No matter how much glass Garrett smashed, he couldn't destroy evidence that wasn't inside my car.
The accountant who had met with me became the next priority.
Her name was Elise Navarro.
She was a meticulous woman who had spent fifteen years working in financial administration before joining the logistics subcontractor. She wasn't an investigator, a soldier, or a professional whistleblower. She was somebody who believed invoices ought to correspond to real transactions.
When she discovered irregularities, she initially reported them through her employer's internal procedures.
Nothing happened.
Then a manager told her the discrepancies were the result of classified accounting adjustments and instructed her to stop asking questions.
She didn't believe him.
The explanation didn't fit the records.
Equipment appeared on one list as delivered, on another as scrapped, and on a third as transferred to a private contractor.
Payments continued.
And the private contractor's name appeared repeatedly.
Westbrook Recovery.
Elise began preserving records through lawful reporting channels and eventually contacted Army CID.
But the day after my traffic stop, she received a message that terrified her.
It contained a photograph of her parked car.
Below it were seven words.
You should have stayed out of this.
She called the investigative team immediately.
The threat was documented, and arrangements were made to protect her while the investigation continued.
When Thomas told me, I felt physically sick.
I'd worried that my stop could expose the fact that she had met with investigators.
Now somebody was trying to frighten her into silence.
I asked whether I could speak with her.
Thomas looked reluctant.
"You're on medical leave."
"I can make a phone call."
"Renata."
I looked directly at him.
"I need to know she's safe."
He studied me.
Then nodded.
"Through the case team. Not independently."
I agreed.
The call took place that afternoon.
Elise answered quietly.
"Special Agent Cole?"
"Yes."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, "I heard what happened."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry you were frightened."
Her voice changed.
"You're the one who was hurt."
"I know. But I also know somebody may be trying to intimidate you because you came forward."
She swallowed.
"Do they know it was me?"
"We're investigating that. What matters now is that you continue following the protection arrangements and keep communicating with the team."
She was quiet.
Then she asked, "Should I stop cooperating?"
The question hurt.
I could hear the fear behind it.
I thought carefully before answering.
"That's your decision, Elise. No one should pressure you into taking risks you don't understand."
She waited.
I continued.
"But the information you brought us matters. You deserve to have your concerns investigated professionally, and the people threatening you shouldn't get to decide whether the truth comes out."
She exhaled slowly.