Chapter 3 - THE EMPTY BOXBy the time we reached my apartment, the flash drive was gone.
So was the small cedar box that had held it for two years.
My broken arm had been set at the hospital less than an hour earlier. The orthopedic surgeon had wanted to keep me for observation after I refused stronger pain medication, but General Hale made one phone call and suddenly the discharge paperwork moved at military speed.
I wore a sling over borrowed sweatpants and an Army T-shirt when I stepped into my apartment at 8:46 that evening.
The door showed no sign of forced entry.
It didn’t need to.
Vivian had a key.
General Hale entered behind me with two military investigators.
My father followed.
Chase came last.
No one spoke.
I walked straight to the bedroom.
The painting above my dresser hung crooked.
That was all I needed to see.
“No.”
I crossed the room.
Behind the painting was a recessed wall safe.
The door stood open.
Dad whispered, “Mara…”
Inside were my passport, a service pistol secured according to regulation, emergency cash, my mother’s wedding ring and several envelopes.
The cedar box was missing.
One investigator put on gloves.
“Who knew the code?”
“No one.”
“Did Mrs. Ellis?”
“No.”
“Could your father?”
Dad immediately said, “I didn’t.”
“I know.”
The investigator examined the keypad.
“No obvious damage.”
General Hale looked at me.
“When was the last time you opened it?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“For the drive?”
“For my mother’s ring.”
Dad lowered his head.
He had never known I kept it there.
After Mom died, he had given me her ring on my twenty-first birthday.
Vivian hated that.
She once suggested resetting the diamond into something “more modern.”
I never let her touch it again.
Chase walked toward the dresser.
“Could Mom guess the code?”
“No.”
“What is it?”
I stared at him.
He immediately held up his hands.
“Bad question.”
The investigator pointed toward a tiny black mark beside the safe.
“Possible tool impression.”
General Hale’s jaw tightened.
“This wasn’t casual.”
Dad sat on the edge of my bed.
“My wife broke into my daughter’s apartment.”
Nobody corrected him.
But I noticed he said my wife, not Vivian.
As if he suddenly needed distance from the name.
Chase paced.
“What exactly was on that drive?”
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“What did Owen say?”
The memory came immediately.
Helicopter cabin.
Blood covering my gloves.
Owen’s breathing becoming shallower.
His hand fumbling underneath his body armor.
A small waterproof drive pushed into my palm.
If anything happens to Chase, open it. Not before. Promise me.
I had argued.
He had tightened his fingers around mine.
Promise.
So I did.
Then he asked me to tell his father he had done his duty.
Three minutes later, Owen Hale died with his head against my shoulder.
“I don’t know what’s on it,” I repeated.
General Hale turned toward the investigators.
“Treat this as potential compromise of classified material until we establish otherwise.”
One investigator nodded and stepped into the hallway to make a call.
Chase stared at me.
“Why would Owen have information about me?”
“I don’t know.”
“That makes no sense.”
General Hale spoke.
“My son was an intelligence officer before transferring to field command.”
Chase looked at him.
“What?”
“He rarely discussed his work outside appropriate channels.”
I had known Owen worked intelligence.
I hadn’t known Chase didn’t.
Hale walked toward my window.
Below us, Washington glittered under autumn rain.
“When Owen deployed on his final rotation, he mentioned concerns about unauthorized information reaching hostile groups.”
My stomach tightened.
“That never appeared in the Night Lantern investigation.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he hadn’t provided evidence.”
The general turned.
“Only concerns.”
Chase stopped pacing.
“What kind of information?”
“Patrol schedules. Logistics routes. Personnel movements.”
Nobody said anything.
Then Dad whispered, “The ambush.”
General Hale nodded.
“It is possible Night Lantern was not random.”
Chase sank into a chair.
“No.”
I watched him.
“What?”
“No.”
He shook his head violently.
“The information about the civilians came through a local intermediary. I saw the message myself.”
