Chapter 6 - The Sailor Who Kept Her Copy
Maya Torres didn't want to talk to another officer.
That was what her attorney told the independent investigator the next morning.
I learned about it through Cole, who came to my temporary office with the guarded expression he wore when he had bad news.
"She thinks the Navy has already decided she caused her own injury."
"Has anyone told her that?"
"Apparently somebody from the ship suggested she was careless."
"Who?"
"That's part of what they're establishing."
I thought of the documents.
A young sailor injured during equipment maintenance.
A report describing no personnel injury.
A ship preparing to certify readiness.
The situation was bad enough without adding my brother.
"She has an attorney," I said. "That's good. She should have independent advice."
Cole nodded.
"Her original incident statement may still exist."
"Where?"
"She kept a copy."
I looked up.
He continued.
"She also photographed the equipment immediately after the accident."
Rebecca's technical team would need the photographs, and any conclusions would have to come from qualified specialists rather than my assumptions.
But a photograph could answer a question the altered paperwork could not.
What had actually happened?
Later that day, an investigator received Maya's account.
Cole gave me only the broad, authorized operational implications.
Maya had been directed to assist with a test that should not have proceeded under the conditions she described.
She questioned an abnormal pressure reading.
Her supervisor told her the gauge was unreliable.
Minutes later, a connection failed.
Hot coolant escaped.
Maya suffered painful burns.
Her crewmates helped get her clear.
The medical treatment was real.
The injury was real.
The original incident report was real.
Only the summary had changed.
The next morning, Maya received a message from someone telling her that pursuing the issue could damage her career.
She saved that message too.
"Who sent it?" I asked.
Cole hesitated.
"We don't have an authenticated sender yet."
"All right."
He studied me.
"You want to ask whether Brandon was involved."
"I do."
"But you're not going to."
"No."
He gave a tired smile.
"That's why I respect you."
I didn't feel particularly deserving of respect.
I felt angry.
Angry at the system failures.
Angry at my brother.
Angry at the possibility that someone had frightened a young mother into silence while senior personnel discussed schedules and favorable evaluations.
Then Rebecca entered.
"Admiral, the technical review has confirmed that the affected cooling system needs corrective maintenance and verification before the command can treat the discrepancy as closed."
I nodded.
"Has the operational authority been notified?"
"Yes."
"And the fire-suppression discrepancy?"
"Still under examination. The original test data conflicts with the submitted closure."
Cole looked toward the harbor.
"Two significant problems."
"Possibly three," Rebecca said.
We both turned.
She placed a printed page on the desk.
"The casualty report wasn't the only missing record. There was also a rejected supply requisition for a replacement component."
"Rejected by whom?" Cole asked.
"The electronic approval record indicates the requisition was canceled by engineering administration."
"Why?"
"Reason entered: part no longer required."
I examined the requisition.
The replacement component was listed.
The serial and stock numbers were present.
The system history showed it had been requested twice.
Both requests were canceled.
"Who was the originator?"
"Lieutenant Chen."
"And the cancellation acknowledgment?"
Rebecca lowered her eyes.
"Brandon Owens."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Not because I believed he had orchestrated everything.
But because every path seemed to lead back to someone in my family.
Cole's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression hardened as he listened.
"Understood. Preserve everything."
He ended the call.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Investigators have located Commander Vale."
"Where?"
"At the airport."
I waited.
"He was attempting to board a flight to Denver."
"Why Denver?"
Cole looked at the photograph on my desk.
"Because Thomas Vale lives there."
A second call interrupted us.
This time, it came from the hospital treating Maya.
She had received an anonymous warning.
May you like
It included her daughter's name.
And the sender knew which elementary school the little girl attended.
