Chapter 6 - The Wrong Kind of Help
Luke Hollis was waiting beside my car when I left the store.
He wore civilian clothes, and without the dress uniform he looked less certain of himself. His car was parked three spaces away. I noticed because he'd left enough distance that I could walk off if I wanted.
“How did you know I'd be here?” I asked.
“Peter called my uncle. My uncle called me.”
“You're supposed to be at work.”
“I'm on leave.”
Luke swallowed. “He asked me to find out whether Dunn gave you anything. He says you're trying to ruin the foundation over an old misunderstanding.”
“Did you come to spy?”
“I came because I want to know whether you lied at the ceremony.”
It was a more honest answer than I expected.
He showed me his phone. The Hollis Foundation website displayed photographs of veterans receiving modified vans, college scholarships, and prosthetic fittings. On the front page, his uncle stood smiling beneath a headline about courage at Ridge Forty-Six.
“My sister is getting her nursing degree through that foundation,” Luke said. “You destroy his reputation, donors leave. People who need help get hurt.”
I thought of June's school fees and the years I'd done paperwork at midnight because an injured veteran's needs didn't stop when an office closed.
“Those people deserve the help,” I said. “They don't deserve a story that uses Mason as the villain.”
Luke stepped closer. “What would satisfy you?”
“A correction that names who did what. Not a public hanging. Not the closure of a wheelchair program.”
“Then maybe we can settle it quietly.”
I felt the trap before he finished. “Your uncle already tried that.”
He pulled out an envelope. I refused to touch it.
“It's an offer from the foundation's counsel,” he said. “They'll fund June's first two years of college if you sign a statement that the disagreement concerns interpretation, not misconduct.”
For a moment all I saw was June's tuition estimate on the refrigerator. I had enough savings for a semester, maybe two if I sold the truck.
“Take it away,” I told him.
“Please read it.”
“Your uncle wants to buy my silence with my daughter's future.”
Luke looked sick. “I didn't know that was how you'd see it.”
“That is exactly what it is.”
He put the envelope back in his pocket. Before leaving, he said, “He told me you were the one who'd asked for money.”
May you like
We stood in the lot while traffic hissed past. The first uncertainty I'd planted in him had begun to grow roots.
