Chapter 12 - The Price of AngerOn New Year's Day, James received a call from his military command.
A public-affairs officer had been contacted by a journalist seeking comment on allegations involving the major's family and a disputed commercial transaction.
James explained the situation to his commanding officer, Colonel Rebecca Stanton, during a private call.
“I need you to be transparent about anything that affects your responsibilities,” she told him. “Civilian investigators handle the criminal case, and your private attorney handles the business dispute.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Are you being investigated for misconduct?”
“Not that I'm aware of.”
“Then don't let anyone convince you that asking for lawful help is dishonorable.”
James sat at the hotel desk.
“Understood.”
Stanton paused.
“James, I've read the initial report about your son.”
His throat tightened.
“Ma'am.”
“Take the leave you've been authorized. Look after your family.”
For a moment, he could not answer.
“Thank you.”
After the call, he found an email forwarded from Nathan's attorneys.
The attachment contained a photograph taken on Christmas Eve.
It showed James standing near the broken shed door, face contorted with fury, one hand clenched.
Oliver was partially visible beside him.
The accompanying letter suggested that James's aggressive behavior had created an unsafe environment and raised questions about his judgment.
James felt rage surge through him.
He grabbed his coat.
Sarah appeared in the doorway.
“Where are you going?”
“To see Nathan.”
“James—”
“He's using Oliver against me.”
Sarah stepped in front of him.
“Then don't give him more ammunition.”
He stopped.
She pointed toward the photograph.
“That's what he wants. He wants you angry. He wants everyone looking at you instead of the door.”
James stared at her.
For one painful second, he hated that she was right.
He sank into the chair.
“I nearly hit him on Christmas Eve.”
Sarah sat beside him.
“I know.”
“I wanted to.”
“I know.”
James pressed his palms against his eyes.
“He locked our boy inside a shed, Sarah.”
“We don't yet know every part Nathan played.”
James looked up sharply.
“Are you still defending him?”
“No.”
“Then stop making excuses.”
Sarah recoiled.
James immediately regretted the words.
But he could not bring himself to apologize.
Not yet.
That afternoon, Detective Reyes called with new information.
The security contractor had preserved logs showing the rear recording zone had been disabled at 6:12 p.m. on Christmas Eve.
The action came through an administrator account assigned to Nathan.
Nathan's attorneys argued that several family members and staff had access to his office and credentials.
The logs did not identify who physically used the device.
Reyes was seeking additional records.
“We also interviewed several guests,” she said.
“Did anyone see Brooke?”
“Yes. Two guests recalled her coming in from the garden shortly before seven. One described her as visibly upset.”
James closed his eyes.
“Is that enough to arrest her?”
“We need the evidence to meet the legal standard, and the prosecutor will review it.”
James felt helpless.
In combat, uncertainty had been familiar.
But there had usually been a mission.
Now the mission was protecting a child from people who shared his blood.
Later, Sarah left to meet her own attorney.
She had decided that she needed independent legal advice about the business documents she had signed.
James supported the decision, even though he feared what it meant.
While she was gone, he took Oliver and Scout to a nearby park.
Snow covered the ground.
Oliver threw a stick.
Scout bounded after it.
For a while, James watched his son laughing.
Then Oliver stopped.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you mad at Mom?”
James considered his answer.
“I'm upset about some things.”
“Because she didn't find me?”
James knelt.
“Oliver, what happened was not your fault.”
“I know.”
James waited.
Oliver looked toward the trees.
“Mom used to say Uncle Nathan was helping us.”
“Helping us how?”
Oliver shrugged.
“She said he was making sure we'd have enough money.”
James frowned.
“When did she say that?”
“Before you came home.”
He thought about Sarah's silence.
Her strange responses.
Her meeting with an attorney.
Something financial had been happening around his wife, too.
That evening, James returned to the hotel and found Sarah sitting at the table.
An envelope lay before her.
She looked as though she had been crying for hours.
“I need to tell you something,” she said.
James sat.
Sarah pushed the envelope toward him.
Inside was a bank statement.
A deposit had been made into her personal business account in October.
The amount was one hundred twenty thousand dollars.
The sender was Hartwell Development Holdings.
James stared at the figure.
Then he looked at his wife.
“Sarah.”
Her voice broke.
“I didn't steal it.”
He felt his chest tighten.
“Then tell me what you did.”
May you like
Sarah closed her eyes.
“I signed a report Nathan needed for the Bellwether sale.”
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