Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Called at Midnight
“IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH ABOUT YOUR HUSBAND, STOP ASKING WHAT HE DESTROYED. ASK WHAT HE KEPT.”
The woman's voice was quiet, controlled, and unfamiliar.
I sat in my car outside a twenty-four-hour coffee shop, watching rain streak across the windshield.
It was nearly midnight.
I'd left Graham's estate two hours earlier.
Since then, Evan had called seventeen times.
I hadn't answered once.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“My name is Rebecca Sloan.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“I was a quality assurance analyst at Atlantic Meridian during the Kerr incident.”
I straightened.
“How did you get my number?”
“Through someone who still believes that investigation should have been completed properly.”
“Who?”
“I'm not prepared to identify that person.”
I looked at the challenge coin resting beside me.
“Then why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't. Not yet.”
There was something disarming about her honesty.
“Are you responsible for those messages?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
“To tell you something I should have told an investigator six years ago.”
I waited.
Rebecca took a breath.
“The altered timestamp wasn't an isolated event.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your brother-in-law wasn't the only employee asked to correct documentation after work had already been performed.”
“Were you one of them?”
“No. But I reviewed some of the entries.”
“Did you report what you found?”
“I tried.”
I heard paper rustling.
“My supervisor said I was misunderstanding the workflow. When I continued asking questions, I was reassigned.”
“Who was your supervisor?”
“Martin Voss.”
The name sounded familiar.
I'd seen it in a redacted appendix during the original investigation.
“Was he the maintenance program manager?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Voss had been a senior manager at Atlantic Meridian when the accident occurred.
According to the final report, his team had followed all applicable reporting procedures.
I'd challenged that conclusion.
The investigators had told me they found no evidence of deliberate falsification.
“Why are you coming forward now?” I asked.
Rebecca hesitated.
“Because Martin Voss has been nominated for a senior position overseeing another aviation support program.”
I stared through the windshield.
“And you believe the same problems could happen again.”
“I know they could.”
“What evidence do you have?”
“Copies of the original audit exports.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“Where?”
“Not on this phone.”
I immediately recognized the danger of the conversation.
If Rebecca possessed records potentially relevant to military safety or contractual fraud, they needed to be handled properly.
I wasn't going to conduct my own investigation by collecting sensitive material in a parking lot.
“Rebecca, don't send me anything that contains restricted or proprietary information,” I said.
“Then how do we proceed?”
“Through the appropriate investigative channels.”
She went quiet.
“You still believe the system works?”
“Not perfectly.”
I looked down at my wedding ring.
“But I believe evidence matters more than revenge.”
Rebecca exhaled.
“That's what Daniel Kerr said you would say.”
I froze.
“You know Daniel?”
“He contacted me last month.”
“Why?”
“Because he found something.”
“What?”
A pause.
Then Rebecca answered.
“A copy of your husband's original memorandum.”
I closed my eyes.
My husband had told me the memorandum had been revised.
He hadn't mentioned that a complete original still existed.
“Where did Daniel find it?”
“Inside an archive of correspondence his attorney obtained years ago. It was attached to an email that never should have been included.”
“Did the document identify Chase?”
“Yes.”
My thoughts raced.
“Did it identify Voss?”
“Yes.”
“And Evan changed the memorandum afterward?”
“That's what the document history appears to show.”
I rested my forehead against the steering wheel.
For six years, I'd assumed the investigation had simply failed to establish accountability.
Now I was learning that potentially relevant evidence had been softened before investigators received it.
“Rebecca,” I said, “I need to speak with Daniel.”
“He wants to speak with you.”
“Then have him contact me.”
A moment passed.
“There is one more thing.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Your husband may have retained copies of the original files.”
“I know.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.”
Rebecca's voice lowered.
“Because he tried to report what happened.”
I went still.
“What?”
“He wrote a disclosure letter after the investigation closed.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“He never sent it.”
I looked at my phone.
“Why not?”
“I don't know. But he asked me to review it before he made his decision.”
“Was Chase named?”
“Yes.”
“Was Martin Voss?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't Evan submit it?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Because someone threatened to destroy his career.”
I closed my eyes.
“That still doesn't excuse what he did.”
“No,” she replied. “It doesn't.”
For the first time that night, I felt grateful someone wasn't trying to soften the truth.
Rebecca continued.
“But there is something you should understand before deciding what your husband knew.”
“What?”
“Evan wasn't the person who originally ordered the record changes.”
“I understand that.”
“He wasn't the person who made your testimony appear unreliable, either.”
I frowned.
“He signed the memorandum.”
“Yes. But someone inserted the language before he signed the final version.”
“Who?”
Rebecca paused.
Then she said a name I hadn't expected.
“Graham Maddox.”
My father-in-law.
The decorated retired Marine colonel.
The man who had praised Northstar for years.
The man who had just promised me his support.
I stared at the rain.
“Are you certain?”
“I saw his name on the correspondence.”
“Graham was never employed by Atlantic Meridian.”
May you like
“No,” Rebecca said quietly.
“But he sat on the company's military advisory board.”
