Chương 3
“The guard called somebody,” she added. “Then they let me walk to the building with a soldier. He left when the desk lady said she would handle it.”
Agent Wynn wrote that down.
“Can you tell me where you found the wallet?”
“Under our shoe shelf.”
“Inside the apartment?”
“In the hallway. The shelf was inside before, but they put it outside.”
“Who put it outside?”
“The men taking our stuff.”
“How many men?”
“I don’t know. Four. Maybe five.”
“Were they wearing uniforms?”
“Two had shirts that said Grayline Property Recovery. One man had a tie. One deputy had a brown shirt.”
“Did you see anyone place the wallet under the shelf?”
Ruby shook her head.
“Did you open it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you remove anything?”
“No.”
“You saw the money?”
Ruby looked at Graves. “I counted the hundreds.”
Major Brooks stopped chewing.
“How many?” Agent Wynn asked.
“Twenty-two.”
Sergeant Holloway glanced toward the evidence bag. He had counted twenty-two hundred-dollar bills.
“Did you touch the identification card?”
“Just the edge. I didn’t want fingerprints on it.”
Agent Wynn’s eyebrows lifted. “Why?”
“My dad watched detective shows.”
For the first time, the general’s sternness loosened. Not quite a smile. Something tired and brief.
“Was your father in the Army?” he asked.
Ruby nodded. “Sergeant Caleb Quinn.”
The room became still again.
Graves looked toward Captain Torres.
She was already checking the folder.
“Caleb Joseph Quinn,” she said quietly. “Killed during the East Range vehicle rollover. Two years ago.”
Ruby did not like the word killed when adults used it as if it were a line on paper. Her mother said lost when speaking to strangers and died when speaking to Ruby. Killed belonged to news reports and men at the funeral who had not known what Caleb ate when he could not sleep.
General Graves looked at Ruby.
“I was commanding Fort Aldridge when your father died.”
“My mom knows.”
The answer made him sit back.
Before he could ask what that meant, Agent Wynn continued.
“Ruby, what happened before the eviction workers arrived?”
“My mom was getting ready to come here.”
Captain Torres’s pen stopped.
“She was coming to headquarters?”
“She said she had a meeting with somebody important. She changed shirts three times. Then she said it didn’t matter because important people only look at papers.”
Graves looked down at the pink notice.
“What was the meeting about?”
“She said people were taking money that belonged to families.”
Agent Wynn’s expression sharpened. “Did she say which people?”
“No.”
“Did she have documents?”
“A blue folder.”
“Where is it?”
Ruby thought of the kitchen table, the boxes, the open drawers.
“I don’t know.”
The general leaned forward.
“Was the blue folder with her when the sheriff took her?”
“No. I think she put it in her car.”
“Where is the car?”
“At Hawthorn Court.”
Agent Wynn stood. “I need the county dispatch supervisor, the sheriff’s watch commander, and a preservation request sent to Grayline and Hawthorn Court. Also a warrant attorney.”
Major Brooks rose with her.
“I’ll handle jurisdiction.”
“Handle it quickly.”
“Quickly and legally are not always roommates.”
“They can share a wall tonight.”
Brooks gave him a look that suggested the general had made similar demands before. Then he left with Agent Wynn.
Ruby watched the door close.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she asked.
Captain Torres answered first. “We’re locating your mother.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The captain’s face tightened.
General Graves folded the pink notice along an existing crease, then stopped when he realized it was evidence and laid it flat again.
“You’re right,” he said. “We don’t know yet.”
Ruby looked at him. Adults usually answered difficult questions with soon, okay, or don’t worry. She distrusted all three.
“You locked the doors because of my paper?”
“Because of the wallet and the paper together.”
“Did my mom steal it?”
“No.”
The speed of his answer surprised everyone, including him.
Agent Wynn had not said that. No evidence had proved it. General Graves seemed to recognize the mistake because he added, “I have no reason to believe she did.”
Ruby rubbed the frayed backpack strap between her fingers.
“The desk lady did.”
Graves’s gaze shifted to the wall.
“Yes,” he said. “She did.”
Outside the conference room, the lobby had become a machine for containing discomfort. Soldiers were released in small groups after their identities and movements were documented. Visitors complained about missed flights, child-care pickups, and a dinner reservation for twelve. One civilian contractor threatened to call a senator, though he could not remember the senator’s name when Sergeant Holloway asked him to include it in his written statement.
Diane Mercer requested an attorney.
Her request transformed the room around her. Before that, she had been an impatient receptionist caught in the general’s anger. Afterward, every person who heard about it treated her silence as evidence.
Agent Wynn did not.
“People ask for attorneys because they are guilty,” the younger MP, Park, said near the elevators.
“People ask for attorneys because officers like you think asking means they’re guilty,” Wynn replied.
Park colored.
She assigned him to collect exterior camera footage.
At six twelve, the county sheriff’s watch commander confirmed that Heather Quinn had been detained for obstructing a court-ordered removal and allegedly striking a Grayline employee.
At six twenty, a deputy corrected the report. Heather had not struck anyone. She had grabbed a cardboard box from an employee’s hands after he dropped it.
At six forty-one, the county attorney found no active court order authorizing the eviction.
At seven three, Grayline Property Recovery stopped answering its phones.
Ruby ate half a turkey sandwich from the headquarters cafeteria. She removed the tomato and folded it into a napkin because she did not like the wet part touching the bread. Captain Torres gave her apple juice in a paper cup after discovering the vending machine had only energy drinks and orange soda.
May you like
General Graves took a phone call in the hallway.
Ruby could hear his voice through the door.
