“Captain Samuel Price.”
The name hung over the conference room.
I stared at the security image. The man beside Martin looked older than the photograph Angela had found, but there was no mistaking him.
The pilot who had supposedly tried to document Flight 608 was now leaving a records facility with Martin Vale.
Richard looked stunned.
“That makes no sense.”
Angela zoomed in.
“There’s no question. That's Price.”
Lisa was still connected.
“Lisa?”
“Yes?”
“Look at the photograph.”
Angela sent it.
A few seconds passed.
Then Lisa gasped.
“That’s Captain Price.”
“Why would he be with Martin?” Richard asked.
“I don't know.”
Her voice became quieter.
“But there’s something I never told you.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“Of course there is.”
Lisa ignored him.
“After Flight 608, Price was terrified.”
“Of Martin?”
“I thought so.”
“What did he say?”
“Almost nothing. But two weeks after the flight, he asked me whether I had kept any notes.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I had.”
“What happened?”
“He told me to destroy them.”
Angela leaned toward the speaker.
“He told you to destroy evidence?”
“He said keeping anything could end my career.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Richard looked at the security photograph again.
“That's the report you kept?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly Captain Price seemed less simple than I had imagined.
He might have been frightened.
He might have been compromised.
Or he might have been playing a longer game.
Angela's phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
“Lock down every exit.”
Richard stood.
“What happened?”
“Martin and Price left the records facility fourteen minutes ago.”
“In the Vale Aero car?”
“Yes.”
“Track it.”
“They're tracking it.”
“Where?”
Angela listened.
“Northwest.”
Richard's eyes narrowed.
“Toward Wisconsin?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“Captain Price lives in Milwaukee.”
“Exactly.”
Angela opened the inventory of the archive box.
It contained files connected to Flight 608, Elena Ruiz, Captain Price, and Jamal Washington.
I stared at the last name.
“Why would Jamal's file be in the same box?”
Angela searched the dates.
Jamal's complaint had occurred two years after Flight 608.
Different route.
Different flight.
But the same crew name appeared.
Brenda Marshall.
And David Keller had been the duty executive.
I felt a chill.
Angela opened Jamal's complaint.
He had been removed before departure for allegedly threatening another passenger.
His complaint said someone had shoved him during an argument.
There was supposed to be gate-camera footage.
It was gone.
“Who deleted it?” Richard asked.
Angela opened the audit history.
Martin Vale.
Again.
Then she checked the contracts around the same week.
Three days after Jamal's removal, Vale Aero received a five-year ground-services extension worth $186 million.
The approval signatures belonged to Martin Vale and David Keller.
Richard stared at the figures.
“This wasn't just about Nathan.”
I looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe passenger incidents were being used as leverage.”
Angela slowly nodded.
“Contracts. Favors. Settlements. If Martin made problems disappear for people, those people owed him.”
The possibility made my stomach turn.
This wasn't one man protecting his son.
It could have been an entire network protecting itself.
My phone buzzed.
Carla had sent another message.
ASK ABOUT THE RED BOOK.
I frowned.
“What red book?”
Her answer came immediately.
KELLER USED TO KEEP ONE LOCKED IN HIS OFFICE.
I asked why it mattered.
The response came seconds later.
BRENDA ONCE SAID, “IF THE RED BOOK EVER GETS OUT, HALF THE EXECUTIVE FLOOR IS FINISHED.”
Richard looked toward Angela.
“Did Keller take anything when he disappeared?”
She called headquarters.
After a brief conversation, she returned.
“His office was searched.”
“And?”
“No red book.”
Richard looked toward the photograph of Martin carrying the archive box.
“Maybe Keller gave it to Martin.”
Angela shook her head.
“Keller disappeared before Martin entered the records facility.”
“Unless they coordinated.”
Before we could explore that, a security update arrived.
The Vale sedan had been found abandoned near a highway rest area.
No Martin.
No Price.
No archive box.
Seven minutes after the sedan was abandoned, another vehicle had arrived.
A dark SUV.
Two men stepped out.
Angela enlarged the image.
The second man was David Keller.
Richard stared.
“Keller.”
The three men had been together.
Martin.
Keller.
Price.
And they had been moving evidence.
Then Lisa spoke through the phone.
“There’s one place they might go.”
Richard leaned closer.
“Where?”
“Vale Aero had a private maintenance property near Lake Geneva.”
Angela searched.
The property still belonged to a Vale-controlled holding company.
It had been publicly closed years earlier.
But another record appeared.
A fire-damage claim.
