I stared at the small storage device on the desk. The label was faded, but the handwriting was unmistakable. Laura had written my call sign across it in black ink, followed by two words: LISTEN. I reached for it, then stopped before touching it. After everything we had uncovered, I was afraid that whatever waited inside might destroy the last version of the past I had managed to live with.
Daniel noticed my hesitation. “You don't have to hear it tonight.”
“Yes, I do.”
Ethan moved beside me. “Then we'll listen together.”
His father remained standing several feet away. He looked at the device as though it were evidence from a crime scene rather than something that had belonged to two young pilots who had once trusted each other completely.
I picked it up.
It was an older model, the kind we had used before newer digital systems became standard. Laura had given it to me during our final year together. I remembered joking that it was too bulky. She had told me that bulky things survived being dropped.
My throat tightened.
“Do you still have a reader?” I asked.
His father nodded toward the desk.
“There's an adapter in the drawer.”
Daniel found it and connected the device to the computer. A single audio file appeared.
No title.
No date.
Only a string of numbers.
I looked at Daniel.
“That's how we named classified recordings.”
He nodded.
Ethan sat down beside me.
I clicked the file.
Static filled the room.
Then Laura's voice appeared.
“Testing.”
I closed my eyes.
Seven years disappeared.
Her voice sounded exactly as I remembered it—slightly lower when she was tired, quick when she was excited, and always carrying that faint trace of amusement she couldn't completely hide.
“This is Laura. If you're hearing this, something has happened.”
The recording paused.
Then she continued.
“I'm making this because I don't trust the official channels anymore.”
Daniel looked at Ethan's father.
I kept listening.
“The maintenance problem on aircraft seven-four-one is real. Someone has altered the inspection records. I've checked the original entries twice.”
There was a rustle of paper.
“I confronted Mason. He denied knowing anything.”
My heart tightened.
Laura continued.
“I don't believe him.”
Then came a pause.
“I don't believe Vale either.”
I looked at the notebook.
The names were lining up.
Then Laura said something that made me sit forward.
“But I don't think either of them is running this.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Who is?”
The recording continued.
“I think somebody above them is using the maintenance contract to move information through the base. I don't know what they're moving yet. I only know the paperwork doesn't match the work.”
A chair scraped somewhere in the recording.
Then Laura whispered.
“Someone is outside.”
The audio went silent for several seconds.
When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible.
“It's the civilian.”
I felt cold.
“Hale,” Daniel whispered.
Laura's voice returned.
“He came to the maintenance office after midnight. He shouldn't have had access.”
The recording ended.
The computer displayed an error.
I stared at the screen.
“That can't be all.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Maybe the file was damaged.”
“No.”
I picked up the device.
“There are more files.”
I connected it again.
A second file appeared.
Then a third.
The first recording had only been the beginning.
The next file contained Laura speaking more quickly.
“I found the transfer records.”
My pulse increased.
“She isn't sure who she's talking about,” Ethan said.
“Listen,” I told him.
Laura continued.
“Northstar has been moving components under emergency maintenance codes. Some of the shipments never reached the listed destinations.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“That's the missing piece.”
Laura named three shipment numbers.
One of them matched an entry in the notebook.
Another matched a date.
The third matched the night before her death.
I wrote the numbers down.
Then Laura said my name.
“Nightbird knows something is wrong.”
I froze.
She continued.
“She doesn't know how much. I'm not telling her yet.”
I opened my eyes.
Ethan looked at me.
“Why wouldn't she tell you?”
“Because she was trying to protect me.”
The recording continued.
“I think someone is watching her.”
My breathing became shallow.
“She has already noticed the car.”
The black sedan.
Laura had known.
“She asked me who it belonged to. I lied.”
My hand tightened around the edge of the desk.
“She cannot know yet. If they realize she knows, they'll use her.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Daniel.
“She knew I was being watched.”
“Yes.”
“She knew before I did.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she was trying to keep you alive.”
The words hurt more than I expected.
I pressed play on the third recording.
There was a long stretch of static.
Then Laura's voice.
This time she sounded frightened.
“Nightbird, if you hear this, don't trust Mason.”
My entire body went still.
“Don't trust Vale.”
Another pause.
“And don't trust the person who tells you the crash was your fault.”
I stopped breathing.
Ethan reached for my hand.
Laura continued.
“You didn't sign the maintenance approval.”
The false signature.
“She knows you didn't.”
I looked at the forged document.
“Who is she talking about?” Ethan whispered.
I didn't answer.
Laura's voice continued.
“She has been asking questions. She found the second signature. She found the missing inspection.”
There was a sharp noise.
Someone had entered the room.
Laura whispered.
“I have to go.”
Then the recording ended.
I stared at the computer.
My mind was racing.
Laura had known about the forged signature.
She had known about the black car.
She had known I was being watched.
And she had known someone was preparing to blame me.
But the phrase that wouldn't leave me was one sentence.
She knows you didn't.
Laura had said it as though the person behind everything was a woman.
Daniel heard me whisper it.
“You caught that too.”
“Yes.”
“Could be a reference to someone else.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
Ethan's father suddenly looked pale.
I turned toward him.
“What?”
He didn't speak.
“Who is she?”
He looked at Daniel.
Daniel's expression hardened.
“Tell her.”
His father shook his head.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
He sat down.
“There was an intelligence officer attached to the contract review.”
“Name?”
“Evelyn Hart.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Daniel's face did.
He recognized it.
“She's alive,” he said.
His father nodded.
“Where?”
“Retired.”
“Where?”
He hesitated.
“North Carolina.”
I looked at the computer.
“We need to find her.”
Daniel nodded.
But before he could answer, another sound came from the hallway.
A floorboard creaked.
Everyone turned.
Ethan stood.
His father reached instinctively toward the cabinet where he had stored the old documents.
Daniel raised one hand.
“Don't.”
The house was silent.
Then the front door clicked.
Ethan's mother called from the hallway.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
His father moved toward the entrance.
I followed.
The door was still locked.
His mother stood beside it, confused.
“What happened?”
“Did anyone come in?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“No.”
Then Ethan noticed something.
A white envelope had been pushed underneath the door.
No name.
No return address.
Just one handwritten word.
Nightbird.
I picked it up.
My fingers went cold.
Daniel looked at me.
“Don't open it here.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because whoever left it knows you're here.”
I opened it anyway.
Inside was a photograph.
The same black sedan.
Parked outside the house.
Taken less than an hour earlier.
On the back were four words.
Stop digging, Nightbird.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Threat Outside the House Forced Us to Move Before Dawn, and the Person We Sought Held the Missing Piece of Laura’s Final Decision
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 9 of 12
