Chapter 5: The Man Who Controlled the Doors
The request to delete the credential history was stopped before the system could complete it.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that someone had tried to erase the evidence while an active investigation was underway.
Agent Donovan returned to my room with two additional investigators, a laptop, and a document preservation order. She said very little until the hospital room door closed behind her.
"Captain, we're treating the deletion request as potential interference with an active investigation.""
"Does Monroe know?""
"He has been formally notified.""
"And?""
"He has requested counsel before giving further answers.""
I looked at the ceiling.
There it was.
The line between a misunderstanding and a conspiracy was getting thinner with every passing hour.
"Could someone have used his account?"" I asked.
"Yes.""
"Could someone have impersonated him?""
"That depends on the authentication records. We are examining those now.""
"Then don't tell me he did it until you know.""
Donovan studied me for a moment.
"I won't.""
She placed a small recorder on the bedside table and explained that she needed to ask me formal questions about the commissioning ceremony.
I agreed.
The interview began with ordinary details. Where I had been standing. Which guests had arrived early. Whether I had noticed Charles before the first shot.
I answered each question carefully.
I remembered the sunlight hitting the polished brass on the podium. I remembered the band beginning the final piece. I remembered Charles walking between two rows of seated guests as if he had every right to be there.
Then I remembered his face when he saw me.
He hadn't looked confused.
He hadn't looked surprised to discover I was there.
He had looked satisfied.
"Did he say anything before he fired?"" Donovan asked.
I closed my eyes.
"Not immediately.""
"What do you recall?""
"He called my name.""
"Your first name?""
"Yes. Naomi.""
"And after that?""
I swallowed.
"He told me I was making a mistake. He said I had embarrassed him, abandoned him, and forgotten who had raised me.""
Donovan's expression remained neutral.
"What happened next?""
"He pulled the gun.""
"Did anyone attempt to stop him?""
"A security officer moved toward him. Charles fired before the officer reached him.""
"And then?""
I opened my eyes.
"He pointed the weapon at me.""
The room seemed to shrink around me.
"He said I still belonged to him.""
Donovan paused the recording.
"Take a moment.""
"I don't need a moment.""
"You don't have to prove anything to me.""
I looked at her.
"Everyone keeps saying that. Meanwhile, the people who should have protected me were apparently busy arranging access for him.""
She let the silence settle.
Then she restarted the recording.
When the interview ended, Donovan collected her materials.
"We've confirmed the guest credential was approved through Monroe's office," she said.
"We have not yet determined who physically entered the information or whether the approval was authentic.""
"Can you trace the request back to a device?""
"We're trying.""
"What happens if it leads to Hales?""
"Then we'll investigate Hales.""
"And if it leads to Monroe?""
"We'll investigate Monroe.""
There was no dramatic reassurance. No promise that everything would be fine.
For the first time that day, I appreciated that.
After the investigators left, Kim returned with a tablet showing the approved guest list from the ceremony.
"Look at this," she said.
She pointed to a column labeled SPONSORING OFFICER.
Most of the names had clearly identified sponsors. Unit commanders. Administrative officers. Event coordinators.
Charles's entry was different.
It read:
*SPECIAL ACCESS — SENIOR COMMAND EXCEPTION.*
Under the authorization field appeared General Lucas Monroe's electronic signature.
The timestamp was eleven minutes after the final guest list had been locked.
"Someone bypassed the normal process," I said.
"Yes.""
"Could Monroe have done that himself?""
"Technically, senior command has the authority to approve certain exceptions. But a protected person subject to a civil protective order should have triggered a separate review.""
"Which didn't happen.""
"Correct.""
I enlarged the screen.
The sponsor field contained a small notation beside Monroe's signature.
*REQUEST INITIATED BY P. HALES.*
Kim leaned against the bed.
"That means Hales submitted the request through the command liaison office. Monroe's credentials were used to approve it.""
"Did Monroe personally approve it?""
"We don't know yet.""
"Can we find out?""
"We're working on it.""
A chill passed through me.
Hales had been involved in the detention visit.
He had been involved in the ceremony access request.
And now his name appeared beside the official authorization that had allowed Charles into a place he should never have entered.
Two incidents could have been coincidence.
Three were beginning to look like a system.
"Contact Bell," I said.
"Tell him not to access anything else without authorization. He should preserve the records he has already identified and document exactly how he obtained them.""
