Chapter 10 - A Witness Who Should Be Dead
They met Marcus Dean's daughter in a twenty-four-hour laundromat. Olivia Dean was nineteen, wearing a college sweatshirt and keeping both fists buried in the front pocket. She carried an old phone in a sandwich bag.
“My dad texted me after the police told me he was dead,” she said. “He said not to come home.”
“Show me,” Avery said.
The message contained a picture of a red bridge and the words ASK ABOUT THE NINTH FLIGHT. No location data. No signature.
Rourke studied it. “He wants us at the test range.”
Avery shook her head. “Maybe. Or somebody wants you there.”
Olivia looked between them. “Please stop talking about him like he's bait.”
That silenced everyone. Avery pulled up a chair. “You're right. Tell us what he was like.”
“He fixed things. He sang when he cooked. And he would never leave me guessing if he had a choice.” Her voice cracked. “He didn't even forget my birthday when he was overseas.”
Avery thought of Emma's awful airport candy. The little promises made by people who believe there will be more time.
They compared Marcus's text with the envelope. The ninth flight had been a test transport that officially landed safely. It carried an experimental navigation unit and an engineering team. The unit later disappeared, along with its records.
Ruiz found the red bridge in a maintenance diagram, not at the range but beneath the base's oldest hangar. The drawing showed a narrow elevated walkway painted in red primer.
“That's where the archive server used to sit,” Ruiz said.
Avery checked her watch. Almost midnight. The card's number—2146—suddenly felt less like a memory and more like an appointment.
May you like
Olivia's bagged phone vibrated. Another message appeared, just three words.
DON'T BRING ROURKE.
