Willy Arden was placed under formal restriction two days after the medical pack was recovered.
Not arrested.
Not yet.
That distinction infuriated Ju when she heard it, but Reed explained the reason plainly. A lieutenant general does not fall alone if he is part of a network. Arrest him too early, and every hidden name behind him burns files, closes accounts, and moves witnesses. Restriction kept him visible. Visible men make calls. Calls make routes. Routes reveal people.
Willy understood that too.
He played the offended patriot perfectly.
He requested a formal command review. He accused Reed of reckless discharge of a firearm in the mess hall. He described Ju as unstable, grieving, and hostile. He called the medical pack discovery “contaminated evidence.” He said Aaron had been under stress and may have misinterpreted routine contract work. He said enemies of the command were exploiting a family tragedy.
Family tragedy.
Ju hated that phrase most.
Aaron was not only Willy’s nephew when it benefited him.
He was a dead witness.
Willy’s first formal interview was recorded in a secure room with three cameras. He entered in full uniform, ribbons exact, face controlled. Reed sat across from him with no visible anger.
“Did you change the Kharan Ridge route?”
“No.”
“Did you authorize the late operational correction?”
“No.”
“Did you know Aaron Arden was investigating Glass Orchard?”
“I do not know what that phrase means.”
“Did you pour sauce over Sergeant Ju Lin’s head in the mess hall?”
Willy’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I lost control.”
That was the first lie he wanted to sound human.
Reed watched him.
“You lost control by entering a mess hall where Sergeant Lin sat alone, picking up a sauce cup, pouring it over her head, throwing her tray, kicking her chair, and accusing her of causing your nephew’s death?”
Willy’s face hardened.
“Grief is not orderly.”
“No,” Reed said. “But staging often is.”
Willy leaned back.
“You think I wanted her to attack me.”
“Yes.”
“With a fork?”
“Yes.”
“A decorated general, afraid of a fork?”
“No,” Reed said. “A compromised general, afraid of a witness.”
For the first time, Willy’s eyes changed.
Not much.
Enough.
Reed opened a folder and placed Aaron’s blood-smudged note on the table.
Willy looked at it.
Then away.
Reed said, “Aaron knew.”
Willy said nothing.
“He knew you were only gate three.”
Still nothing.
Reed leaned forward.
“Who is gate one?”
Willy’s expression returned to calm.
And that calm told Reed the answer would not come from shame.
It would have to come from pressure.