Chapter 3 - The Ghost from the PastWhile NCIS investigators meticulously tore apart Richard Lawson’s rented sedan outside Gate Four, Richard himself sat in a cold, stainless-steel holding cell at the base security headquarters.
He didn't look like the towering, terrifying tyrant who had ruled Ava’s childhood home with an iron fist and a belt buckle. Stripped of his tailored jacket, tie, and expensive watch, Richard looked small, sweaty, and profoundly confused. He kept pacing the narrow concrete perimeter of the cell, muttering furiously under his breath about corrupt military courts and ungrateful children.
The heavy steel door clanked open, and Special Agent Marcus Brody of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service stepped inside, followed closely by a local civilian detective who looked thoroughly out of his depth.
“Mr. Lawson,” Brody said smoothly, dropping a clear plastic evidence bag onto the metal table in the center of the room. Inside the bag lay a heavy, professional-grade roll of industrial zip-ties, a pair of surgical gloves, and a sleek, loaded 9mm Sig Sauer pistol with the serial numbers partially filed down.
Richard stopped pacing. His eyes darted to the table, then up to Brody’s stone-cold face.
“I demand to make a phone call,” Richard barked, puffing out his chest. “You have no right holding me here! This is a domestic dispute between a father and his rebellious stepdaughter. I’m a respected businessman in Richmond; my lawyer is going to strip this base down to the studs!”
Brody slowly pulled out a metal chair, sat down, and folded his hands on the table. He didn't blink.
“Mr. Lawson, let’s clear up a massive misconception you’re currently laboring under,” Brody said, his voice deceptively calm. “You aren't in a local municipal jail. You are sitting in a federal maximum-security detention block on active United States Navy property. Furthermore, your stepdaughter is a commissioned officer in Her Majesty’s—err, excuse me—the United States Navy’s elite cyber-defense and logistics division. Breaking into her home with a loaded firearm, zip-ties, and surgical gloves doesn't constitute a ‘domestic dispute.’”
Richard’s face paled noticeably. “I... I didn't know she lived on a military base. The leasing office—it looked like civilian apartments—”
“Ignorance of federal jurisdiction is not a legal defense, Richard,” Brody interrupted, using his first name with calculated disrespect. “In fact, under federal statute 18 U.S.C. Section 111, assaulting, resisting, or impeding certain federal officers or employees carries a sentence of up to twenty years. Add kidnapping conspiracy, interstate stalking, and possession of an unregistered firearm with altered serial numbers?”
Brody leaned forward, locking eyes with the crumbling tyrant. “You’re looking at spending the rest of your natural life in a federal penitentiary where nobody cares about your business in Richmond.”
“She’s lying!” Richard suddenly shouted, slamming his palms onto the metal table, rattling the evidence bag. “She’s always been a liar! She ruined my marriage, she poisoned her mother against me, and she staged this entire thing to ruin my reputation! Look at her record—she’s just a fragile little girl playing soldier!”
The heavy security door swung open again. This time, it wasn't an investigator who walked in.
It was Ava.
May you like
She wore her crisp dress uniform, the ribbons gleaming proudly across her chest. Her left arm was still supported by a black tactical sling, but she stood tall, her shoulders back, her eyes completely devoid of the fear that had haunted her for three agonizing years.
Richard froze, his jaw dropping as he stared at the woman standing before him.
