When Maya heard that, the past moved beneath her feet.
They allowed the meeting under observation.
Vance sat behind a table in a secure interview room.
He looked different without swagger.
Smaller somehow.
His attorney sat beside him.
Maya remained standing.
Vance stared at her for a long time.
Then he said, “You carried me.”
Maya did not respond.
“Red Lantern.”
His voice weakened.
“I knew there was something about the way you looked at me in the bar.”
“You were drunk.”
“I remember your voice now.”
Maya folded her arms.
“Why did you ask to see me?”
Vance looked toward his attorney.
The attorney nodded.
Vance inhaled.
“Because Holt was right.”
Maya felt the room tighten.
“About what?”
“The intelligence.”
“You knew it wasn’t authenticated.”
Vance’s eyes dropped.
“Yes.”
Maya’s anger arrived so cleanly that it felt cold.
“You sent that aircraft anyway.”
“I passed the update.”
“You knew.”
“I thought the target was real.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
“You nearly got your entire team killed.”
Vance looked up.
“I know.”
“And afterward?”
“I was told to keep quiet.”
“By Keating?”
“No.”
Maya watched him carefully.
“Who?”
Vance shook his head.
“I don’t have proof.”
“Then tell me the name.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
His composure fractured.
“You don’t understand.”
Maya leaned toward the table.
“Twelve years ago I spent seven hours moving your people through freezing terrain because somebody wanted a career-making mission badly enough to ignore the rules. Friday night you hit me because I wouldn’t clean up beer you spilled on my boot.”
Vance flinched.
“You’re right. I don’t understand.”
His attorney whispered something.
Vance ignored him.
“I hated Holt.”
Maya waited.
“He wouldn’t let Red Lantern go. He said we owed the people who came after us the truth.”
“And you?”
“I wanted it buried.”
“Why?”
“Because if the truth came out, I was finished.”
There it was.
No excuse.
No decorated Ranger language.
Just fear.
“I spent twelve years proving I deserved to survive that valley,” Vance said.
Maya’s expression did not change.
“You spent twelve years making other people afraid to tell the truth.”
Vance looked away.
“I became exactly the thing Holt said I was protecting.”
“What thing?”
“A coward with rank.”
The words hung in the room.
Maya felt no satisfaction.
Vance continued.
“Holt called someone three days before he died.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were his last recorded call.”
“He called me afterward.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he had proof.”
“Of what?”
“Who altered the intelligence.”
Maya leaned forward.
“And?”
“He said if anything happened to him, the proof would survive.”
“What happened to him?”
Vance’s eyes filled with something that looked very much like shame.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Did you order anyone to hurt him?”
“No.”
“Did you know someone intended to?”
“No.”
“Then why were you afraid?”
Vance looked directly at her.
“Because the person Holt accused is still on this base.”
Maya’s breathing slowed.
“Who?”
Vance whispered the name.
Maya stared at him.
For the first time since entering the room, she lost control of her expression.
Because the name Vance gave her was not Samuel Keating.
It was Mack Donnelly.
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