Chapter 7 - The Search of the Master Suite and the Secret in the Safe
The living room had transformed into a sterile tactical holding area under the sharp, unblinking eyes of Deputy Walker and the armed military escorts.
Nineteen people were lined up shoulder-to-shoulder against the pine-paneled wall, their heads bowed, their previous laughter choked off into silence.
Ryan Vance stood in the corner, his fists clenched so tightly his fingernails dug bloody crescents into his palms, but he didn't dare utter another word.
Every time his eyes flickered toward me, Captain Rodriguez shifted his weight, reminding Ryan of the immense physical violence held barely in check.
I turned my back on them and walked down the wide, carpeted hallway toward my master bedroom suite.
The heavy oak door, which I had secured with a six-digit digital keypad before my deployment, stood ajar with visible pry marks around the brass latch.
My blood ran cold.
A civilian trespassing in a living room was a gross violation of boundaries, but this room was an official Department of Defense sensitive storage zone.
I pushed the door open, Sheriff Thomas following closely behind with his tactical flashlight already drawn.
The master suite was a disaster zone of reckless entitlement.
My handcrafted cherry-wood bed was unmade, the pure silk sheets tangled and stained with what looked like barbecue sauce and spilled beer.
Suitcases belonging to Ryan's sister, Brenda, and her husband were thrown open on my cedar chest, cheap synthetic clothes spilling out onto the floor.
Perfume bottles and hair products were scattered across my dresser, knocking over the framed photograph of my late parents at my West Point graduation.
The glass in the frame was cracked right down the middle, splitting my mother’s smiling face in two.
I picked up the cracked frame, gently wiped the dust from the glass, and placed it carefully on the nightstand.
"Look at the closet door, Colonel," Sheriff Thomas whispered, pointing the beam of his heavy flashlight toward the walk-in wardrobe.
The heavy louvered door had been completely torn off one of its brass hinges, hanging crookedly against the frame.
Inside the walk-in closet, behind a false wall of winter parkas, sat my reinforced steel field safe.
The safe held not only my emergency reserve funds and personal family heirlooms, but also my encrypted government satellite transceiver.
The electronic keypad on the safe was battered.
Deep, jagged chisel marks scored the heavy powder-coated steel around the digital dial.
A cold chisel and a heavy framing hammer lay discarded on the plush carpet right beside the safe door.
They hadn't just broken into my bedroom to sleep in my bed.
They had actively attempted to breach a hardened military-grade security container with heavy tools.
"Captain Rodriguez!" I called out, my voice ringing down the hallway with absolute command.
Rodriguez appeared in the doorway within three seconds, halting with a sharp click of his heels.
"Ma'am!"
"Bring Ryan Vance and Kenneth Vance in here immediately," I ordered, my eyes locked on the battered steel dial.
"And have Deputy Walker bring the evidence collection kit."
Ten seconds later, Ryan and Kenneth were marched into the room, their faces pale and sweating under the harsh hallway lights.
When Kenneth’s eyes landed on the hammer and the chisel lying on the carpet, a sharp, audible gasp escaped his throat.
"Who touched this safe?" I asked, turning slowly to face the father and son duo.
Neither of them spoke.
Kenneth looked down at his scuffed loafers, while Ryan tried to maintain a defiant scowl that crumbled under my icy gaze.
"I asked a question," I said, stepping within two feet of Ryan, looking up into his sweat-slicked face.
"Who took a hammer and a cold chisel to an encrypted Department of Defense property container?"
"We didn't know what it was!" Kenneth blurted out, his hands shaking violently as he tried to defend his son.
"Ryan found it when he was looking for extra blankets on the top shelf!"
"He thought... he thought it was an old family lockbox that your dad left behind!"
"He thought there might be some cash or old deeds inside that could help Jessica with her credit cards!"
"He didn't mean any harm, Emily! He was just trying to help your sister get her finances straight!"
"You tried to break into a locked container in a house you broke into, to steal money to pay off your own debts?"
I let out a soft, humorless laugh that made the fine hairs on Kenneth's neck stand on end.
"Kenneth, do you have any idea what that container holds?"
"It holds an encrypted AN/PRC-117G tactical satellite communication terminal assigned directly to the Special Operations Command."
"It holds classified crypto-keys and operational transition documents that carry a Top Secret SCI clearance level."
"In the eyes of the United States Code, Title 18, Section 793, what you are looking at is not a stolen lockbox."
"That is an attempted breach of national security hardware, carrying a mandatory minimum penalty of ten years in a federal penitentiary."
Ryan's knees completely buckled.
His legs gave way beneath him, and he sank onto the edge of my ruined bed, his face buried in his trembling hands.
"Oh God..." Ryan whimpered, his arrogance finally shattering into pure, unadulterated hysteria.
"I didn't know... I swear to God, Emily, I didn't know!"
"Jessica told me you were just an office worker! She said you didn't have real power!"
"She said you bought this house with money Dad left you before he died!"
"She told us this house was practically family property!"
"Jessica lied to you to feed your pathetic vanity, Ryan," I said, looking down at him with utter disgust.
"And you were stupid enough and arrogant enough to believe her."
"Sheriff Thomas, bag the hammer and the chisel for forensic latent prints."
"I want every single fingerprint on those tools lifted and cataloged before midnight."
"Captain Rodriguez, contact the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s field office in Richmond."
"Inform them of an attempted physical breach of classified command equipment on a designated officer's quarters."
"Let them send their own field agents to take custody of this room."
"No! Please! Emily, don't call the FBI!" Kenneth cried out, dropping down onto his knees on the carpet, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks.
"It will ruin Ryan! He has a record from six years ago for a bar fight—if he gets hit with federal charges, he will go away for life!"
"Think about your niece! Think about little Lily and Ben!"
"You should have thought about Lily and Ben before you let your son threaten me on my own porch, Kenneth," I replied without a shred of pity.
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"You chose to act like kings in a stolen castle."
"Now you're going to face the law as common criminals."
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