The fire had destroyed a records-storage building.
Three months after Elena Ruiz legally changed her name.
Richard stared at the screen.
“What was destroyed?”
“Paper files.”
“Cause?”
“Electrical.”
He gave a humorless smile.
“Convenient.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man whispered, “Maya Brooks?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Samuel Price.”
Every person in the room froze.
“You're Captain Price?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the security photograph.
“Where are you?”
He ignored the question.
“You've been talking to Lisa Monroe.”
“Yes.”
“And Carla Jimenez.”
“Yes.”
His breathing became uneven.
“You need to stop.”
Richard silently shook his head.
I asked, “Were you with Martin Vale?”
Silence.
“Captain?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he has something I need.”
“What?”
“My original Flight 608 cockpit log.”
Richard's eyes widened.
“Why does he have it?”
“Because he took it six years ago.”
“Why are you helping him now?”
“I'm not helping him.”
“You were photographed leaving with him.”
“I needed him to trust me.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't say.”
“Then why call me?”
“Because if something happens, somebody needs to know where the real evidence is.”
Richard grabbed a notepad.
“What evidence?”
“The red book.”
I asked what it was.
“It isn't really a book.”
Angela leaned closer.
“What is it?”
“An encrypted drive inside a red leather notebook.”
“What is on it?”
“Passenger incidents.”
“How many?”
“All the ones they buried.”
My skin prickled.
“Flight 608?”
“Yes.”
“Jamal Washington?”
“Yes.”
“And my incident?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because yours happened today.”
He paused.
“But it would have ended up there.”
Richard asked who created the drive.
“David Keller.”
That explained the alliance.
Martin had the notebook.
Keller had the password.
Price had the backup key.
“What do you have?” I asked.
“The one thing both of them need.”
“What?”
“The backup key.”
Silence.
“Where is the master backup?”
“Under the old Vale Aero hangar.”
The Lake Geneva property.
My pulse accelerated.
“Is that where you're going?”
He didn't answer.
Then I heard a door.
Voices.
Price whispered, “They're coming.”
“Captain, stay on the line.”
“I can't.”
“Text me where you are.”
Silence.
Then he whispered, “Maya, there's something else.”
“What?”
“Flight 608 wasn't the first time Nathan Vale hurt someone.”
My entire body went cold.
“There were three others.”
“Passengers?”
“Yes.”
“Did they complain?”
“Two did.”
“And the third?”
A pause.
“She never got the chance.”
Before I could ask what that meant, a man's voice sounded nearby.
“Samuel?”
Price whispered, “I have to go.”
“Wait.”
“Maya?”
“Yes?”
“If they get the red book open before you find us, they'll destroy everything.”
Then he said one final thing.
“Look under Flight 441.”
The line went dead.
Angela searched the flight number.
Lisa immediately gave us the date.
The passenger manifest appeared.
Passenger 1C: Nathan Vale.
Passenger 1D: Sarah Donovan.
Beside Sarah's name was an unusual notation: no-show on return segment.
She had flown outbound.
She never came home.
Angela searched public records.
Sarah Donovan, twenty-nine.
Reported missing eleven days after Flight 441.
Last confirmed sighting at the destination airport.
Richard looked pale.
“Was Nathan questioned?”
“No record.”
Lisa suddenly whispered, “Oh no.”
“What?”
“I remember this flight.”
She confirmed Brenda had worked it.
Captain Price had been the pilot.
Carla had been cabin supervisor.
Carla was still listening.
“Carla?”
Silence.
“Carla?”
Her breathing quickened.
Finally she whispered, “I was hoping you'd never find that flight.”
Richard's voice hardened.
“Why?”
“Because Sarah Donovan is why I kept everything.”
“What happened to her?”
“I don't know.”
“Then what do you know?”
“I know she left the plane with Nathan Vale.”
“Willingly?”
“I thought so.”
“You thought?”
“She looked frightened.”
Captain Price had reported that Nathan threatened her.
But David Keller deleted the report before police received it.
Then Price sent a location pin.
It led to the Vale property.
A photograph followed.
A dark concrete room.
A red leather notebook on a metal table.
Beside it was a file labeled:
SARAH DONOVAN — FLIGHT 441.
Then one final message appeared.
HE KNOWS I CALLED YOU.
I stared at the screen.
Richard was already standing.
“Angela, call law enforcement.”
She reached for her phone.
“No corporate security,” Richard said.
“Agreed.”
Carla's voice trembled.
“You cannot go there.”
“We're not going,” Richard told her. “Police are.”
