Chapter 7 - TWO PRIVATES AND A MISSING BOX
The missing evidence box changed everything.
Until then, I had wondered whether the problems with the old investigation were simply the result of frightened officers making terrible decisions.
Now someone appeared to be actively interfering with the effort to uncover the truth.
Twenty-eight years after Specialist Daniel Reyes died, somebody still wanted the evidence to disappear.
Special Agent Grant immediately requested that the archive building be secured and that all access records be preserved.
The installation provost marshal assigned additional military police to the area.
I wasn't among them.
Alana made that clear.
"Kate, you're a witness in an active investigation. You're not going to investigate your own case."
"I know."
"Good. Because I know that look."
"What look?"
"The one that says you're about to do something incredibly stubborn."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Alana had known me long enough to recognize when my sense of injustice was outrunning my common sense.
She handed me a fresh cup of coffee.
"Let the investigators do their jobs. You can help by being honest, available, and careful."
I nodded.
Then she added, "And you need to talk to your privates."
My smile vanished.
"Dewitt and Salas?"
"They've both requested to speak with you."
I looked away.
"About what?"
"Apologizing, mostly."
I stared into my coffee.
I wasn't sure I was ready.
The memory of Dewitt's trembling fingers touching my sleeve still made my stomach tighten.
I'd trained those young men.
I'd trusted them.
And when Vivian threatened their careers, they'd almost chosen her over me.
Alana watched me.
"They made a serious mistake, Kate. But they're also young soldiers who need to understand what happened."
"I know."
"You don't have to forgive them immediately."
I looked up.
"Then what do I have to do?"
"Decide what kind of leader you want to be after someone disappoints you."
Her words stayed with me.
That afternoon, Dewitt and Salas arrived at the provost marshal's office.
They entered the small meeting room together.
Both stood at attention.
I remained seated.
"At ease," I said.
Neither relaxed.
Dewitt's face looked pale.
Salas kept his eyes on the floor.
For a moment, I felt like their mother rather than their sergeant.
Then I reminded myself that kindness didn't mean pretending mistakes were harmless.
"Tell me why you wanted to see me."
Dewitt swallowed.
"Sergeant, we wanted to apologize."
I waited.
He took a breath.
"When Mrs. Harmon threatened us, I got scared."
"Of what?"
"My career. My girlfriend. The baby."
His voice trembled.
"I kept thinking that if Colonel Harmon really wanted to, he could send me away before my son was born."
I looked at him.
"And you thought removing me from my post would protect your family."
"Yes, Sergeant."
"What about my family, Dewitt?"
He lowered his head.
"I didn't think about that."
The answer hurt.
But it was honest.
I turned toward Salas.
"And you?"
Salas looked miserable.
"I knew it was wrong. I knew she didn't have authority to order us."
"Then why did you follow Dewitt?"
He hesitated.
"Because I didn't want to be the only one standing against her."
I leaned back.
There it was.
The simplest explanation for so much injustice.
People didn't always do the wrong thing because they were cruel.
Sometimes they did it because they were afraid of standing alone.
I looked at both young men.
"Do you understand what could have happened if you'd removed me?"
Dewitt nodded.
"You could have been accused of abandoning your post."
"And?"
Salas answered.
"An unauthorized vehicle could have entered a restricted area."
"Exactly."
I let the words settle.
"You weren't protecting the Army by obeying Mrs. Harmon. You were endangering the security assignment you were supposed to support."
Neither answered.
I continued.
"You will be held accountable through the proper process. I'm not going to cover up what happened because I care about you."
Dewitt's eyes filled.
"Yes, Sergeant."
"But I don't want one terrible decision to define the rest of your lives."
He looked up.
"I don't deserve that."
"Maybe not today. But you can earn back trust through what you do next."
For the first time, Salas met my eyes.
"Sergeant, there's something we need to tell you."
I straightened.
"What?"
He glanced at Dewitt.
Then he said, "We heard Mrs. Harmon on the phone before she slapped you."
My heart quickened.
"With whom?"
"We don't know. She was standing near her car, and she thought we couldn't hear."
"What did she say?"
Salas swallowed.
"She said, 'If Ward gets those files, Bruce is finished.'"
I stared at him.
Dewitt nodded.
"Then she said something about a box in the records building."
"Did you tell Agent Grant?"
"Yes, Sergeant. We gave separate statements this morning."
I felt a strange combination of relief and dread.
They were finally doing what they should have done from the beginning.
But their testimony raised another question.
Vivian had known exactly what she wanted from the archive.
And somebody had apparently helped her.
Later that afternoon, Agent Grant asked me to come to her office for a follow-up interview.
She wanted to know whether I'd noticed anyone approaching the records building before Vivian arrived.
I searched my memory.
There had been delivery trucks.
Maintenance vehicles.
A utility van.
Nothing unusual.
"Think carefully," Grant said. "Did any officer enter the archive road before the gate was formally closed?"
I hesitated.
Then I remembered something.
"A gray SUV."
Grant looked up.
"Describe it."
"Army registration plate. Dark windows. It passed through before my shift started."
"Do you remember who was inside?"
"No."
"Anything distinctive?"
I thought for a moment.
"The driver had a blue parking permit hanging from the mirror."
Grant wrote that down.
"Did you record the plate?"
"Not personally. The outgoing guard would have handled that entry."
She nodded.
"That's helpful."
Before I left, she showed me a photograph of a man in his late thirties.
He wore an Army uniform and had a narrow face, dark hair, and tired-looking eyes.
"Do you recognize him?"
I studied the picture.
"Major Colin Pike."
"How do you know him?"
"He works in Colonel Harmon's headquarters."
"Have you seen him near Gate Six recently?"
"Sometimes."
Grant nodded.
Then she placed the photograph back in her folder.
"Major Pike was responsible for coordinating access to the historical records area this week."
My stomach tightened.
"Is he the person who took the box?"
"We haven't established that."
"What about the camera?"
"We've identified the administrative account used to disable the recording channel. We're working to determine who controlled it."
I looked at her.
"Was it the same person?"
Grant didn't answer.
Instead, she asked whether I remembered the exact time Vivian had arrived.
I told her.
She made another note.
Then her phone rang.
She listened without speaking.
Her expression grew increasingly serious.
"Are you certain?"
A pause.
"Preserve that record immediately."
She ended the call.
I waited.
Finally, she looked at me.
"One of the archive custodians has identified an irregular transfer."
"What kind?"
"A sealed evidence box was checked out of the building shortly before the independent review team arrived."
"Who signed for it?"
Grant hesitated.
Then she turned her notebook around.
A name appeared beside the transfer entry.
Major Colin Pike.
I stared at it.
"Colonel Harmon's aide?"
"Yes."
My mind raced.
Pike had access to the records.
He worked directly for Bruce Harmon.
And now his name appeared on the movement of the missing evidence.
"Where did he take it?"
Grant's eyes narrowed.
"We just received a vehicle movement record."
May you like
She paused.
"Major Pike left the archive with the box and drove straight to Colonel Harmon's private residence."
