Chapter 13 - The Reckoning
Hale stared at the open book in the glaring headlights. His mouth opened, but no words came out. The smug certainty that had defined his posture on the train platform hours earlier had vanished completely, replaced by a gray, sickening realization.
""Where... where did you get that?"" Hale whispered.
""From my father's safe,"" Nathan replied. ""The identical digital records are currently being transferred from Fort Carson's legal division to the federal district attorney's office in Denver. By sunrise, there will be a federal warrant out for everyone who signed this deed transfer.""
The passenger door of the facility clicked open. The nighttime supervisor, an older woman with tired eyes and a clipboard, stepped out under the awning to see what the commotion was.
""What is going on out here, Mr. Hale?"" she asked sharply. ""Why is this transport delayed?""
""Ma'am,"" Nathan called out, turning his chair toward her. ""I am Staff Sergeant Nathaniel Vance. That is my son in that van. The transfer order in that man's hand was obtained through criminal misrepresentation of my property and status. Check his file. Look at the service allotment records on the state database right now.""
The woman looked at Nathan's soaked uniform, the mud caked on his medals, and the iron determination carved into his face. Then she looked at Hale, whose hands were visibly shaking as he tried to fold his umbrella.
""Mr. Hale,"" the supervisor said, her voice dropping into icy professionalism. ""Step away from that vehicle. Bring the file into my office.""
""This is completely irregular—"" Hale began.
""Step away from the vehicle,"" she repeated. ""Driver, cut the engine and open the passenger side.""
The van’s engine died. The heavy sliding door rolled back on its track.
Leo was sitting in a child safety seat, his coat half-zipped, tears drying on his face. When he saw his father sitting in the rain by the wheel, his entire little body surged forward against the chest straps.
""Daddy! You came!""
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Nathan rolled his chair directly to the threshold of the van. With arms that felt like they were forged of lead and fire, he reached up, unbuckled the harness with trembling fingers, and pulled his son into his lap. Leo buried his face into the hollow of Nathan’s neck, his small hands clutching the brass ribbons so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Nathan buried his face in his boy’s hair, breathing in the scent of damp wool and innocent tears. For the first time in seven months, Nathan Vance did not feel the phantom pain in his legs. He felt whole.
