Chapter 8 - A Signature That Wasn't His
Naomi asked Aaron to preserve the voicemail and the letter, and to request from the company, in writing, a copy of the purported authorization. Aaron wanted to march into HonorLine's office instead.
“I can stand on this knee long enough to ask a question,” he snapped.
“And then they'll have a photograph of an angry veteran,” Mara said, “instead of a document they have to explain.”
He glared. She recognized her own impatience in his face.
They submitted the request. Within forty-eight hours HonorLine returned a form displaying Aaron's typed name, the last four digits of a service identifier, and an electronic acceptance stamp. The contact email belonged to neither Aaron nor his mother.
Calvin Brooks agreed to speak with Naomi. Two other veterans from the resource center had nearly identical forms, all showing the same oddly worded acknowledgment. None had been contacted by an actual VA employee from HonorLine, despite what promotional materials suggested.
Mara expected to feel triumphant. Instead she watched Aaron stare at his own name in a signature box he hadn't touched.
“They've got enough information to pretend to be me,” he said.
“Not forever.”
“Long enough to make trouble.”
At Fort Ridgeline, her commander issued a temporary restriction on Mara's access to certain archives while her conduct review remained open. She could still perform ordinary duties under supervision. The order was narrower than a suspension, but the rumors were not.
At lunch a captain she had mentored moved to another table. Mara kept eating, furious at herself for caring.
Reyes, meanwhile, requested a consultation with military defense counsel before making a formal statement. She did not ask Mara to join her. That was progress of its own kind.
One evening a letter arrived at Aaron's house, delivered without a return address. Inside was a photocopy of the convoy photograph, uncropped. It showed Bell near the ambulance, Mara's brother supporting the injured medic, and Farid crouched beside the truck.
May you like
Across the back, in faded handwriting, someone had written: I kept the negative. They kept the story.
There was no signature.
