Chapter 8 - The Morning Audit
The next morning, the sun broke over Roanoke with an extraordinary, crystal-clear brightness. The heavy valley fog that had haunted the Blue Ridge for three days had been swept away by a cool northern wind, leaving the sky an immaculate, brilliant azure.
I woke up at 0530 without an alarm.
I did my fifty push-ups. I held my plank. I drank the bitter hotel coffee, but this time, it didn't taste like battery acid. It tasted like coffee.
At 0800, my civilian phone rang.
The screen flashed: *Restricted Number.*
I answered. "Captain Maxwell."
"Captain, this is Special Agent Miller, United States Army Criminal Investigation Division, Fort Meade field office."
"Good morning, Agent Miller."
"Ma'am, I am calling to inform you that pursuant to a joint referral received late last night from Colonel Vaughn Archer and the Commonwealth Attorney’s office, we have initiated an official preliminary inquiry into Morrison Hospitality Group regarding falsified subcontracting manifests for the Virginia National Guard training site at Fort Barfoot."
I stood by the window, watching the morning traffic move smoothly along the highway below. "Understood, Agent."
"Our preliminary audit indicates that your name was listed as an inactive managing partner on several state-level logistics bids submitted by Everett Morrison between 2018 and 2021."
A cold thrill ran down my spine. "I have never signed a corporate document for that entity, Agent Miller. My signature was forged."
"We already verified that, ma'am," Miller replied smoothly. "We compared the signatures on the corporate filings to your official Department of Defense signature cards on file at Human Resources Command. They aren't even close. It was an amateur forgery. Your record is completely clear. But Mr. Everett Morrison is facing multiple counts of federal wire fraud and making false statements to a procurement officer."
"Where is he now?"
"Roanoke City Police and state tax investigators served an administrative search warrant on his main catering facility forty minutes ago. The building has been padlocked, the records seized, and his commercial accounts have been frozen."
I closed my eyes, taking a deep, long breath. "And my brother? Holden Morrison?"
"Mr. Holden Morrison was present on site when officers arrived," Miller said. "He is currently cooperating fully with investigators. According to the state troopers, he turned over two external hard drives containing the company’s internal double-entry ledgers without requiring a subpoena. He’s essentially testifying against his father in exchange for immunity on the state-level tax counts."
Holden’s final act of survival.
When the ship finally sank, he hadn't gone down with the captain; he had thrown the captain overboard to secure a seat on the lifeboat. It was despicable, but it was entirely Holden. He was Everett’s creation to the very end.
"Thank you for the update, Agent Miller," I said.
"Thank you for your service, Captain. We will contact you if formal depositions are required for the grand jury, but given the documentation Colonel Archer provided, I doubt this will ever go to trial. Everett Morrison will take a plea by Friday."
I hung up the phone.
I looked around the small, cheap hotel room. My bags were already packed. My Dress Blues hung in their protective black garment bag, resting across the backseat of my rental car down in the lot.
There was nothing left for me in Roanoke.
The debt was settled. The ghosts were laid to rest. The house of lies that Everett had built on the bones of my mother’s labor had been demolished down to its rotten foundation.
I walked out of the room, turned the key into the front desk, and drove away.
May you like
I didn't look back in the rearview mirror.
***