Chapter 4 - A Help Desk with a Price Tag
Mara took two days of leave and visited a veterans' resource center near Aaron's house. She kept her rank out of the conversation. It was a civilian nonprofit, with folding chairs, a coffee urn, and a poster warning veterans never to pay an unaccredited person for help filing an initial VA benefits claim.
A volunteer named Helen Price listened while Mara described HonorLine's letters.
“They sponsor booths at every job fair,” Helen said. “The people at the booths call themselves claims guides. They don't always explain that they're selling services.”
“Is selling help illegal?”
“Not every kind of professional assistance. But passing off a private company as the VA, charging prohibited fees, or mishandling someone's information can be a serious problem. The details matter.”
A man waiting with a cane raised his hand. His name was Calvin Brooks. HonorLine had charged him $950 for a ‘priority review’ it could not provide. When he complained, a representative told him that arguing could slow his benefits. He showed Mara receipts and a printed email. She asked permission before taking notes.
“You write stories?” Calvin asked.
“No. I'm trying to learn who told them they could use our names.”
His expression hardened. “Then start with the man on their billboard.”
On the drive home, Mara received a formal order to appear before a review officer. The allegation was not that she had stolen a document. It was that she had used her position to seek sensitive records for a personal matter. That distinction might not save her commission.
She called her commander, Lieutenant Colonel Dana Pike, and explained everything she had done. Pike listened without interruption.
“Do not use your work access again,” Pike said. “And if you have allegations of fraud, bring them to investigators, not to me over an unsecured call.”
“Will you support my request?”
“I'll support an accurate account of what you did. Those aren't always the same thing.”
Mara knew Pike was right. She hated that being right could feel so much like abandonment.
That evening Calvin sent her a photograph of the HonorLine booth. Behind the smiling representative was an enlarged picture from Afghanistan: Nathan Bell holding a medical bag beside the destroyed truck.
May you like
In the lower-left corner, barely visible, a soldier's hand gripped the doorframe. Two fingers were bent at an unnatural angle.
Mara knew that hand.
