Chapter 4 - UNMASKING THE TRAITOR6
The rain had started to fall by the time I pulled up to Mallory’s suburban split-level home. The streetlights cast long, shimmering reflections across the wet asphalt.
I walked up the front steps and tapped on the door. Mallory opened it instantly, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Behind her, in the living room, my mother, Elaine, was sitting on the sofa, clutching a mug of tea with trembling hands.
"Laurel," my mother said, her voice small and frail as I walked inside. "Please tell me what’s going on. Derek left in a rage, saying you were going to ruin our family’s future."
I stood in the center of their living room, taking off my rain-dappled coat. "Derek didn't just ruin his own credibility, Mom. He went to a military contractor expo, got drunk, and traded classified information and personal leverage about my military career to a dangerous man."
Elaine looked stunned, her mouth opening slightly. "He... he did what?"
"Marcus Vance was an enlisted sergeant who worked under my command," I explained, looking directly at my sister. "He is a extortionist. He is using old, distorted facts from a combat mission to blackmail me into endorsing Derek’s company for a federal defense contract."
Mallory buried her face in her hands, letting out a choked scream of frustration. "I knew it! I knew he was lying when he said he had everything under control! He’s so obsessed with showing everyone he’s a big man that he’s dragging us into the dirt!"
"Where is he, Mallory?" I asked firmly.
"He... he said he was going to the local VFW post," Mallory sobbed, looking up. "He said Vance was meeting him there to finalize the paperwork that you were supposed to sign."
"He actually thinks I’m going to sign it," I said with a dark, bitter laugh.
"Laurel, wait," my mother stood up from the couch, her knees trembling slightly. She walked over to me, looking up into my eyes. For the first time in my life, I saw true, unadulterated motherly fiercenesses in her face.
"I spent twenty years letting men like your father and Derek quiet this house because I was afraid of conflict," Elaine said, her voice shaking with emotion. "I let Derek treat you like trash because I was terrified of my family falling apart. But I will not let that arrogant coward destroy your honor. Not after everything you gave up for this country. Not after what you gave up for us."
She reached out and took my hands in hers. Her fingers were cold, but her grip was tight.
"Go to that club, Laurel," my mother said softly. "And finish this."
I looked at my mother, feeling a profound shift in the ground beneath our feet. The silent victim who had let the world walk over her for decades was finally standing behind her daughter.
"I’ll finish it," I said.
I drove through the heavy downpour to the Veterans of Foreign Wars post on the outskirts of town. The parking lot was filled with pickup trucks and sedans. The neon sign above the door hummed softly against the dark, rainy night.
I pushed through the double doors. The smell of stale beer, fried food, and tobacco smoke filled the air. A low murmur of voices echoed from the bar, where a dozen older veterans sat watching a football game on a mounted television.
In a booth at the far back corner, sitting beneath a dim lamp, were two men.
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Derek was sitting with a pint of beer, looking flushed and eager, holding a stack of corporate papers. Sitting across from him, looking entirely relaxed with a glass of bourbon, was Marcus Vance.
I didn't hesitate. I walked straight down the center aisle, my boots clicking firmly against the hardwood floor.
