I had not entered the base until after eight.
Reed watched me read it. "Your father says he wrote a statement yesterday at Brandon's request and signed a revised version this morning. The time may refer to the earlier draft. We will establish that."
There was more beneath the signature: Dad attested that the audio attachment was a genuine recording of me explaining my reason for the inspection.
I read that line twice. At home, Dad had dismissed every promotion I brought him. Here, he had certified my voice without asking me a single question.
"He knew the audio before this morning," I said.
"That's what his statement says."
Brandon's legal officer reviewed the page. Brandon watched him, his face rigid.
Reed set the sleeve on the table. "Your father is not coming aboard. If he has relevant information, investigators can take it at the visitor station."
"He's my father, too," I said. My voice sounded flatter than I intended. "I understand why he came."
Reed did not try to comfort me. "Understanding it won't make his statement accurate."
Brandon gave a bitter little smile. "There it is. You never did like it when Dad believed me."
I looked at him. "He signed a statement saying he heard a conversation that hadn't happened."
"He believes I was worried about you coming here."
"Did you tell him why you were worried?"
His legal officer shifted in his chair. Brandon said nothing.
I had wanted an answer from him for so many years that the urge felt physical. I wanted him to say why my uniform had made him laugh, why it had been easy to put his hand on my shoulder in front of sailors who had to serve with him afterward. But Ellis's crossed-out entry sat between us. Whatever Brandon thought of me, that valve needed repair.
"Admiral Reed," I said, "I should step out of the inspection decisions concerning Brandon."
Brandon looked up sharply, as if I had finally given him what he wanted.
Reed shook his head. "You remain the senior officer assigned to this inspection. We can separate your family relationship from the technical findings."
"My name is in the complaint, and my father has signed a statement against me. If I make the final findings on Brandon's records, he will call them retaliation. Ellis and the engineering team deserve a result nobody can dismiss on that ground."
Reed considered it. "I can assign the maintenance review to an independent team and have you remain available for questions."
"Do that."
Brandon's smile widened. "So I'm right. You shouldn't have been sent."
"No," Reed said. "The ship still has to pass inspection. You raised a question about who should make the final judgment, and we're answering it."
That distinction seemed to pass Brandon by. He looked at me with a flicker of his old confidence. In our family, if he could get me to leave the room, he usually won.
Reed called for another officer to oversee the engineering review. Marcus handed over the log and drive with their recorded custody details. I stayed long enough to give an account of the gangway incident and identify the original briefing from which my words had been taken. After that, I went ashore.
The pier had changed in the two hours since I arrived. The sun had burned the haze away. The gangway rail felt warm beneath my hand, and the smell of diesel was stronger beside the hull. A sailor at the foot of the gangway came to attention. I acknowledged him and kept walking.
Dad stood beyond the visitor barrier, exactly where I had pictured him, brown jacket zipped to his throat despite the heat. He saw me and started forward. A security officer asked him to stay behind the line.
"Sarah," he called. "What is going on up there?"
I stopped a few feet away. "The ship is being inspected."
"Brandon said you had him locked in an office."
