Chapter 4
Chapter 5: ASK YOUR FATHER WHY
Lena found the envelope pushed beneath the door of her barracks room.
Her last name was handwritten across the front.
MERCER.
Nothing else.
She stared at it for almost a full minute before bending to pick it up.
Inside was an old photograph.
Creased.
Faded.
Taken inside the same mess hall.
The furniture was different and the walls had once been painted another color, but the location was unmistakable.
Five soldiers sat around a table.
The same table.
Or at least the exact place where Vaughn’s table eventually stood.
Lena immediately recognized one man.
A much younger Elias Rourke.
Standing behind him was Marcus Hale.
Younger too.
Captain’s bars on his uniform.
Cold spread through Lena.
At the center of the photograph sat a woman.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
A familiar jawline.
Lena stopped breathing.
She flipped the photograph over.
Four words were written there.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHY.
Her hands started shaking.
Lena’s father had died when she was nine.
At least that was the story her mother had always given her.
Daniel Mercer.
Former soldier.
Training accident.
Vehicle crash.
That was nearly everything Lena knew.
Her mother refused to discuss his military years.
“You remember him smiling,” she would always say. “Let that be enough.”
Part of the reason Lena joined the Army was because she hated not knowing.
Now she stared at the woman in the photograph.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
Not similar.
Not merely familiar.
Her mother.
Rachel Mercer.
Wearing a uniform Lena never knew she had worn.
Lena sat heavily on the edge of her bunk.
Her phone was already in her hand.
She called Hale.
He answered after four rings.
“Mercer?”
She said nothing.
“Lena?”
It was the first time he had ever used her first name.
That alone frightened her.
She looked down at the photograph.
“What table did my mother sit at?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Silence.
“Hale.”
He exhaled.
“Where did you get that?”
Her stomach dropped.
“So you know.”
“Lena—”
“My mother served at Fort Halbrook.”
“Yes.”
“You knew her.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father.”
A longer pause.
“Yes.”
Lena shut her eyes.
“What happened?”
“I need to speak with you face-to-face.”
“No.”
“Lena.”
“No more closed rooms. No more controlled conversations.”
She stood.
“Tell me now.”
Hale lowered his voice.
“The investigation into Rourke did not begin with your complaint.”
Her heartbeat accelerated.
“It began twenty-four years ago.”
Hale met her at a small café beyond the installation gate.
He chose a table near a window.
No uniform.
No military police.
No official folder.
Just an older man and a cup of coffee he never touched.
Lena placed the photograph in front of him.
He stared at it.
His composure disappeared for several seconds.
“Where did this come from?”
“Someone slid it under my door.”
Hale looked toward the window.
“Does anyone else know?”
“Answer me.”
He returned his attention to her.
“Your mother was a military investigator.”
Lena almost laughed.
Not because it was amusing.
Because the statement felt too large to fit into reality.
“My mother teaches elementary school.”
“She does now.”
Lena stared at him.
Hale continued.
“Twenty-four years ago, she was assigned to Fort Halbrook.”
“Under Rourke?”
“Beside him.”
He touched one corner of the photograph.
“Rourke was a staff sergeant. I was a captain. Your father worked as a mechanic.”
Lena sat slowly.
“And that table?”
Hale looked toward the photograph.
“That was where informants met.”
A chill passed over her skin.
“What?”
“There was a corruption investigation.”
“What kind?”
“Equipment theft. Payroll fraud. Government material being sold illegally. It expanded over time.”
“To what?”
Hale looked ashamed.
“Retaliation.”
The word hung between them.
“Soldiers who reported misconduct were transferred, punished, or injured in training.”
Lena thought immediately of Ruiz.
“No.”
Hale nodded.
“Yes.”
Her stomach tightened.
“This was happening before Vaughn?”
“Decades before him.”
“And Rourke?”
“He was a witness.”
Lena leaned forward.
“A witness?”
“At first.”
Hale looked down at the photograph.
“Your mother believed someone was exposing the identities of complainants.”
Lena could feel the story taking shape.
Too familiar.
“She submitted evidence.”
“Yes.”
“It disappeared.”
“Yes.”
Her fingers tightened below the table.
“What happened to my father?”
Hale did not respond.
Lena’s voice dropped.
“What happened?”
“He helped her.”
“How?”
“He discovered maintenance documents showing a training vehicle had been tampered with after a soldier submitted a complaint.”
Ruiz.
The same thing.
The past had repeated itself.
Not symbolically.
Mechanically.
“My father found proof.”
“Yes.”
“And then he died in a vehicle accident.”
Hale shut his eyes.
“It was officially ruled an accident.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
“Did my mother?”
“No.”
Lena rose so quickly the table shifted.
Several customers glanced over.
She lowered her voice.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew enough.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“Your mother asked me not to.”
“My mother?”
Hale nodded.
“After Daniel died, Rachel left the service. She took you with her. She believed the investigation was compromised.”
“By Rourke?”
“We didn’t know.”
Lena pointed at the photograph.
“But you stayed here.”
“Yes.”
“You stayed for twenty-four years.”
“Yes.”
“You were promoted.”
“Yes.”
“You worked with him.”
“Yes.”
Each answer hurt more because Hale refused to hide behind excuses.
Lena tapped the photograph.
“Then why did someone leave this under my door now?”
“I don’t know.”
“But somebody knows.”
“Yes.”
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
YOUR FATHER DIDN’T DIE BECAUSE OF ROURKE.
Lena showed Hale.
The color left his face.
May you like
Another message appeared.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHO SIGNED THE VEHICLE RELEASE.
