Her private camera had been a response to helplessness more than a plan to gather evidence. A discount electronics store offered a battery-backed security unit with local storage and scheduled cloud synchronization. Leah paid for it with cash, mounted it in the stockroom window behind a stack of supplies, and pointed it toward the diesel island. She kept the device out of the station's official security network because Voss always seemed to know when somebody had accessed the normal recordings. At the end of each week, she copied the important clips to a portable drive and took it home.
For three months the camera recorded tanker arrivals, visits by Voss, and a uniformed man she eventually recognized as Shaw. It never captured everything. Trucks blocked the line of sight. Rain blurred the windows. Some nights produced only shadows and tail lights. But there were enough clear moments for Leah to understand that the late-night activity was organized, not accidental. Each time she prepared to show someone, she thought of the cruiser outside her apartment and put the drive away again.
Now a federal investigator stood outside beside a four-star general, and the two officers Leah feared were desperate to keep the door closed. She reached beneath the counter, took out the phone she used for family, and called Sophie.
Her daughter answered on the second ring. "Mom? Aren't you working?"
"I'm fine, sweetheart. I just wanted to hear your voice."
"You sound weird."
Leah looked toward the glass. Shaw had positioned himself beside the office entrance while another officer stood near the recording cabinet.
"Listen carefully," she said. "If anybody from work or the police comes to the house today, don't open the door. Call Aunt Rachel first, then call me."
Sophie was quiet. "Is this about those trucks?"
Leah closed her eyes. She had wanted to keep the danger from reaching her daughter. The danger had reached her months ago.
"It's about me finally doing what I should have done earlier," she said. "I'll explain tonight. I love you."
"I love you too."
After the call, Leah took the small camera from its hiding place and set it behind the counter, just out of sight. Her hands trembled so badly she nearly dropped it. She was still frightened, but the decision had been made.
Danielle entered the store at 9:02 a.m. She had explained to Shaw that she would speak with the station manager in the publicly accessible retail area, and he had no defensible reason to prevent a voluntary conversation. Officer Keene remained near the entrance, documenting who entered and left. Thorne stood outside discussing the inspection permissions with the Army's legal representative. Danielle kept her own phone recording administrative observations as she approached Leah.
"Good morning, Ms. Grant," she said. "I'm Danielle Cross. We spoke on the phone earlier this week."
Leah looked up slowly. Her face was pale and drawn, but her eyes had lost some of the frightened distance Danielle remembered from their call.