The Midnight Recording: How a Pentagon Signal Officer Used His Wife's Own Voice to Cover Up a $185,000 Treason Scheme
👉 Previous Choice: You chose Option A – Instantly bolt out of the front door into the rain without looking back.
Evelyn dropped the telephone receiver. It clattered against the wall, its voice cut short. The faint scraping sound from under her bed still echoed in her ears. Panic tightened her chest.
She didn’t look back. She didn’t grab the flashlight or Julian’s .38 from the nightstand.
Her slippers slapped on the hardwood as she bolted down the stairs, adrenaline surging. The front door was a blur. She yanked it open and sprinted into the cold October rain, the gravel tearing at her bare feet.
The wet asphalt glistened under the distant streetlights. She ran, soaked to the bone, until the sharp stitch in her side forced her to slow. Four blocks away, a payphone booth stood like a sentinel, its light a dim beacon against the stormy night.
Her fingers fumbled with the coins. She dialed Arthur’s direct desk line at the Pentagon, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The static crackled, then a clipped voice answered.
“Pentagon Signal Corps, duty officer speaking.”
“Major Hallowell,” Evelyn stammered, shivering. “Is he there?”
“Major Hallowell signed out three hours ago, ma’am,” the officer replied, his voice flat. “Personal leave.”
The words hit her like a physical blow. Arthur wasn’t on emergency duty. He was gone. The house felt miles away, a dark maw waiting to swallow her.
Desperate, she hung up and huddled in the nearest all-night diner, the smell of stale coffee and frying bacon doing little to calm her shaking hands. She watched the rain streak down the window, convinced that an assassin was still waiting in her bedroom, crouching under her bed.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 3 to continue the story.
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