Chapter 4 - Bay Six After Dark
"Owen Finch isn't dead," I said. "He left the Army."
"That's what his discharge file says," Addie replied. "The personnel system flagged him deceased eighteen months ago."
Owen had been Liam's medic on that convoy. He'd carried me out of the burning truck before disappearing from our lives. I remembered a thin kid with a nervous laugh and a tattoo of a paper airplane on his wrist. If Owen had written the medical times, he'd know exactly when Liam was still breathing.
"I'm going to Bay Six," I said.
"Bell told you not to go alone."
"Then meet me by the north fence."
Addie showed up at nine with a flashlight, a thermos of bad coffee, and the expression she wore whenever she thought I was doing something stupid.
"For the record, this is stupid," she said.
"Recorded."
Bay Six stood dark behind a row of maintenance vehicles. I expected a trap. Instead I found Voss sitting on an overturned bucket, his hands clasped between his knees.
"You came with backup," he said.
"She's here to keep me from hitting you."
"Fair."
His voice sounded different without an audience. Younger. Frightened.
"That note was Owen's," he said. "He made me swear I'd give it to you if anything happened. I tried to keep it hidden. Then Price told me to scare you into signing retirement papers."
"You could've said no."
"I know."
I showed him the postcard. He rubbed his forehead. "Blue seal. Liam told Owen that too."
"What does it mean?"
Voss stood and walked to an old maintenance locker. He didn't break a lock; he used a key he'd been carrying for two years. Inside sat a dented red first-aid case with a blue inspection seal across its latches.
"I was ordered to send this to scrap," he said. "I couldn't."
The seal peeled away with a papery crack. Beneath gauze, tape, and a worn pair of gloves lay Liam's dog tags, a child-sized friendship bracelet, and a small digital voice recorder wrapped in a plastic bag.
I picked up the tags. The cold metal bit into my palm. For the first time in two years, I let myself say his name out loud.
"Liam."
Addie pressed the recorder's play button.
My brother's voice came through the static, weak but unmistakable. "Nora, listen carefully. The convoy didn't stop because of the blast. They stopped us before it. I saw what was on the trucks."
A man's voice interrupted him: "Corporal, put that away."
Then Liam shouted, "Tell my sister the medicine wasn't going to the clinic!"
A sharp bang swallowed the rest of his sentence. The recording went dark.
May you like
Voss stared at the device, his face gray. "That wasn't in the copy Price made us listen to," he whispered.
Behind us, the motor pool lights snapped on. A voice from the doorway said, "Hands where I can see them. Every one of you."
