeared.
Her mouth opened and closed.
Donovan noticed.
“Fi?”
She turned away from him.
I pulled out the evaluation.
“This is the original instructor report.”
Arthur reached for it again.
This time I let him see the top half without giving it to him.
His eyes moved slowly over the page.
He hated reading anything that looked bureaucratic.
“What does it say?”
Fiona answered before I could.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Arthur glanced at her.
“Then let her say it.”
May you like
“No.”
The force of the word startled even her.
