THE EVIDENCE PLANTED IN HER HOUSE
Aaliyah stepped aside.
“Search it.”
Miriam watched her.
“You understand you can refuse until we obtain a warrant.”
“Do you have one?”
“Yes.”
“Then search it properly.”
The agents photographed every room before touching anything.
They collected Aaliyah’s laptop from the desk.
The sabotage instructions appeared in a hidden encrypted folder.
Engine diagrams.
Fuel-control specifications.
A schedule of Adrian Vale’s flight.
A draft message:
Trent will take the blame if anything goes wrong.
Aaliyah read the text over Miriam’s shoulder.
“It was planted.”
Miriam did not argue.
She asked:
“Who had access to this apartment?”
“My mother has a spare key. My brother. Building management.”
“Any coworkers?”
Aaliyah thought.
“Trent came once.”
“When?”
“Two months ago. He said he was delivering updated insurance forms after I injured my wrist.”
Miriam wrote it down.
Aaliyah’s wrist injury had kept her off high-level engine work for six days.
During that period, Trent had accessed her laptop under the excuse of helping submit a medical leave form.
She had resented the intrusion but accepted it.
Now she understood.
Preparation had begun months earlier.
Forensic analysis found the encrypted folder created remotely the night before the flight.
The source used Vale Systems security architecture.
Only corporate cybersecurity staff had access.
Charles Whitmore could authorize it.
Adrian could too.
The case widened.
Adrian asked to meet Aaliyah with counsel present.
They sat in a secure conference room at the federal aviation office.
“I need to know whether you trust me,” he said.
“No.”
He appeared surprised.
“Fair.”
Aaliyah continued.
“You built a company where your partner could duplicate employee codes, alter maintenance logs, and plant data using corporate systems.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That is not the same as not being responsible.”
Adrian accepted it.
Then he told her the acquisition target, Horizon Aviation Analytics, contained a confidential archive of aircraft-maintenance irregularities across private fleets.
The archive showed repeated falsification at Vale Aviation Services.
Trent’s hangar.
If Adrian completed the purchase, he would gain evidence connecting Trent and Charles to years of billing fraud.
Phantom inspections.
Reused parts.
False compliance reports.
The sabotage was likely designed to kill the deal.
Whether it was meant to kill Adrian remained unclear.
Aaliyah asked:
“What did Charles expect would happen if the pilot didn’t stop?”
Adrian looked away.
That was answer enough.
Then Miriam entered with new information.
The tool marks on the engine fitting did not match Trent’s personal kit.
They matched a specialized wrench assigned to Aaliyah.
Her tool locker had been sealed overnight.
The seal showed no visible damage.
But digital access logs showed the locker opened at 2:13 a.m.
Credential:
Aaliyah Brooks.
Again.
Security footage for that corridor had been deleted.
Backup footage from the fuel depot showed a person crossing the hangar wearing navy maintenance coveralls.
Same height as Aaliyah.
Same hair tied back.
Same walk.
At least from a distance.
Aaliyah watched twice.
Then paused the image.
“Not me.”
“How can you tell?” Adrian asked.
“She carries weight on her left side.”
The figure’s right shoulder sat lower.
Aaliyah knew someone with that posture.
Denise Brooks.
Her older sister.
A former Air Force mechanic.
Declared dead in a training accident nine years earlier.
Aaliyah stared at the frame.
Denise had the same height.
Same build.
Same habit of tying her hair low.
Then Miriam showed the final still.
The figure turned slightly toward the fuel-depot light.
May you like
Aaliyah saw her sister’s face.
Alive.
