Chapter 3: The Man in Uniform
I recognized the uniform before I recognized the face.
Captain Brooks did too.
Her hand shot forward.
"Pause it.""
Nolan froze the video.
The second man's face was turned partly toward the camera.
Major Thomas Keller.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Keller wasn't some random officer passing through Camp Redstone.
He supervised logistics coordination for the entire training rotation.
He had access to schedules.
Warehouses.
Shipping records.
Contractors.
And, most importantly, personnel assignments.
Including mine.
Reed stared at the screen.
"That's Major Keller.""
Victor folded his arms.
"You can't prove when that was recorded.""
Nolan pointed toward the timestamp.
Victor shrugged.
"Metadata can be altered.""
Captain Brooks turned slowly toward him.
"For someone who claims he has never seen that flash drive, you seem very interested in explaining its contents.""
Victor's jaw tightened.
"I understand technology.""
"Apparently.""
Brooks told Nolan to disconnect the laptop.
Then she stepped into the hallway and made a call.
Victor paced.
Reed watched him.
I watched the frozen image of Keller.
Something bothered me.
The crate.
I'd seen that marking before.
A red triangle near the corner.
"Can I look closer?""
Nolan glanced at Brooks through the doorway.
She nodded.
He enlarged the frame.
The image became grainy, but the marking was still visible.
I knew it.
"Medical refrigeration units.""
Reed looked at me.
"You're sure?""
"We inventoried six last month.""
"Where are they now?""
"Warehouse Seven.""
Victor stopped pacing.
I noticed.
So did Brooks.
She ended her call.
"Miller?""
"Those crates should contain portable medical refrigeration equipment.""
Brooks looked at Nolan.
"Secure Warehouse Seven.""
Victor stepped forward.
"You can't shut down operations because a corporal thinks she recognizes a box.""
Brooks ignored him.
"Nobody enters until we get there.""
Victor's face reddened.
"I need to make a call.""
"You can make it with an MP present.""
"Absolutely not.""
"Then don't make it.""
He laughed angrily.
"This base depends on my company.""
Brooks stared at him.
"No contractor is indispensable.""
"You have no idea what contracts I control.""
"And you have no idea how little that matters right now.""
Victor's phone rang.
Every eye moved toward it.
He checked the screen.
Then declined the call.
Five seconds later, it rang again.
He declined it again.
Reed glanced at me.
I didn't need him to say anything.
Somebody knew Victor was in trouble.
The phone rang a third time.
Captain Brooks held out her hand.
Victor stared at it.
"No.""
"Then leave it in your pocket.""
The ringing stopped.
A message notification sounded.
Victor's eyes flicked toward the hallway.
That tiny movement told me more than anything he'd said.
He wanted out.
Brooks saw it.
"Mr. Hale, sit down.""
"I'm not under arrest.""
"No.""
"Then I'm leaving.""
He took one step.
Staff Sergeant Nolan blocked the doorway.
Victor stopped.
"Move.""
Nolan didn't.
Victor looked at Brooks.
"This is unlawful.""
Brooks remained calm.
"You filed an assault complaint on a secured military installation. We're investigating that complaint and the evidence connected to it. You may wait here while we clarify your status.""
Victor's nostrils flared.
Then he sat.
Hard.
Twenty minutes later, another security team arrived.
Brooks told Reed and me to accompany her to Warehouse Seven.
Victor stayed behind with Nolan and the MPs.
As I reached the door, Victor called my name.
"Sarah.""
I stopped.
It was the first time he'd used my first name.
"Don't do this.""
The arrogance was gone.
His voice was low.
Almost pleading.
I turned.
"Do what?""
"You don't understand what's happening.""
"Then explain it.""
He glanced at Brooks.
Then back at me.
"Some doors should stay closed.""
Reed stepped beside me.
"That supposed to be a threat?""
Victor shook his head.
"No.""
His eyes stayed on mine.
"It's a warning.""
Brooks opened the door.
"Let's go.""
Warehouse Seven stood at the far edge of the logistics compound.
The afternoon sun made the metal walls shimmer.
Two security vehicles were already outside.
The warehouse supervisor met us at the entrance.
He looked confused.
"Captain, what's going on?""
"We need access to the refrigeration shipment received last month.""
The supervisor frowned.
"Which shipment?""
"Six portable medical refrigeration units.""
His confusion deepened.
"We don't have six.""
I felt cold despite the heat.
"Yes, we do.""
"No, Corporal. We received two.""
I stared at him.
"I processed the initial count. Six crates came through staging.""
He shook his head.
"Two reached us.""
Brooks asked, "Where are the receiving documents?""
"In the office.""
We followed him inside.
The warehouse smelled like dust, oil, and hot metal.
The supervisor opened a filing cabinet.
He pulled out a folder.
My name was on the first page.
My signature was at the bottom.
Again.
"That's fake," I said.
The supervisor looked startled.
Brooks took the document.
"Who delivered this?""
"I don't remember.""
"Check your log.""
He opened a binder.
His finger moved down the page.
Then stopped.
His face went pale.
"What?"" Brooks asked.
He turned the binder around.
The delivery authorization had been approved by Major Keller.
Reed muttered, "There it is.""
But Brooks wasn't convinced.
"This tells us Keller authorized movement. It doesn't tell us where four crates went.""
We found the two remaining refrigeration units at the rear of the warehouse.
Their seals were intact.
Brooks photographed everything.
Then my eyes landed on the empty spaces beside them.
Four rectangles in the dust.
Four missing crates.
Someone had removed nearly an entire shipment.
And someone had forged my signature to make it appear legitimate.
My phone vibrated.
I looked down.
Unknown number.
One message.
I opened it.
YOU SHOULD HAVE SIGNED WHEN HE ASKED.
My chest tightened.
Reed saw my face.
"What?""
I showed Brooks.
She read it.
"Don't respond.""
Another message arrived.
THIS IS BIGGER THAN HALE.
Then a photograph loaded beneath it.
It showed me entering my apartment building the previous Friday night.
Taken from across the street.
Reed's expression went dark.
Brooks immediately called security.
"Get someone to Miller's residence.""
My heart began pounding.
Not because of the photograph.
Because of what I suddenly remembered.
There was something inside my apartment.
Something I'd brought home accidentally two nights ago.
When I'd returned to Warehouse Four for my gloves, I'd picked up a small shipping tag stuck to the sole of my boot.
I'd tossed it onto my kitchen counter without thinking.
Now I remembered the number printed across it.
It hadn't belonged to Warehouse Four.
It belonged to one of the four missing crates.
My phone vibrated again.
A third message.
This one contained only six words.
WE'RE ALREADY INSIDE YOUR APARTMENT.
I looked up at Captain Brooks.
"Ma'am...""
My mouth had gone dry.
"There's evidence in my apartment.""
Brooks stared at me.
"What evidence?""
"A shipping tag.""
Her expression sharpened.
"From the missing crates?""
I nodded.
Before she could answer, her radio crackled.
A security officer's voice came through.
"Captain Brooks, we reached Corporal Miller's building.""
Static swallowed the next few words.
Then the voice returned.
"Her apartment door is open.""
Brooks grabbed the radio.
"Do not enter alone.""
A pause.
Then another voice came through in the background.
"Captain...""
Something crashed.
The transmission broke apart.
May you like
And then we heard three words that made every person in that warehouse freeze.
"Someone's still inside.""
