Chapter 7 - My Mother Had Called Walter Before I Arrived
Dana let me into her house that evening without a hug.
Good.
I wasn't ready for one.
She poured coffee.
I stayed standing.
“You called Hayes.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I found out you were assigned to his academy.”
“How?”
“You left the acceptance letter on my printer.”
I remembered.
Damn.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were coming.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't want him learning who you were in front of a class.”
I laughed.
“That went beautifully.”
She winced.
“Apparently.”
“And you told him not to tell me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were already angry I didn't support the academy.”
“So?”
“If I told you Walter and I had history, you would have gone digging before your first day.”
“You were right.”
“That doesn't make it okay.”
Good.
She knew.
I sat.
“Voss says you approved the modified version.”
Her face changed.
“He would.”
“Did you?”
She stared at her coffee.
“Yes.”
That answer hurt more than if she had lied.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because until yesterday, you had no reason to know.”
“I'm your son.”
“You are not automatically entitled to every professional mistake I made before you could walk.”
Fair.
I hated it.
“What did you approve?”
“A pilot.”
“Why?”
“Because Voss told us the original release was too easy for subjects to re-engage.”
“Was he right?”
“Sometimes.”
“So you changed it.”
“Walter and I tested a second option.”
“Walter says the current version isn't yours.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then what happened?”
Dana rubbed one thumb against the cup handle.
“We proposed a controlled finish.”
“And Voss?”
“Wanted more compliance.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he wanted a version officers could feel working immediately.”
I did not need mechanics.
I needed choices.
“You said yes.”
“For one day.”
“And someone got hurt.”
“Yes.”
“Did your version hurt him?”
Dana’s face tightened.
“The block had changed before the injury.”
“Did you know?”
“I knew Voss had pushed it farther.”
“Before the injury?”
“Yes.”
That was the piece she had kept.
“What did you do?”
“I objected.”
“Stopped the class?”
“No.”
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because I wanted the contract.”
There.
Not fear.
Not heroism.
Career.
“I had spent years getting departments to take a civilian woman seriously in rooms full of men who thought strength was the same thing as control.”
Her voice hardened.
“I did not want Voss proving I was difficult.”
“So you let it run.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Forty minutes.”
“That was enough.”
“Yes.”
She looked down.
“The recruit was hurt in those forty minutes.”
I sat back.
No villain had disappeared.
Voss still changed the technique.
Walter still signed what came later.
But my mother had a point where she could have stopped the room and didn't.
“What did Walter do?”
“He stopped the block after the injury.”
“Then?”
“He helped write the report.”
“Why was your name on the injured version?”
“Because it began with my adaptation.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
“Did Walter fight it?”
“At first.”
“At first.”
She nodded.
“The city wanted one report. Voss wanted the program preserved. Thomas Reed wanted a clean technical explanation.”
“And you?”
“I wanted my name off anything I hadn't approved.”
“Did they do it?”
“No.”
“So you quit.”
“Yes.”
“And Walter stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you hate him?”
Dana looked at me.
“I don't hate Walter.”
That surprised me.
“I thought—”
“I hated that he could live with the compromise longer than I could.”
She stared toward the window.
“And I hated that part of me wished I had.”
There was no clean family inheritance in that sentence.
Then I asked:
“What did he get?”
“Promotion.”
“Because of the technique?”
“Not directly.”
“But his name ended up on it.”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever call you?”
“Three years later.”
“What did he want?”
“To correct the curriculum attribution.”
My head snapped up.
“What did you say?”
Dana looked ashamed.
“I told him not to use my name.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“By then I had a clinic. You were in school. I did not want old litigation finding me again.”
“So you helped keep the lie.”
“Yes.”
She did not improve it.
Then:
“Walter still could have removed his own name.”
May you like
Exactly.
That belonged to him.
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