By the early afternoon, Addy was beginning to ask questions Savannah wasn’t sure how to answer. They had moved to the basement and Captain Marvel played on the TV in the background while they sipped homemade hot chocolate and ate kettle corn from a Pinterest recipe. A space heater whirred in the corner, but each of them had cuddled in a fuzzy blanket in cool pastels. A few drops of chocolate had slipped from Addy’s mug to the couch, but Savannah didn’t care. Not with everything that was spinning through their lives.
The girl pulled her knees up and placed her feet on the narrow coffee table before readjusting her blanket. Savannah watched her out of the corner of her eye and braced for the silence to be broken. She held the remote under the blanket to turn down the volume or stop the movie in an instant.
“Can we have the funeral this week?” The teen hiccupped at the end of the words as if barely holding back tears.
“I don’t think so, but I can check.” She made a mental note to call the police to get an idea of when Dustin’s body would be released. “We could have a memorial service though. Maybe as early as Monday.”
“Do you think anyone will come?” The words were so quiet, Savannah almost missed them.
“Why would you say that?”
“People will believe he was evil based on what the newspaper said about him and how he died. What if he killed himself because of the article?”
“That’s a hard what-if.” Savannah considered how to answer the question in a way that honored the asking and yet helped Addy feel safe. “You have to understand, we may never learn exactly what happened.”
“I need to know.”
“Me too, kiddo.” Savannah stroked her niece’s hair and then began weaving it into a long braid that would hang down her back, sweet blonde strands curling around her face. “We’ll do the best we can to find answers.”
“Maybe they’re in his apartment.”
“I don’t know.” How could she convince the teen that there might not be answers, at least not any that would satisfy her? “We can look as soon as the police let us in.”
Addy wrapped her arms around her middle as if she’d become suddenly cold or ill. “I can’t go back.”
Savannah nodded and tugged the girl closer. “You don’t have to. That’s something I can do for you.” While she was there maybe she could find whatever proof Dustin thought he had.
They stayed huddled under blankets, quiet, and Savannah wondered if she should push or let the silence continue. Her phone dinged and she grimaced when she saw the number. Emilie. “I have to take this, Addy.”
The girl barely nodded as she leaned her head back against the couch and watched a scene on some spaceship somewhere. Captain Marvel was running back to get her shoes. Savannah slipped upstairs and answered the call. “How’s it going?”
“Definitely better than your day. I’m so sorry about Dustin.” Emilie’s voice was husky with genuine empathy. She knew what it was like to lose people you cared about to violence. “I hate to ask, but we need you.” She sighed. “I’m trying to understand what this Mnemosyne technology does, but they keep giving me the PhD version when I need something closer to middle school. We need to frame what we give the FBI.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
“I’m not. I just recognize my strengths. If I understood and loved science, I would have specialized in patent law.”
“Addy’s still with me.”
Emilie must have sensed her hesitation. “It’s your firm.” There was a smile in her voice. “I think you can bring your niece to work. She’ll be safe, and you can help me salvage the subpoena production.”
Addy wanted to go home and sleep, so thirty minutes later Savannah dropped Addy at her apartment only to discover Stasi wasn’t home. She didn’t like leaving Addy, but the girl insisted she would be fine.
“I’ll call if I need anything.”
So Savannah texted Stasi that Addy was home and then drove to the office. She didn’t like the subdued air when she walked in the conference room.
John and Rochelle looked like they hadn’t slept. John’s hair stuck out in all directions, while Rochelle had circles under her eyes that makeup couldn’t hide. Sad thing was Savannah knew she didn’t look any better. “Looks like we’re the walking wounded.”
John startled and refocused as he looked at her. “Where have you been?”
“Helping her niece, John. Emilie told us first thing this morning, and if you subscribed to news alerts, you would have known even earlier.”
“Why should I when I have you, Rochelle.” He waggled his eyebrows at her in a Groucho Marx impersonation.
The woman didn’t crack a smile. Instead she gave Savannah an apologetic frown. “Here’s where we are.”
It only took a few minutes to unwind what had gotten tangled. Savannah found herself translating their explanations of the technology as Emilie took rapid-fire notes. While she wasn’t a scientist, she played one in a courtroom, a skill that helped her now. “Let’s look for the information that is related directly to the testing of the device.”
“Only? Didn’t you say yesterday the FBI wanted everything?” John threw his hands in the air. “There has to be some way to protect our data. Without it—”
“We’re done.” Rochelle sank back against the padded executive chair. “The bigger problem is how our code got on that plane. I was up all night and can’t divine the answer.”
