Chapter 4 - A Distress Call From the Harbor Revealed the Skills She Had Hidden for Eight YearsPaige did not go to the storage facility alone.
She called Admiral Dunore.
He answered immediately.
“I was hoping you'd trust me enough to call.”
Paige told him about the note.
There was a long silence.
Then he said, “Do not go anywhere until I get there.”
By evening, the harbor rescue had become a national story.
Four sailors had been recovered.
Three survived.
The fourth remained missing.
Paige had spent hours helping treat the injured, but the missing sailor troubled her.
According to the rescue report, he had been trapped inside the patrol boat when it overturned.
The vessel had been recovered.
Yet his body had not been found.
Something about that bothered her.
She requested permission to review the medical information provided by the harbor rescue team.
The request was denied.
Not by the charge nurse.
Not by the medical director.
By Dr. Hollander.
“Why are you interested in the investigation?” he demanded.
“Because the survivors may have information relevant to their treatment.”
“The Coast Guard is handling it.”
Paige looked at him.
“You seem unusually concerned about what I know.”
Hollander stepped closer.
“Stay in your lane, Kendrick.”
She held his gaze.
“I tried that once.”
Then she walked away.
At 11:40 p.m., Admiral Dunore arrived in an unmarked vehicle with a Navy criminal investigator named Special Agent Marcus Vale.
Vale was in his late thirties, with dark hair, a tired expression, and the careful manner of someone who preferred evidence to speeches.
Paige recognized his name.
He had been assigned to investigate Mercer’s death years earlier.
“You closed the case,” she said.
Vale did not deny it.
“I did.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I think I made a mistake.”
The three drove toward the storage facility.
Dunore explained that the anonymous package had contained references to an old procurement program involving rescue equipment, medical contracts, and classified operational funding.
Hollander's name appeared repeatedly.
So did Thomas Mercer's.
“Mercer discovered that someone was falsifying maintenance records,” Vale said. “The equipment involved was being supplied under a Navy contract.”
Paige remembered the failed communications system on the rescue helicopter.
She remembered the crew chief shouting that the backup beacon had stopped transmitting.
“Those failures weren't accidents,” she whispered.
Vale glanced at her.
“We believe someone concealed defects to protect the contractor.”
“And Mercer found out.”
“Yes.”
At midnight, they reached the storage facility.
Unit 214 stood at the end of a narrow corridor.
The padlock had been cut.
The door was slightly open.
Vale drew his flashlight.
“Stay behind me.”
Inside, the unit was almost empty.
A metal chair sat beneath a single overhead bulb.
On the chair was a waterproof equipment case.
Paige recognized the markings.
It belonged to the rescue unit she had served with.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside was a damaged flight helmet.
A memory card sealed in plastic.
And a photograph of Thomas Mercer holding a newborn baby.
Paige stared at the picture.
She had never known Mercer had a child.
On the back was written:
FOR MY DAUGHTER, WHEN SHE IS OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW THE TRUTH.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside.
Vale turned.
“Who's there?”
A sharp metallic crash echoed through the corridor.
The lights went out.
May you like
Then someone shouted from the darkness.
“Get down!”
Related Stories
