My father looked almost proud despite himself.
Captain Hayes stepped closer.
“You are a plebe, not an investigator.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then stop thinking like one.”
“I can’t.”
The words came before I could soften them.
Captain Hayes stared at me.
I added, “I won’t confront anyone. I won’t act without authorization. But hiding me won’t stop this.”
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Commander Callahan’s voice came from the doorway.
“She’s right.”
I turned.
He stood just outside, expression unreadable.
Captain Hayes frowned.
“You were asked to wait.”
“I got bored.”
No one laughed.
Callahan entered and looked at me.
“Parker, how good is your memory?”
“Good, sir.”
“How good?”
I understood the question beneath the question.
“Photographic under stress, according to my father.”
My father muttered, “Not officially.”
Callahan ignored him.
He placed three photographs on the table.
Academy crowd shots from the night of the confrontation.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Captain Hayes began to object, but my mother touched her arm lightly.
“Let her look.”
I studied the first image.
Students gathered outside the event. Bradley at the center. Mason laughing. Tyler holding a phone.
Nothing obvious.
Second image.
A wider angle.
Ethan Vale near the edge.
A maintenance cart behind him.
Third image.
Different angle.
Same crowd.
Same cart.
I leaned closer.
“The cart moved.”
Callahan’s eyes sharpened.
“Good.”
I pointed.
“In the first photo, it’s near the service path. In the third, it’s closer to the side entrance.”
Hayes looked.
“And?”
“The driver isn’t the same.”
My father stepped closer.
I tapped the image.
“First driver has a tattoo on his right forearm. Second driver doesn’t. Different build too.”
Callahan nodded.
