Chapter 3 Independent Command #3
“I have no proof that he knew about the missing equipment,” I said. “The messages I reviewed showed him falsifying personal alibis. I did not see discussion of generator diversion.”
Marisol’s gaze sharpened with approval.
Ward continued.
“Would Mr. Maddox benefit financially if Harborlight lost its county authorization?”
“No.”
“Would Breakwater?”
“No. The club would lose transport and service contracts.”
“Would BaySpan?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“BaySpan is seeking an exclusive regional contract. Harborlight’s cooperative model is one of the primary obstacles.”
Ward leaned closer to her screen.
“Why?”
“We maintain independent equipment records and use multiple service providers. BaySpan’s proposal would place warehousing, transport, maintenance, and compliance reporting under one contractor.”
“Their company.”
“Yes.”
“Which would reduce independent verification.”
“Yes.”
The investigator looked down again.
“Mrs. Maddox, seven generators are missing. State records indicate Harborlight received them through routes authorized under codes associated with your organization.”
“We did not receive them.”
“Your name appears as responsible executive director.”
“I know.”
“Until we establish otherwise, the administrative hold remains.”
“Shelters are operating now.”
“The hold does not prohibit use of equipment already in your custody.”
“It prevents us from purchasing replacements, fuel, and emergency supplies beyond our unrestricted reserves.”
“I understand.”
“No,” I said. “You understand administratively. I am telling you what it means operationally. If we lose two generators tonight, I cannot replace them using restricted grant funds. If a shelter exceeds food capacity, I cannot rely on reimbursement for an emergency purchase. If fuel costs rise after road closures, we may exhaust unrestricted cash before the storm clears.”
Marisol raised one finger, warning me to control my tone.
Ward did not appear offended.
“What are you asking for?”
“A limited emergency release for documented storm expenditures under dual approval.”
“I cannot authorize that during this call.”
“Who can?”
“The deputy director.”
“Then add the request to your report.”
“I will.”
“Include that every purchase will require my signature and Juno Reyes’s signature, with receipts transmitted daily.”
Ward made another note.
“Your counsel may submit the formal request within the hour.”
“She will.”
Marisol nodded.
The interview continued for twenty-six more minutes.
When it ended, I remained seated before the dark screen.
My reflection stared back at me.
Hair pulled into a knot.
Harborlight polo wrinkled.
No makeup.
Face pale beneath fluorescent light.
I did not look strong.
I looked tired.
Strength had nothing to do with appearance.
It was a series of decisions made after collapse became understandable.
I opened the trailer door.
North, Juno, and Gauge waited beneath the awning.
“Well?” Juno asked.
“The hold remains. Marisol is requesting a limited emergency release.”
“And Rhys?” North said.
“Ward will interview him separately.”
Gauge lifted his laptop.
“I found something before we stopped the search.”
“What?”
“One disputed route has a hotel-network timestamp attached to a BaySpan upload.”
My stomach tightened.
“Which date?”
He told me.
I knew it before I checked the list.
The night after our anniversary.
Rhys had signed out brK-12 at ten forty.
A Harborlight manifest placed him on the western fuel corridor until three fifteen.
A photograph on the second phone placed him inside Room 214 with Simone at twelve eighteen.
The state’s missing-generator record used the same route code at twelve forty-six.
Twenty-eight minutes after the motel photograph.
The affair and the equipment fraud were no longer separate disasters.
They occupied the same timestamp.
I looked through the rain toward the parish hall, where residents were settling beneath donated blankets while volunteers checked oxygen machines and medication coolers.
Seven generators were missing.
Harborlight had been named as the last responsible custodian.
Rhys’s invented route connected us to the theft.
And somewhere inside BaySpan’s records, a lie my husband created to deceive me had become evidence against everything I built.
“Lock the file,” I said.
Gauge nodded.
North watched me.
“What now?”
I picked up the next shelter manifest.
“Now we keep every generator we still have running.”
The trailer radio activated.
“Harborlight Command, motorcycle scout two.”
I took the handset.
“Command.”
“Water crossing Parish Eight. Maybe six inches and rising. Cars are turning back.”
“Can you reach the eastern shelter by levee shoulder?”
“Checking now.”
“Do not cross moving water. Report in five.”
“Copy.”
I marked the closure on the map.
Then I drew a new route around it.
Rhys had made his choices.
The state would make its investigation.
The storm would take whatever weakness it could find.
I could not control any of those things.
I could control the next decision.
For the first time in twelve years, I made it without wondering what my husband would think.