Chapter 11
The rear door of the unmarked black SUV clicked open from the inside.
Victoria hesitated for a fraction of a second, feeling the cold rain soak into her high ponytail.
Through the tinted window, she could see the silhouette of Martha sitting upright and composed in the backseat.
Victoria didn't hesitate any longer.
She stepped off the curb, slid into the vehicle, and pulled the heavy door shut behind her.
The interior of the SUV smelled of old leather, rain, and faint, clean ozone.
Martha sat beside her without turning her head immediately, her scarred face illuminated only by the faint dashboard glow.
"You left Julian back there alone," Martha noted quietly, her voice devoid of triumph.
"He’s surrounded by the wreckage he helped create," Victoria replied, folding her hands in her lap.
"Just like my father."
Martha turned her head then, her opaque eyes catching the amber light of a passing streetlamp.
The intense blue glow in her pupils had subsided into a calm, steady azure hue.
"Most people in your position would have tried to destroy the ledger and bury the hard drive," Martha said.
"Why didn't you?"
"Because my father’s legacy was already dead," Victoria said firmly.
"Living a lie to protect a ghost isn't loyalty.
It’s a prison sentence."
Martha gave a slow, approving nod.
"Clara said the same thing, the night before she boarded that submarine."
The SUV pulled away smoothly from the curb, merging into the wet, empty lanes of the highway heading south toward the naval yards.
Victoria looked out the window at the blurred city lights streaming past.
"Where are we going, Martha?" Victoria asked.
"Not to Norfolk," Martha replied.
"To the private dock in Portsmouth.
There is someone waiting there who wants to give you the rest of the file."
Victoria felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
"Who?"
May you like
"The lead recovery diver who pulled Clara’s locker from the trench," Martha said.
"The man your father paid off to falsify the autopsy report."
