Chapter 6 - THE GREEN CASERyan arrived at dawn.
He walked into the kitchen wearing yesterday's shirt.
He looked exhausted.
My father had already told him what happened.
I placed the green case on the table.
Ryan stopped.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked:
“Where did you find that?”
“Outside.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“No one.”
He stared at the case.
Then at Dad.
“Why did you tell her?”
Dad's expression hardened.
“Because I was tired of lying.”
Ryan sat down.
I remained standing.
“Open it.”
Ryan looked at me.
“What?”
“Open it.”
“I don't have the key.”
I set an old brass key on the table.
Ryan stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
“From Dad's study.”
His face changed.
I knew then that the key mattered.
Ryan slowly picked it up.
The lock clicked.
The case opened.
Inside was a stack of documents wrapped in plastic.
A flash drive.
And a small military identification tag.
Caleb Morris.
My throat tightened.
Under the tag was a folded piece of paper.
I opened it.
Three names.
Richard Vane.
Ryan Cooper.
And my father.
No explanation.
No dates.
Just names.
I looked at Dad.
“What is this?”
He sat down.
“We were partners.”
“Partners in what?”
“Redstone.”
Ryan's face tightened.
Dad continued.
“It started as a transportation company. Vane handled military logistics. Ryan helped secure civilian contracts.”
I looked at my brother.
“You were working with him before the convoy.”
Ryan didn't deny it.
“That doesn't mean I knew about the attack.”
“Did you know the convoy route?”
“No.”
“Did you know the departure time?”
“No.”
“Did you give Vane information?”
“No.”
Daniel entered the room behind me.
He had brought Colonel Hale.
Ryan stood.
“What are you doing here?”
Daniel replied:
“Checking on my friend.”
Hale looked at the case.
His expression changed.
“Where did you find that?”
“I found it outside.”
Hale approached slowly.
He examined the identification tag.
“Where's the flash drive?”
I pointed.
He didn't touch it.
“Do not plug that into anything.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't know whether it's damaged or booby-trapped.”
Ryan scoffed.
“It's a flash drive, not a bomb.”
Hale looked at him.
“Neither was the convoy.”
Silence.
That sentence landed heavily.
Hale examined the documents.
Then his eyes stopped.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
He turned one page toward me.
It was an invoice.
Cooper Builders.
Nine years ago.
Payment for emergency site reconstruction.
The destination listed was the exact location where the convoy had been attacked.
My stomach twisted.
Ryan stepped back.
“That was emergency contracting.”
“You never told me,” I said.
“It wasn't your business.”
“It was my death.”
Nobody spoke.
Ryan's face tightened.
“You survived.”
I looked at him.
Something inside me finally broke.
“You don't get to say that like it's a lucky scratch.”
His eyes dropped.
Hale lifted the flash drive.
“There is another problem.”
He pointed at the label.
Someone had written a date on it.
Tomorrow.
My skin prickled.
“Why tomorrow?”
Hale looked at me.
“Because according to this date, someone is scheduled to access the account that financed the convoy operation.”
Ryan stared at the drive.
Then he whispered:
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
Ryan didn't answer.
Because his phone had just begun ringing.
May you like
The caller ID said:
RICHARD VANE.
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