Kim nodded.
Then she looked at me with a strange expression.
"What?""
"I've been thinking about the photograph.""
"So have I.""
"The uniform insignia might be identifiable from the original image. If we can enhance the photograph without altering the source, we may be able to determine the unit.""
"Let Donovan's forensic team handle it.""
"Already did.""
I blinked.
"You submitted it?""
"Through the proper evidence channel. You're welcome.""
"You're enjoying this.""
"Not even slightly.""
She sat down.
"There's another issue. Bell says the credential deletion request wasn't made through Monroe's usual workstation.""
"Whose device?""
"The request came from a remote administrative terminal. The system records the terminal's location, but not the person standing in front of it.""
"Where?""
"Joint detention oversight. Office corridor outside Hales's section.""
I stared at her.
"So someone in Hales's area tried to erase the records.""
"That's what the access data suggests.""
I pulled my blanket tighter.
"What if Hales is acting for Monroe?""
"Then we'll find evidence of that. What if he's acting against him?""
I looked at her.
Kim continued.
"Think about it. Someone uses Monroe's credentials to authorize Charles's entry. Someone uses Hales's credentials to facilitate the detention visit.
Then someone tries to erase the history from a terminal near Hales's office. Either both men are involved, or somebody is deliberately making the records point at them.""
"And if that somebody wants me to suspect Monroe?""
"Then we need to be even more careful.""
I looked at the photograph of my mother.
She had gone to someone for help six months before she died. Someone had taken her home that night. Someone had allowed the second report to disappear.
I was beginning to see a pattern.
Charles never operated alone.
He preferred intermediaries. People with respectable titles and clean uniforms. People who could make his problems vanish while insisting they were merely following procedure.
The loudest man in the room wasn't necessarily the most dangerous.
Sometimes the most dangerous person was the one holding the keys.
My phone vibrated against the mattress.
I wasn't supposed to have it within reach, but Kim had made sure it was returned to me after the evidence procedures were complete.
An unknown number appeared on the screen.
One message.
*Stop asking who opened the door. Ask who gave Charles the gun.*
I read it three times.
Kim took one look at my face and reached for the phone.
"Don't reply.""
"I wasn't going to.""
"Good.""
She photographed the message and documented the time.
Then she called Donovan.
While she was speaking, I studied the words again.
Charles had brought a pistol into a secured military venue. That fact alone meant someone had failed to detect it, someone had facilitated his arrival, or someone had knowingly allowed the weapon through.
But the message implied something worse.
Someone hadn't merely helped Charles enter.
Someone had supplied the means for him to kill me.
"Ji-woo," I said.
She ended the call.
"What?""
"Do we have the serial number of the weapon?""
"Investigators recovered it at the scene.""
"Was it registered to Charles?""
"We don't know yet.""
"Find out whether the weapon came from his personal collection or whether someone obtained it for him.""
Kim's expression sharpened.
"That's for the investigators.""
"Then make sure they ask.""
A knock came at the door.
Agent Donovan returned alone.
"We've identified the weapon," she said.
"It's not registered to Charles Grant.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Whose is it?""
She set a sealed evidence photograph on the bedside table.
"The pistol was purchased nine years ago through a licensed dealer. The original purchaser was a security contractor who later worked on installations associated with several military facilities.""
"What's his name?""
Donovan looked at me.
Then she turned the photograph over.
A name had been printed on the evidence label.
*PATRICK HALES.*
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Donovan spoke again.
"There's one more detail. The weapon was reported missing eight years ago.""
"By Hales?""
"Yes.""
"Was there an investigation?""
"An incident report was filed. No criminal charges followed.""
I stared at the name.
Hales had reported the weapon missing.
Hales had initiated Charles's special-access request.
Hales had facilitated the detention visit.
And now someone using a terminal near his office had tried to erase the visitor history.
I looked at Donovan.
"Where is Hales now?""
She didn't answer immediately.
That frightened me more than anything else she could have said.
"He's been placed on administrative leave," she finally replied.
"But when investigators arrived at his office this afternoon, he was gone.""
"Since when?""
"His security badge was used to exit the installation forty-seven minutes before the preservation order was issued.""
I looked toward the closed door.
The people who had protected Charles for nine years were no longer content to hide the truth.
May you like
They were moving.
And whoever had taken that weapon wanted to make certain I would never learn why.
