Chapter 4 - Vanessa Had Refused To Let Emily Find Me
Vanessa asked Ruiz to leave.
He refused.
Good.
I didn't trust either of us alone anymore.
“When did Emily show you the picture?”
“Eighteen months ago.”
“Exact.”
“February.”
“Where?”
“Outside a Senate outreach event in Arlington.”
“She walked up to you?”
“Yes.”
“With a photograph of me.”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
Vanessa stared at the table.
“That it wasn't conclusive.”
I laughed.
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
“What was I doing?”
“Buying a bus ticket.”
I remembered Richmond.
Gray coat.
Hair shorter than now.
A month where I almost came home.
I had stood inside that terminal with my phone open to my mother's number for twenty minutes.
Then left.
Someone had photographed me.
Emily found it.
“How?”
Vanessa didn't know.
“Elias?”
“I didn't know him to be involved then.”
“You knew him before.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“We'll get there.”
“No. We get there now.”
Ruiz leaned forward.
“General.”
Vanessa inhaled slowly.
“Elias represented a civilian review team tied to the incident that preceded Rachel's disappearance.”
“What incident?”
I knew.
But I wanted to hear what she called it.
“The Redford transport audit.”
There.
Three years ago I had been reviewing irregular personnel movement attached to a contracted transportation program.
Nothing glamorous.
Buses.
Temporary lodging.
Names.
Invoices.
Enough money moving through enough people that no one paid attention until one person did.
Me.
I had found personnel names attached to trips they never took.
Not spies.
Not secret prisoners.
Mostly billing fraud at first glance.
Then I discovered some of those names belonged to people involved in ongoing disciplinary or whistleblower cases.
That made it less boring.
Elias Sloane had been outside counsel for one of the contractors.
Not military.
Not command.
Close enough to hear everything.
I looked at Vanessa.
“You told me he was compliance.”
“He was.”
“For the contractor.”
“Yes.”
“You left that part out.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought you would assume he was personally directing the fraud.”
“Was he?”
“I still don't know.”
That answer was better than a villain-shaped confession.
“What did Emily show you?”
“The Richmond photograph.”
“And you knew it was me.”
“Yes.”
“Why tell her otherwise?”
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
“Because she was standing beside Elias.”
That slowed me.
“She brought him.”
“Yes.”
“Did Emily know he represented Redford?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“Why?”
“Because if I told Emily that the man helping her investigate your death had been counsel to the contractor in your last audit, she would confront him.”
“She should.”
“Maybe.”
“Vanessa.”
“She was twenty-four, furious, grieving, and standing twenty feet from a man I did not yet understand.”
“So you decided.”
“Yes.”
At least she heard it.
“What did you do instead?”
“I told her the photograph wasn't enough.”
“And?”
“She said she'd prove it.”
“She did.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“That is when the first impersonation happened.”
Emily came to Fort Grant six weeks later.
Cap.
Mask.
Dark jacket.
She walked through a public dining area and left.
Vanessa saw her.
Elias later requested written confirmation that the “Rachel Carter sighting” had been investigated.
Vanessa refused to classify it.
“Why?”
“Because I realized he wanted a history.”
“A history of fake me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you contact Emily?”
“Through your mother.”
My stomach tightened.
“Mom knew you knew.”
“Some.”
Of course.
Everyone had pieces.
“What did you tell her?”
“That Emily needed to stop.”
“Did you tell her I was alive?”
“No.”
My anger sharpened again.
“Why?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Because I didn't know whether you wanted to be found.”
The room went silent.
For the first time, nobody had an immediate answer.
She continued:
“You were alive for at least eighteen months under another name. You had a phone. Money. Work. You weren't imprisoned.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the photograph wasn't the only thing Emily showed me.”
“What else?”
“Three sightings.”
My chest tightened.
A grocery store.
A courthouse lobby.
A community college parking lot.
All me.
Different months.
Different cities.
Emily had been close enough to build a map.
Vanessa continued:
“I had two choices.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You had more than two.”
She accepted that.
“I had several bad choices.”
Better.
“I could tell Emily you were alive and risk her chasing you into whatever you were hiding from.”
“Or?”
“I could tell you your family was looking if I found you.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“When?”
Vanessa took a breath.
“Eight months ago.”
I remembered a woman at a farmers market.
Red scarf.
Sunglasses.
I had noticed her.
Walked away.
“You saw me.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't approach.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You looked at me.”
My stomach tightened.
“I didn't know it was you.”
“I think you did.”
She may have been right.
“What did you do?”
“I followed you for half a block.”
“And?”
“You turned around.”
I remembered.
I had seen the posture.
The way she moved.
Thought Vanessa.
Then told myself impossible.
“And?”
Vanessa's voice softened.
“You shook your head.”
I went quiet.
“You thought I was telling you not to come closer.”
“Yes.”
Maybe I had been.
I didn't know.
That ambiguity was worse than certainty.
Before I could answer, Ruiz's phone rang.
He listened.
Then looked at us.
“Ms. Carter's sister has requested to speak with Rachel.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Off base.”
“Alone?”
Ruiz shook his head.
“With Mr. Sloane.”
Vanessa stood immediately.
“No.”
I looked at her.
She caught herself.
Her hands opened.
Then closed.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“If you go, do not let Elias choose what your sister tells you.”
I stared.
“That's almost advice.”
“It is.”
“I'm still going.”
Vanessa nodded reluctantly.
May you like
“Then make Emily answer for herself.”
For once, that was exactly what I intended to do.
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