Chapter 10 - THE WOMAN WHO LIED TWICE
I left Ana Reyes's house feeling as though someone had placed a weight against my chest.
For days, I'd been thinking about my own humiliation.
The slap.
The threats.
The possibility of losing my career.
Now I understood that my experience was only one small piece of something much larger.
Daniel Reyes had died.
Mara Ellis had lost the career she loved.
Ana had buried her husband.
Sofia had grown up without a father.
And for twenty-eight years, Bruce and Vivian Harmon had lived with wealth, influence, and the protection of an official story that blamed someone else.
I sat in my truck outside Ana's house for several minutes.
Then I called Alana.
"I just met Daniel Reyes's family."
There was a pause.
"How are you holding up?"
"I don't know."
Alana waited.
"I keep wondering how many people knew the truth."
She sighed.
"Kate, don't let that question swallow you."
"How can it not?"
"Because you're responsible for telling the truth about what happened to you. You're not responsible for fixing every mistake the Army has made."
I stared through the windshield.
"But somebody has to fix this one."
"Yes," she said.
"And this time, there are people trying."
I wanted to believe her.
The next morning, I returned to the installation for another meeting with Agent Grant.
She informed me that the temporary reassignment request had been reviewed.
Lieutenant Colonel Avery had declined to approve it as submitted.
I could return to security duties once medically cleared, although I would temporarily work a different checkpoint to avoid unnecessary contact with individuals connected to the investigation.
It wasn't exactly what I wanted.
But it wasn't punishment.
And after the previous few days, that mattered.
"Colonel Harmon's office objected," Grant said.
I looked at her.
"Of course it did."
She almost smiled.
Then her expression turned serious.
"We're pursuing separate lines of inquiry involving the original accident, the missing archive materials, and possible interference with today's investigation."
"Have you found the missing box?"
"Not yet."
I frowned.
"But Major Pike signed for it."
"He did. He's been interviewed with counsel present."
"What did he say?"
"I can't disclose his full statement. But I can tell you he acknowledges moving the box."
My pulse quickened.
"Did he say where?"
"He's given an account that we're verifying."
She turned a page.
"We're also investigating who ordered the Gate Six camera feed disabled."
I leaned forward.
"Was it Pike?"
"The account was associated with personnel in Colonel Harmon's headquarters. We haven't established who actually used it."
I nodded.
I was beginning to understand why real investigations took time.
It wasn't enough to know what seemed obvious.
Somebody had to prove it.
With records.
Witnesses.
Dates.
Documents that could survive scrutiny.
And sometimes, the truth was buried beneath so many lies that every answer produced three more questions.
As I left Grant's office, I encountered someone I hadn't expected.
Vivian Harmon.
She stood near the hallway window, wearing a dark blue dress and oversized sunglasses.
Her silk scarf was gone.
Without it, she appeared strangely ordinary.
Not harmless.
Just human.
She recognized me immediately.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then she removed her sunglasses.
"Sergeant Conroy."
I stopped.
"Mrs. Harmon."
Her eyes moved toward my cheek.
The bruise had begun fading, but the discoloration remained visible.
Something uncomfortable crossed her face.
"I heard you were back on duty."
"Not yet."
She nodded.
An awkward silence followed.
Then she said, "I didn't expect things to become so complicated."
I stared at her.
"You struck me because I wouldn't open a security barrier."
Her mouth tightened.
"I was under considerable stress."
"That doesn't excuse it."
"I know."
The answer surprised me.
Vivian looked toward the empty corridor.
Then she lowered her voice.
"You don't understand what my husband is dealing with."
I felt anger rise.
"Mrs. Harmon, I have three children waiting for me at home. When you threatened my career, you were threatening their security."
She looked away.
"I wasn't thinking about your children."
"No. You weren't."
I let the silence settle.
Then I asked the question I'd been carrying since meeting Mara.
"Did you ever think about Nina Ellis?"
Vivian froze.
"What?"
"Mara's daughter."
Her face lost color.
"How do you know about her?"
"I met her mother."
Vivian took a step backward.
"You shouldn't involve yourself in that."
"Why?"
"Because you don't know what happened."
I met her eyes.
"Then tell the investigators."
She stared at me.
For a moment, I saw something beneath the arrogance.
Fear.
Not fear of me.
Fear of what speaking honestly might do to the life she had built.
"Bruce said everything was settled," she whispered.
"Was it?"
She didn't answer.
I continued.
"Daniel Reyes has a daughter who never met him."
Vivian flinched.
"Don't."
"Her name is Sofia."
"Please."
"She's twenty-seven now."
Vivian pressed her fingers against her lips.
I wasn't trying to torment her.
But I wouldn't allow her to pretend that her past consisted only of documents and old allegations.
There were living people behind it.
People who still woke up every morning with the consequences.
Vivian's eyes filled.
"I didn't know his wife was pregnant."
I watched her.
"Would knowing have changed what you did?"
She lowered her head.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, "I don't know."
It was the first answer she'd given me that sounded completely honest.
A door opened down the corridor.
Vivian immediately straightened.
Her expression became guarded again.
"I shouldn't be speaking to you."
"Then speak to Agent Grant."
She looked toward the investigator's office.
Her hands trembled slightly.
"Bruce would never forgive me."
I thought of Mara Ellis.
Daniel Reyes.
Twenty-eight years of silence.
"Maybe the question isn't whether your husband will forgive you."
Vivian looked at me.
"Maybe it's whether you can keep living with what you've done."
I walked away before she answered.
That evening, I told Bree that I had met the woman who slapped me.
My daughter stared at me across the kitchen table.
"What did she say?"
"That she was under stress."
Bree looked disgusted.
"That's her excuse?"
"She also admitted she shouldn't have hit me."
"Did you forgive her?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Good."
I smiled faintly.
"Forgiveness isn't something you owe someone just because they finally admit they hurt you."
Bree considered that.
"Do you think she'll tell the truth?"
"I hope so."
"Why?"
"Because there are families who deserve answers."
Bree was quiet for a moment.
Then she asked, "Mom, do you still believe people can change?"
I looked at her.
It was a difficult question.
I thought about Vivian.
About Ward.
About Dewitt and Salas.
"I believe people can make different choices," I said.
"But they have to actually make them."
Later that night, Grant called.
A retired soldier named Lucas Benton had agreed to provide a formal statement.
He was the surviving ambulance passenger whose testimony had been discounted in 1998.
He had also kept a personal notebook from his time at Fort Ansel.
Grant said investigators were arranging to collect it.
"Does he remember the truck?" I asked.
"Very clearly."
"What about Captain Harmon?"
There was a pause.
"Sergeant, Mr. Benton says he remembers something that may explain why the original investigators wanted his testimony excluded."
I sat straighter.
"What?"
May you like
Grant's voice lowered.
"He says Vivian Harmon wasn't simply driving near the accident. He believes she was deliberately sent to distract the security personnel while her husband moved Truck Seventeen."