Twenty minutes later, authorities were on their way.
Then Price called again.
His voice sounded weaker.
“They found the backup key.”
“How?”
“I had it in my jacket.”
“Where are you?”
“Storage room.”
“At the Vale property?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hurt?”
“My head.”
“What happened?”
“Keller hit me.”
Richard's jaw tightened.
Price said Martin and Keller were trying to open the archive.
Once they opened it, they could begin deleting.
The archive wasn't merely a drive.
There was a server underneath the hangar.
Years of passenger cases.
Internal investigations.
Settlement payments.
Security footage.
Emails.
Executive favors.
Keller had apparently collected proof not simply for protection, but to control the people who depended on him.
“Blackmail?” I asked.
“Insurance first,” Price said. “Blackmail later.”
Then I asked about Sarah.
Price admitted he had watched Nathan leave the aircraft with her.
At first, he believed she wanted to go.
Then she looked back.
She was terrified.
He had tried to intervene.
Brenda told him Sarah was Nathan's girlfriend.
She wasn't.
Later, police called about Sarah's disappearance.
Price told them about the incident.
Keller called him fifteen minutes later and threatened his pension, license, and career.
Price stopped talking.
But he started making copies.
Flight 441 became the beginning.
Then Price suddenly stopped.
“They're back.”
Footsteps.
David Keller's voice.
“Where is the phone?”
Then Martin.
“You've made this unnecessarily difficult.”
Price said it was over.
Martin laughed.
“No. It becomes over when I decide it’s over.”
A loud impact sounded through the phone.
Price groaned.
I shouted his name.
The line went quiet.
Then Martin spoke directly to me.
“Ms. Brooks.”
My entire body froze.
He knew I was there.
He told me I had created trouble for someone who only wanted to fly home.
I told him he had created the trouble.
He said he had solved problems.
I said he had buried them.
For a moment, silence.
Then Martin tried to turn me against Richard.
“Ask him why he chose Flight 247.”
I looked at Richard.
He admitted he had received an anonymous tip three days earlier warning him that Brenda would be working my flight.
He had boarded quietly to observe her.
He hadn't expected police to be called.
I felt betrayed.
“You knew she would be there?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
“No.”
“You watched me while I thought I might be arrested.”
Richard lowered his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Martin sounded pleased.
But I asked the question that stopped him.
“Who sent Richard the tip?”
Silence.
Then Keller shouted in the background, “Martin, stop talking.”
Richard's expression changed.
“David sent it.”
Everything clicked.
Keller had been leaking information.
He wanted Martin exposed.
He had placed Richard on Flight 247 because he knew Richard would investigate after witnessing Brenda's behavior.
My incident had been the opening Keller needed.
Then Angela's phone buzzed.
Law enforcement had arrived at the Vale property.
Richard motioned for me to keep Martin talking.
I asked what he intended to do with the red book.
Martin refused to answer.
Then shouting erupted through the phone.
“Sheriff's department!”
A crash.
Commands.
Another sharp sound.
The line remained open.
Then an officer answered.
He confirmed that Samuel Price was alive.
Martin Vale and David Keller had been detained.
But there was another person at the property.
They recovered the server.
They recovered the red book.
They recovered Keller's backup key.
Then the officer mentioned a storage room containing personal belongings.
Shoes.
Handbags.
Phones.
Identification documents.
Items labeled with dates and flight numbers.
Among them was Sarah Donovan's identification.
The room fell silent.
Then investigators found evidence connected to several other women.
At least six.
All passengers.
All associated with flights where Nathan Vale appeared on the manifest.
But Nathan was gone.
Angela searched travel records.
A private jet had departed Chicago Executive Airport less than an hour earlier.
Passenger manifest:
NATHAN VALE.
Destination:
Cayman Islands.
Then a new message arrived.
The aircraft had changed course.
It was heading west.
Toward Wyoming.
Toward the same private airfield connected to Sarah Donovan's disappearance.
Richard stared at the screen.
“He's going back.”
I looked at Keller's message.
FOLLOW THE PLANE.
And for the first time, I understood that Nathan wasn't merely escaping.
He was returning for something he believed could still save him.
Click Here to continue read next: PART7: The Red Notebook Held Years of Buried Passenger Cases, but the One File Nathan Wanted Most Was Connected to a Woman Everyone Believed Had Vanished Forever
I Thought the Hardest Part of My Flight Would Be Getting Home Until the Flight Attendant Decided My Seat Wasn’t Really Mine
Part 6 of 16