John crossed his arms but didn’t add anything as the silence lingered.
“Do we have a corporate spy inside our company? That seems crazy, but it’s about all I’ve got. We talked with our team about the judge’s order. That alone was reason to ground the project. But we also had indications it wasn’t ready to test on commercial aircraft.” Rochelle rubbed the back of her neck as she watched John. Was that suspicion in her gaze?
That was new information. “Why not?” Savannah asked.
John shrugged but kept his gaze on the table. “We may never know. Don’t we need to finish this?”
Savannah turned to Emilie. “Why don’t you draft the response? Emphasize our concerns regarding the security of the technology in this situation and that it must be protected from FOIA requests.”
“I can do that.”
“John, Rochelle, and I will continue working through the documents to determine which we can give to the FBI without negative impact.” While they did that, she’d keep probing for how the tech got on the plane. Someone knew, and if it was one of these two, she needed to find out.
They all got to work. After thirty minutes, Savannah stepped out to text Addy.
When Savannah reentered the conference room, Rochelle was on the phone.
“What do you mean?” Rochelle’s face blanched. “You can’t be serious.”
In the silence that ensued, the woman mimed writing in the air. Savannah slid a pad of paper and pen across the conference table toward Rochelle. The woman frantically filled a page with notes, then paused.
“Can you say that again?” Her brow wrinkled as she started to write, then lifted her pen off the paper. “That doesn’t make sense.” She slid the notes toward John and he scanned them.
He shook his head. “That’s not possible. Something is wrong with their data.”
“Hold on a second.” Rochelle put her hand over the mouthpiece. “That was a friend who works at NTSB. He said the Coast Guard found Flight 2840’s black box earlier this morning. This is what’s coming off it.”
John twisted his flop of hair, then stroked his goatee. “No. There’s an anomaly somewhere. We need to get to the office and analyze the actual data.”
“He says the FBI is only one of a constellation of agencies that will want to talk to us.”
“We’ve got nothing to hide.” His words were right, but Savannah thought she noted a hesitation. “I mean, we’re responding to the subpoena.”
Rochelle rubbed her hands over her face in a sweeping heart motion. “But what if we missed something? We’ve spent so much time looking at it this week, but I’m just not sure.”
Emilie pulled a stack of paper from the side. “This is what we have ready to go to the FBI. We’ve been through it carefully and are fully cooperating or explaining why we feel something can’t be shared in a way that can be captured through a FOIA request.”
“Be careful.” Savannah gestured to the phone. “You don’t want to say anything that could be misconstrued as an admission of guilt.”
Rochelle shuddered. “That’s scary.”
“Scary?” Savannah frowned as she tried to read Rochelle’s notes upside down. “Let’s talk after the call.” She had to protect her clients from potentially incriminating themselves.
Rochelle turned back to the phone. “Thanks for letting me know. I need to look into this.” Then she set the phone on the table.
“All right. Time to explain what just happened.” Savannah got her pen ready.
Rochelle exchanged a glance with John but quickly broke eye contact. “John’s right. We need to get to the office and start running scenarios. There must be something they’ve missed.”
Savannah held up a hand. “Wait a minute. I’m your attorney, and you need to fill me in. Right now. If the information you just received impacts what we’re ready to tell the FBI, Emilie and I need to know. Now.”
John looked at Rochelle as if seeking her permission to continue. She tipped her chin an inch, and he sighed. “One of the engineers thought there could be a problem. He’s wrong, but he got Rochelle on his side.”
Rochelle nodded. “He found a glitch where the program would randomly power cycle. Similar to what they think happened with the 737 MAX.”
“Make this understandable for a layperson.”
“If a sensor took in bad information, the code cycled up, sucking energy from other flight systems.”
“It was just theory, never proven,” John jumped in.
Rochelle frowned at him. “Until we could figure out the true cause of the power cycle, we agreed to delay testing. The injunction was just coincidental, but it reinforced our decision.”
Savannah was starting to understand. “But now you think your code was on Flight 2840.”
Rochelle nodded.
Savannah’s stomach dropped. “Okay. So what’s the worst that could happen if it cycled while on a flight? Would it cause a crash?”
John shook his head. “We aren’t sure . . .”
Savannah’s phone rang, and she swiveled from the table to take it. “Addy? You okay?”
“The police are here and want to call something called Child Protective Services.”