Chapter 9 - The Face Beneath My Cap
I stared at the screen until the image blurred.
Colonel Rebecca Harper had commanded my unit for four years. She had written my promotion recommendation. She had called my mother every Christmas while I was deployed.
Now her face watched me from a dark marina while Beth sat bound beneath a knife.
“Thirty minutes,” the distorted voice repeated.
The call ended.
Ryan studied me.
“What did you see?”
I did not answer.
Sergeant Hall had seen it too.
“Could that video be manipulated?” she asked.
“The live movement looked real.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I forced myself to think like an investigator instead of a betrayed subordinate.
The woman’s face resembled Harper exactly, but she had not spoken. The lighting was poor. Her body remained partially hidden behind Beth.
A mask was possible.
So was a look-alike.
So was the truth.
I called Harper.
She answered on the second ring.
“Kelsey, I was about to call you. Pierce’s contractor records—”
“Where are you?”
“At Fort Meade.”
“Turn on video.”
Silence.
“Kelsey, what happened?”
“Turn on your camera.”
The call disconnected.
Five seconds later, she sent a message.
DO NOT TRUST VIDEO. I AM LOCKED IN ARCHIVE ROOM B-12. THEY HAVE MY PHONE MIRRORED.
Then another message appeared from the same number.
SHE IS LYING. BRING THE CARD.
Two people were controlling her account.
Sergeant Hall contacted military police at Fort Meade. They reported Archive Room B-12 did not exist on the current building plan.
Ryan laughed under his breath.
“You’re already too late.”
I grabbed the front of his shirt.
“Is Harper part of Belmont?”
“I never met the person at the top.”
“Who gave you instructions?”
“Vale.”
“Elias Vale?”
“That’s the name he used.”
“The scarred man?”
Ryan nodded.
“Logan Pierce.”
“Who wore my uniform?”
“I don’t know.”
My grip tightened.
He looked genuinely uncertain.
That frightened me more than another lie.
Ryan had been a participant, not an architect. Someone had given him just enough information to carry out his role while keeping the larger operation hidden.
Sergeant Hall separated us and ordered Ryan returned to his cell.
Before officers took him away, he turned toward me.
“The key card is tracked.”
I looked at my pocket.
“What?”
“The moment you removed it from the compartment, Belmont knew.”
A sharp vibration ran against my leg.
Not my phone.
The key card.
A tiny blue light blinked along its edge.
Hall dropped it into an evidence shield bag, but the signal had already transmitted for hours.
They knew I had gone to the hospital.
They knew I had come to the detention center.
They knew we were discussing the maritime bank.
A call came through from military police.
They had reached the section of Fort Meade where Harper claimed to be trapped. Room B-12 was not on the plan because it had been sealed after a renovation fifteen years earlier.
The officers found the door welded shut from the outside.
They cut through it.
Inside was Colonel Harper’s phone, placed on a chair and connected to a device that mirrored incoming calls.
Harper was not there.
But another object rested on the floor.
Her service pistol.
One round had been fired.
The bullet was embedded in the wall.
Blood marked the grip.
Then Sergeant Hall’s radio crackled.
Officers searching Beth’s last location had reached the abandoned marina.
The dock was empty.
The chair, ropes, and legal documents were gone.
Only Beth’s shoes remained beside the water.
May you like
Inside one shoe, police found a flash drive labeled with my military identification number.
📖 Find out what Beth stored on the flash drive bearing my identity—and why opening it placed me under federal suspicion in CHAPTER 10. 👇
