Chapter 5 - The Medal and the Chair
I nearly skipped the ceremony.
"No one would blame you," Tessa said as she helped fasten my dress uniform. "You don't owe a room full of strangers a brave face."
"It isn't for Ethan." I touched the empty space where the medal would hang. "It's for the people who didn't come home."
Two years earlier, an attack on our evacuation convoy had sent shrapnel into my shoulder. Our medic, June Parker, had stayed exposed long enough to pull a wounded interpreter behind cover. She never made it to the helicopter. I'd named my baby June before I knew whether she was a girl.
My Purple Heart paperwork had taken far too long. June's name hadn't.
At the auditorium, Ethan squeezed my arm hard enough to hurt.
"Just read the statement," he whispered. "Smile for the donors."
Margaret sat in the front row wearing pearls. Jason held up his phone, recording everything with a grin.
General Hayes approached me before we went onstage. "Agent Shah asked me to remind you that you're not alone," he said quietly.
I nodded. The charity had received funds from a foundation he'd helped oversee, and its auditors had been sharing records with investigators. Hayes didn't know every detail. He knew enough.
Then the ceremony began. My citation was read. People stood. I heard applause through the old ringing in my ears.
Hayes stepped near the podium, caught his shoe on the carpet, and staggered. I grabbed his elbow.
"Easy there, General."
Metal scraped behind me.
The next seconds tore my life in two.
The chair. My raised arm. The crack. The floor.
Hayes stood between Ethan and me while deputies moved in. Ethan shouted that I was making him look like a monster. Nobody answered him.
"We already know what you've done," Hayes said.
Ethan's gaze flicked toward my handbag beneath the front-row seat. Then he lunged for it.
May you like
Tessa got there first.
But when she opened the bag, the small drive was gone.