“On what system?” I asked.
He hesitated.
“Personal phone.”
My heart dropped.
“You were carrying a personal phone on patrol?”
“It was powered down most of the time.”
“Most?”
“Mara—”
“You received operational intelligence through an unauthorized device?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be operational intelligence! It was a source I’d met in town.”
General Hale’s voice became cold.
“You established unsanctioned contact with a foreign national?”
Chase stood.
“He had helped us before.”
“Was this documented?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
Suddenly pieces that had never fit began shifting into place.
The enemy had known exactly where the stranded unit would move.
They had positioned weapons before the rescue convoy arrived.
They knew helicopter routes.
We had always blamed compromised communications.
What if the compromise had started earlier?
“What was the source’s name?” I asked.
Chase stared at me.
“Nabil.”
General Hale turned sharply.
“Nabil Rahman?”
Chase looked confused.
“Yes.”
Hale went pale.
My stomach knotted.
“You know him?”
“He was detained six months after Night Lantern.”
“For what?”
“Espionage.”
Chase stopped breathing.
Dad whispered, “Oh, God.”
Hale continued.
“Rahman sold information to anyone willing to pay.”
Chase stumbled backward until the wall caught him.
“I didn’t know.”
I believed him.
That was the terrible part.
Chase could be arrogant.
Reckless.
Desperate to prove himself.
But I had never believed he was a traitor.
General Hale apparently reached the same conclusion.
“If Owen discovered your contact with Rahman, that could explain the drive.”
Chase looked at me.
“He thought I leaked information?”
“Maybe he found evidence showing how Rahman got access.”
Dad rubbed his face.
“This is insane.”
Then someone knocked at the apartment door.
Every soldier in the room reacted.
One investigator moved first.
He checked the peephole.
Then opened the door.
A police detective stood outside.
“Captain Ellis?”
“Yes.”
“Detective Sarah Morgan, Metropolitan Police.”
She glanced at my sling.
“I’m investigating the assault at the veterans’ hall.”
“Come in.”
She did.
Her expression suggested she had more than routine questions.
“We’ve encountered a complication.”
General Hale folded his arms.
“What complication?”
Detective Morgan looked at Dad.
“Mrs. Ellis was released from initial custody pending formal charging because she complained of chest pain and was transported to a hospital.”
Dad stood.
“Is she okay?”
The question escaped before he could stop it.
Years of marriage didn’t disappear in five hours.
Morgan nodded.
“Medically, yes.”
Dad exhaled.
Then Morgan finished.
“She left the hospital before officers arrived to return her to custody.”
Chase whispered, “She ran?”
“We don’t currently know where she is.”
My eyes moved toward the empty safe.
The detective followed my gaze.
“What happened here?”
I looked at General Hale.
He answered.
“We believe Mrs. Ellis may have stolen government property.”
Morgan sighed.
“Of course she did.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Then the investigator returned from the hallway.
“General.”
Something in his voice changed the room.
“We pulled the building security footage.”
“And?”
“Mrs. Ellis entered Captain Ellis’s apartment yesterday at 2:13 p.m.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“She left twenty-seven minutes later carrying a handbag.”
Chase asked, “Can you see the box?”
“No.”
The investigator hesitated.
“But she wasn’t alone.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Who was with her?”
He turned his tablet around.
The security image was grainy but clear enough.
Vivian stood inside the elevator.
Next to her was a man in a gray coat.
Older.
Thin.
Familiar.
I had seen him before.
Two years ago.
Standing across a dusty market road overseas, speaking quietly to American soldiers.
Chase saw him too.
His knees nearly gave out.
“That’s impossible.”
General Hale stepped closer to the image.
His face became stone.
Detective Morgan asked, “Who is he?”
Chase answered in a whisper.
“Nabil Rahman.”
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The man responsible for selling military information had just been inside my apartment.
And somehow, Vivian knew him.
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