Chapter 3 - The Retirement GiftI called Tom immediately.
No answer.
I tried again.
The call went to voicemail.
My father watched me with growing irritation.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"No."
His eyebrows rose.
I slipped my phone into my jacket.
"For twenty-two years, you didn't want to know anything about my life. Tonight you accused me of being a criminal. Now you're asking me to listen because your company might be in trouble."
"Callie—"
"Do you know where Garrett went?"
"I told you. The warehouse."
"Who told him to go there?"
Harlan frowned.
"Why does it matter?"
"Because a missing engineer, suspicious contractor access, and an urgent shipment are three things I wouldn't ignore."
He stepped closer.
"You're talking about my business as if it's some criminal operation."
"I haven't accused you of anything."
"Then stop treating me like a suspect."
I met his eyes.
"Stop behaving like someone who's afraid of questions."
He looked genuinely wounded.
Years ago, that expression would have made me apologize.
Not anymore.
I walked away and called Commander Brooks.
"Tom Miller may be at risk. He sent me a message saying someone was watching his house."
Brooks responded immediately.
"Forward the messages through the secure reporting channel. We'll coordinate with local law enforcement and federal investigators."
"His retirement plaque may contain evidence."
"Do you have it?"
"No."
"Don't retrieve it yourself. Let the investigative team handle preservation."
I looked across the ballroom toward the stage.
A large polished wooden plaque rested on a blue velvet-covered table.
Engraved brass lettering honored Master Chief Thomas Miller for thirty-eight years of naval service.
The retirement ceremony had been interrupted before anyone could present it to him.
"Commander," I said, "I think the plaque is still here."
"Stay where you are. An investigator will contact hotel security."
I moved closer to the stage but did not touch the plaque.
Something about its placement bothered me.
The presentation table had been arranged earlier in the evening.
I remembered seeing the plaque in a display case when I entered the ballroom.
Now it was lying face down.
A young hotel employee stood nearby.
"Excuse me," I said. "Did someone move that plaque?"
She looked nervous.
"I don't know, ma'am."
"What's your name?"
"Rachel."
"Rachel, I'm not asking you to get involved in anything dangerous. I only need to know whether you saw someone touch it."
She glanced toward the ballroom doors.
"A man in a blue suit came up here about ten minutes ago."
"Dark blond hair?"
She nodded.
"He said he was the sponsor's son."
Garrett.
"What did he do?"
"He opened the display case."
"Did he take anything?"
"I didn't see."
She hesitated.
"But afterward, he looked angry."
"Did he move the plaque?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I thanked her and kept the plaque in sight until a federal investigator arrived.
Special Agent Rebecca Shaw of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service was a compact woman in her early forties with an exceptionally calm manner.
She introduced herself, confirmed my account, and arranged for the plaque to be documented and secured.
"Admiral, you understand that your family relationship may make you a witness rather than an investigator in this matter."
"Completely."
"Good."
She examined the plaque without immediately opening it.
A technician photographed every surface.
Then Shaw pointed to the backing.
"Interesting."
"What?"
"One of the screws is newer than the others."
The technician carefully removed the backing under controlled conditions.
Inside was a folded paper envelope.
Shaw opened it.
There were three items.
A small storage device.
A handwritten note.
And a photograph of Evelyn Price standing beside a smiling man I recognized.
Garrett Vance.
Shaw read the note silently.
Her expression hardened.
"What does it say?" I asked.
She hesitated, then handed me a copy of the first sentence.
If this reaches the Navy, the altered components may already be aboard operational vessels.
A cold sensation spread through me.
"How many vessels?"
Shaw looked at the document.
"She doesn't specify here."
I scanned the next line.
The changes weren't accidental. Someone wanted the equipment to fail under precisely the conditions it was designed to survive.
I felt my breath catch.
"Agent Shaw, this needs to go to the technical review team immediately."
"It will."
She studied the photograph.
"How well do you know Garrett Vance?"
"He's my father's stepson."
"Anything else?"
"He's ambitious. He works in executive management. And he was the one who first spotted me at tonight's event."
Shaw glanced toward the entrance.
"He's also just become a person we'd very much like to interview."
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice whispered, "Admiral Vance?"
"Speaking."
"My name is Evelyn Price."
I stood perfectly still.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"Are you safe?"
"No."
A muffled sound came through the phone.
Then Evelyn whispered something that made my blood run cold.
May you like
"Garrett knows about the evidence. And your father signed the authorization."
The call disconnected.
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