My hands were cold, but I kept them behind my back, refusing to let anyone see them shake.
Then the diver surfaced with the bag.
It was placed into a recovery container and carried onto the dock.
Water streamed from the canvas.
The zipper had opened halfway, and a few laminated pages floated inside the container.
Bell put on gloves.
“Commander, can you identify the contents without touching them?”
“Yes.”
He opened the outer flap carefully.
The inspection binder was there, swollen but intact.
The tablet case had separated from the bag and was lodged beneath the binder.
A small evidence pouch containing access cards had been torn loose but remained sealed.
I exhaled.
“The tablet is protected,” I said.
“The case is rated for immersion.”
“Good.”
Bell inspected the binder without removing it.
“Anything missing?”
“I need the documents dried and inventoried.”
A recovery technician carried the container to a folding table under a portable canopy.
Rosalind helped me identify each item while Bell photographed the contents.
The binder held the inspection schedule, infrastructure drawings, contractor reports, and my handwritten notes.
Several pages had bled at the edges, but the protective sleeves had done their job.
The tablet powered on after the technician connected it to an approved portable battery.
The screen lit up.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Then Rosalind leaned closer.
“The assessment folder is open.”
“That may have been the last screen displayed,” I said.
Bell examined the tablet without touching it.
“Commander, were you the last person to access this device?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Approximately 7:55.”
He looked at the system log.
“According to this, the device was unlocked at 8:12.”
I stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because the tablet was in the bag.”
“Your sister approached you at what time?”
“About 8:25.”
Bell turned the screen toward me.
There were three recorded authentication events.
The first at 7:55, when I had opened the inspection folder.
The second at 8:12.
The third at 8:14.
“Could it have unlocked accidentally?”
I asked.
“Not with the access protocol installed.”
I looked toward my vehicle.
It was parked approximately fifty yards away, beyond a line of barriers.
Bell continued, “At 8:14, a file was copied to an external device.”
The cold in my hands spread up my arms.
“What file?”
He read the name from the screen.
“Appendix C.
Waterfront Vendor Access Log.”
Rosalind’s expression changed.
“What’s in that appendix?” she asked.
“Every contractor and vendor authorized to enter the waterfront during the inspection period,” I said.
“Company names, vehicle identifiers, temporary access times.”
“Was it classified?”
Bell asked.
“Controlled information.
Not for public distribution.”
The recovery technician looked up from the drying table.
“Commander, the binder is missing one section.”
I moved closer.
He pointed to the divider marked Appendix C.
The tab was there.
The pages were not.
For a moment, no one moved.
The binder had been secured in a protective sleeve.
The pages could not have simply washed away without tearing the sleeve apart.
The other sections were present, damp but intact.
Bell studied the empty divider.
“Was the appendix in the binder when you left the operations building?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“I reviewed it in my office before I departed.”
“Who else knew it was there?”
“Master Chief Kettleman.
Ms.
Vega.
The inspection team.”
“And anyone who accessed the tablet?”
I looked again at the device.
The file had been opened, copied, and closed before Delphine ever came toward me.
My sister had thrown the bag into the water.
But she had not been the first person to handle it.
Bell lowered his voice.
“Commander, I need to ask you something difficult.”
I met his eyes.
“Ask.”
“Is it possible your sister knew what was in the bag before she threw it?”
“No.”
He waited.
I thought of Delphine’s fury, her accusations, the way she had marched toward the edge while I warned her to stop.
I thought of how confidently she had behaved—until she saw my rank.
“No,” I repeated.
“She didn’t know about the documents.”
Bell nodded, but he did not look satisfied.
“Then someone else may have.”
Behind us, Delphine had been listening.
She stepped closer, clutching her phone.
“I didn’t take anything,” she said.
No one had accused her.
Perhaps that was why the words sounded so sincere.
Bell turned to her.
“Did you touch the bag before you threw it?”
“No.”
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Did anyone approach you or speak to you before you came over here?”
Delphine looked toward her van.
A small blue folder rested on the driver’s seat.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Think carefully.”
She pressed her lips together.
“Someone was standing near the van when I arrived.”
“Who?”
“I assumed he worked for the event.”
“Describe him.”
“Medium height.
Dark jacket.
A baseball cap.”
She glanced at me.
“He asked if I was Delphine Vale.”
The sound of my own surname in her mouth made something inside me turn.
“What did he say?”
Bell asked.
“He said my sister had been asking questions about my business.”
I felt Rosalind’s eyes on me.
“Did I ever ask questions about your business?”
I said.
Delphine shook her head quickly.
“No.”
“What else?”
“He said you were going to make a report that would cost me the contract.”
“That’s not true.”
“I know that now.”
Her voice cracked—not dramatically, but with the embarrassment of someone hearing her own mistake spoken aloud.
“What did he look like?”
Bell asked again.
“I told you.
Dark jacket.
Cap.
He had a badge clipped to his belt.”
“What kind of badge?”
“I couldn’t see it.”
“Did he give you the messages?”
“No.
He said the event coordinator had explained everything.”
Bell glanced at me.
“Did he tell you to confront your sister?”
Delphine did not answer immediately.
That silence told us enough.
“He said I shouldn’t let you interfere,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes for a second.
All morning, I had assumed Delphine had created the entire scene out of old resentment.
Now I understood that someone had reached into that resentment and pulled.
It did not excuse her.
But it explained why her anger had seemed so certain from the moment she arrived.
I opened my eyes.
“Delphine,” I said, “why did you believe him?”
Her face changed.
Not anger this time.
Shame.
“Because he knew things.”
“What things?”
“He knew Mom had left the house to me.”
I said nothing.
“He knew you had refused to discuss the estate with me.
He knew you hadn’t spoken to me since Christmas.”
She looked down at her phone.
“He told me you were using your position to punish me.”
“I never mentioned your business to anyone at work.”
“I know.”
“You could have called me.”
She laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“You never answer when I call.”
“That isn’t true.”
“It is when you think the conversation will be difficult.”
The words struck more deeply than I wanted them to.
Because they were not entirely false.
Bell stepped back, giving us a little space while remaining close enough to hear.
Delphine looked at me across the wet recovery table.
“I thought you had come to ruin the one thing I built,” she said.
“I came to inspect a pier.”
“I know that now.”
“And you still threw my bag.”
Her eyes filled, but she did not look away.
