I broke the seal slowly.
The paper inside had been folded twice.
There were only three pages.
The first began with my name.
The second began with a question.
The third ended with a sentence that made me sit down.
I read the pages without speaking.
Laura had written about the aircraft.
She had written about the hydraulic issue.
She had written about a maintenance signature that did not belong to the person whose name appeared beneath it.
But the most disturbing part was not the mechanical information.
It was the final paragraph.
She had written that someone had warned her not to report the discrepancy.
Not asked.
Warned.
I read the sentence twice.
Then I looked up.
“Who warned her?”
Daniel shook his head.
“She never wrote the name.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe she was afraid the letter would be found.”
“She knew someone was watching her.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“What did the investigators say?”
Ethan's father answered.
“They said Laura had been under stress.”
I stared at him.
“Stress.”
“Yes.”
“That's what they used?”
“It was part of the explanation.”
I laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“Of course.”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
I continued reading.
Laura had written that she intended to speak with someone outside the squadron.
Someone senior.
Someone who could review the maintenance records without being influenced by the local chain of command.
The note ended before she named that person.
I looked up.
“Did she ever meet them?”
“We don't know,” Daniel said.
“Then we find out.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“How?”
I turned toward him.
“The records.”
His father shook his head.
“Most of them are gone.”
“Most?”
“Some were archived.”
“Where?”
“Federal records.”
“Can we access them?”
“Not all.”
“Then we'll access what we can.”
He watched me.
“You're serious.”
“I've never been more serious.”
Daniel walked to the desk and opened another drawer.
He removed a small notebook.
“This belonged to Laura.”
I took it carefully.
The cover was worn.
The corners were bent.
Inside were names.
Dates.
Aircraft numbers.
Maintenance codes.
Most of it meant nothing to me.
Then I saw one name.
Mason.
Beside it was a date.
The day before Laura died.
I looked at Daniel.
“Why didn't you show me this earlier?”
“Because I didn't know whether you were ready.”
“I wasn't.”
“And now?”
I closed the notebook.
“Now I don't have a choice.”
Ethan's father sat down.
“There is one thing you should understand.”
I looked at him.
“I spent years believing the official report because I had no reason not to.”
“You had reasons.”
“Yes.”
“What changed?”
He looked at Laura's note.
“You.”
I didn't understand.
“You walked into my house tonight wearing that pin.”
I touched the small Navy wings.
“I didn't know you would recognize it.”
“I recognized what it represented.”
He paused.
“Laura once told me there was only one pilot she trusted to fly beside her in bad weather.”
My throat tightened.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“You knew her?”
“Not well.”
“Then why would she tell you that?”
He looked toward Daniel.
“Because she trusted Daniel.”
Daniel gave a small nod.
“And Daniel trusted you.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Did Laura know him?”
“Yes.”
“Before the crash?”
“Yes.”
“How closely?”
Daniel's expression became guarded.
“Closely enough.”
I waited.
He didn't elaborate.
Ethan noticed the silence.
“What aren't you telling her?”
Daniel looked at him.
“Something that belongs to Laura.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
I turned toward Daniel.
“Tell me.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said, “Laura suspected someone was selling maintenance information.”
I frowned.
“To whom?”
“We never found out.”
“Foreign intelligence?”
“Maybe.”
“Another contractor?”
“Maybe.”
“Someone inside?”
Daniel didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
My stomach tightened.
“If she knew someone was doing that, why would she fly?”
“Because she didn't know how far it went.”
I remembered Laura before the crash.
She had been distracted.
She had kept checking over her shoulder.
She had asked me whether anyone had followed me from the briefing room.
At the time, I had thought she was being paranoid.
Now I wondered whether she had been warning me.
I looked at the final page.
There was a sentence I had overlooked.
If I disappear, look at the second signature.
I read it again.
“The second signature.”
Daniel nodded.
“What does that mean?”
“We don't know.”
I opened the notebook.
The maintenance entries were listed chronologically.
Each had two signatures.
The first was the technician.
The second was the approving officer.
I traced my finger down the page.
Then stopped.
One of the names appeared twice.
But the handwriting was different.
I showed it to Daniel.
He leaned closer.
“That isn't Mason.”
“No.”
“Then who is it?”
I looked at the date.
The day before the crash.
A name beneath the approval line.
Captain Richard Vale.
I knew that name.
He had been one of the officers responsible for flight operations.
“He wasn't assigned to maintenance.”
“No.”
“Then why did he sign?”
Daniel looked at Ethan's father.
His father stood immediately.
“Because that shouldn't have happened.”
I turned to him.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
His face changed.
“Dead.”
I stared.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Convenient.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Don't assume.”
“I didn't.”
“You were thinking it.”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“We don't know whether his death was connected.”
I closed the notebook.
“Then we find out.”
Ethan took a slow breath.
“You're going to investigate this yourself?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“We are.”
He nodded.
His expression was nervous, but determined.
His father stood behind us.
“I'll help.”
I turned.
“I don't need your permission.”
“I know.”
“I don't need you to protect me.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
His answer came quietly.
“Because I was wrong about you.”
I said nothing.
“And because I should have looked harder seven years ago.”
That was the first time his apology sounded genuine.
I accepted it with a nod.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But acknowledgment.
Daniel returned the notebook to me.
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
He reached into the envelope and removed a tiny photograph.
It showed Laura standing beside an aircraft.
On the back was a handwritten date.
The same date as the maintenance discrepancy.
But someone had written another word beneath it.
Tomorrow.
I stared at the photograph.
“Who wrote that?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Laura.”
I turned it over again.
Then I noticed something in the background.
A vehicle.
Parked behind the aircraft.
A black sedan.
Its license plate was visible.
And I remembered seeing that exact car outside the hangar the night before Laura died.
I had forgotten it for seven years.
Until now.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Car in Laura’s Photograph Led Us to a Name I Had Tried to Forget, and Ethan’s Father Finally Revealed What He Had Hidden
The Birthday Dinner Began With a Warning From Ethan, but I Had No Idea His Father Intended to Turn the Evening Into an Interrogation
Part 6 of 12
