Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO STOLE MY FACE
I didn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Conrad Mercer's silver ring.
A snake wrapped around itself.
I remembered the $250,000 payment Daniel had mentioned.
Eleven days before the attack.
Eleven days before Captain Lena Ortiz died.
Eleven days before I woke up in a field hospital with shrapnel wounds, a fractured shoulder, and the knowledge that someone I'd trusted with my life was never coming home.
I had survived because Lena pushed me behind a concrete barrier moments before the second explosion.
She hadn't reached cover herself.
For five months, I'd carried the weight of that moment.
Now I wondered whether my parents had helped create it.
At six thirty the following morning, Maya called.
“Don't turn on the television.”
That was all she said.
Naturally, I turned it on.
My photograph filled the screen.
Underneath it, a news banner announced:
MILITARY COLONEL LINKED TO MULTIMILLION-DOLLAR FEDERAL FRAUD INVESTIGATION.
I stood motionless.
A local reporter described my parents' arrests, the Riverstone investigation, and allegations of forged military authorizations.
Most of the report was cautious.
But one sentence made my stomach twist.
“Sources familiar with the investigation say authorities are examining whether Colonel Ellison may have benefited from the transactions.”
Benefited.
I looked around my anonymous hotel room.
One suitcase.
A military duffel bag.
A vending-machine breakfast I hadn't touched.
My career under review.
My father in federal custody.
My mother refusing to explain why she'd apparently expected me to die overseas.
Yes.
I was certainly enjoying the benefits.
My phone began vibrating.
Former colleagues.
Neighbors.
People I hadn't spoken to since high school.
Some wanted answers.
Others wanted gossip.
A few simply wanted to know whether the allegations were true.
I ignored them all.
Then a message appeared from an unfamiliar number.
Colonel Ellison, this is Cassidy Reed with the Richmond Ledger. I believe someone is trying to make you the face of a much larger crime.
I stared at the screen.
Before I could respond, Maya called again.
“I told you not to watch.”
“You didn't tell me why.”
“Because I didn't want you responding emotionally to a story designed to provoke exactly that.”
“Who leaked my name?”
“That's what Daniel is investigating.”
I sat beside the window.
“There's a reporter named Cassidy Reed trying to contact me.”
Maya paused.
“I know. Don't answer yet.”
“Why?”
“Because a journalist can help expose a lie, but anything you say without preparation can create another problem.”
I looked at the message again.
The face of a much larger crime.
It was an unsettling choice of words.
My face was exactly what someone had stolen.
At ten o'clock, Daniel arranged for me to review additional evidence at the federal building.
Grace accompanied me.
The building's corridors were cold and painfully quiet.
People moved past us carrying files and coffee cups, living perfectly ordinary mornings.
I envied every one of them.
Daniel met us in a conference room.
He looked as though he hadn't slept either.
“We identified the woman in the surveillance footage.”
I sat down.
“Who is she?”
“Rachel Voss. Thirty-eight years old. Former civilian logistics administrator who worked on military support contracts.”
“Does she have a criminal record?”
“A minor financial offense from several years ago. Nothing comparable to what we're investigating.”
He placed a photograph on the table.
Rachel had shoulder-length dark hair and tired brown eyes.
She looked nothing like me in her ordinary clothes.
Without the carefully arranged hairstyle and military-style jacket, the resemblance was limited.
“Why would anyone believe she was me?”
Daniel folded his hands.
“Because the people processing those approvals weren't necessarily checking the person as carefully as they should have. The documents and credentials did most of the convincing.”
“That makes me feel much better.”
“I didn't say it was reassuring.”
Grace examined Rachel's photograph.
“What do we know about her family?”
Daniel hesitated.
“She has a nine-year-old son named Benjamin.”
He showed us another picture.
Rachel stood in front of a small apartment building beside a smiling little boy.
Ben wore a bright blue jacket.
Attached to his backpack was a plastic dinosaur charm.
The same one I'd seen on Rachel's handbag.
I finally understood the connection.
It wasn't an identification badge or a secret signal.
It was something a little boy had probably given his mother so she'd remember him while she was away.
And Rachel had carried it into Riverstone's offices.
My anger shifted.
Whoever had dressed this woman to resemble me had also given her something to fear losing.
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“That's the problem.”
Daniel turned the photograph over.
“Her apartment was emptied yesterday. Her car was recovered near a commuter station. Her phone is off.”
“Was there evidence of violence?”
“We don't know.”
I looked at Ben's smiling face.
“He's missing too?”
“We're trying to confirm his location.”
I leaned back.
The room suddenly felt too small.
I thought about my mother holding my fingerprint in a plastic bag.
About my father using my property.
About my brother fleeing the country.
And now there was another mother somewhere, possibly terrified that someone might hurt her child.
Daniel watched me.
“Mara, I know what you're thinking.”
“You don't.”
“You want to find her yourself.”
“I want her son to be safe.”
“So do we.”
There was no argument in his voice.
Only a reminder that concern didn't give me authority to interfere.
He closed the folder.
“We're coordinating with local investigators and taking steps to protect anyone who comes forward.”
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Grace asked about the Riverstone payment.
“The $250,000 transferred eleven days before the convoy attack. Has Mercer explained it?”
“Not yet. His attorneys are responding to our requests.”
“Was the payment connected to Blue Lantern?”
Daniel looked at me.
“We have reason to believe so.”
My stomach tightened.
“What exactly was Blue Lantern?”
“A project name in the recovered records. We don't yet know everything it covered.”
“Was it connected to my deployment?”
He didn't answer immediately.
That silence terrified me more than any accusation.
Finally, he said:
“We're looking at possible unauthorized disclosure of military movement information.”
I stared at him.
Outside the conference room, someone laughed in the hallway.
The sound seemed impossibly far away.
Lena had died because someone knew where our convoy would be.
I had always assumed enemy surveillance or ordinary wartime intelligence had exposed us.
But what if the information had come from home?
What if the people I'd trusted most had helped place us directly in danger?
My phone vibrated again.
This time it was Maya.
Urgent. A woman claiming to be Rachel Voss just contacted my office.
I stood so quickly my chair scraped across the floor.
Daniel looked up.
“What is it?”
I showed him the message.
He immediately reached for his phone.
Within minutes, Maya joined us through a secure call.
“Rachel's attorney reached out. She wants to speak, but she's frightened.”
“Of Mercer?” Daniel asked.
“Apparently.”
“Where is she?”
“Her attorney won't disclose that until protective arrangements are discussed.”
Daniel nodded.
“That's reasonable.”
Then Maya's voice changed.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“Rachel said she didn't agree to impersonate Colonel Ellison because she wanted money.”
I looked at the photograph of Ben.
“Then why?”
Maya paused.
“Someone threatened her son.”
A terrible silence settled over the room.
May you like
Then Maya read the final line of Rachel's message.
“Tell Colonel Ellison I'm sorry. I never wanted to help them destroy her life. But Conrad Mercer knows where my little boy sleeps.”
