Chapter 11 - ETHAN'S DEAL
Ethan made it three blocks before agents caught him behind a grocery store.
He was not arrested immediately.
That frustrated me more than I expected.
He had been inside a house under active search.
He had fled from federal agents.
He had apparently tried to burn my mother's will.
But investigators still needed to determine who owned the papers, what exactly he had destroyed, and whether his entry into the garage violated a specific order or merely common sense.
Law moved more slowly than rage.
I hated that.
By evening, Ethan had an attorney.
By midnight, his attorney was claiming he entered the garage to retrieve personal property.
By morning, Ethan posted another video.
This time he was careful not to mention the investigation.
He sat in his car wearing a baseball cap and looked directly into the camera.
“My family is being torn apart because one person cannot let go of the past.”
I turned it off.
Aunt Claire took my phone away.
“You need breakfast.”
“I need his internet connection removed.”
“That is not one of the food groups.”
I looked at her.
She pushed a plate toward me.
“Eggs.”
I ate because arguing with Claire before coffee had never ended well.
Halfway through breakfast, my phone buzzed in her hand.
She looked at the screen.
“Ethan.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“He has spent two days pouring gasoline on your life.”
“Which is why I need to know what he wants.”
She hesitated, then handed it over.
The message contained an address and four words.
Come alone if interested.
I forwarded it to Agent Kent.
She called within thirty seconds.
“You are not going alone.”
“I assumed.”
“You are not going at all unless we control the meeting.”
“What if he has documents?”
“Then he can give them to his attorney.”
“He will not.”
Kent was silent.
She knew I was right.
Two hours later, I walked into a diner near the interstate wearing a wire beneath my sweatshirt.
Kent's team occupied a van across the parking lot.
Two agents sat inside the restaurant pretending to be customers.
I hated every second of it.
Not because I was afraid of Ethan.
Because I hated that my family had become an operation.
Ethan sat in the last booth.
He had dark circles under his eyes.
His usual smugness was gone.
I sat across from him.
“You said alone.”
He looked around.
“I know you didn't come alone.”
“Then why invite me?”
“Because I want out.”
I stared at him.
“Out of what?”
He laughed without humor.
“This.”
He waved one hand as if the entire disaster could fit between the salt shaker and the napkin holder.
“Mom is losing it.”
“She broke my arm.”
“I know.”
“You laughed.”
His eyes dropped.
“I know.”
I waited.
No apology came.
Of course it did not.
“What do you want?”
He leaned closer.
“You drop the assault complaint.”
I almost stood up.
“Sit.”
His voice sharpened.
“I have something you need.”
“What?”
“Voss kept scans.”
My pulse changed.
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
“Define everything.”
“Trust papers.”
“The will.”
“Your hospital stuff.”
He swallowed.
“And Army documents.”
“Where?”
“Not his office.”
“Where?”
Ethan looked toward the window.
“Mom has copies.”
My skin went cold.
“At the house?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“Storage unit.”
“Whose name?”
“Mine.”
I stared at him.
“You burned documents yesterday.”
“Mom told me to.”
“You are thirty years old.”
He flinched.
“Stop saying it like I am a kid she manipulated.”
“Then stop describing yourself like one.”
His face reddened.
For a second, I saw the Ethan who laughed in the auditorium.
Then it faded.
“She told me if the will surfaced, Dad would lose the house.”
“Did you know why?”
“She said your mom had manipulated him when she was dying.”
“And you believed her.”
“You believe the Army.”
The comparison was so absurd I almost smiled.
Instead, I leaned forward.
“The Army did not forge my signature while I was in a hospital.”
Ethan looked away.
That reaction told me something.
“You knew about that too.”
“No.”
“You knew.”
“I knew there were papers.”
“What papers?”
“Dad signed blank pages sometimes.”
My heartbeat thudded in my ears.
“What did you say?”
Ethan rubbed both hands over his face.
“When Voss came over, Dad would sign stuff.”
“Blank?”
“Sometimes.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw him.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“How many years?”
Ethan hesitated.
“After you got hurt overseas.”
The wire beneath my sweatshirt suddenly felt too tight.
“What did Voss say the papers were for?”
“Protecting the family.”
I stared at him.
“Did Linda sign blank pages?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Too fast.
I waited.
Ethan's eyes flicked toward the sugar packets.
“You did.”
“It was one thing.”
“What thing?”
“I don't know.”
“You came here asking for a deal.”
His jaw tightened.
“If you want one, stop lying.”
He whispered the next sentence.
“Voss paid me.”
“For what?”
“To scan old documents from your room.”
A cold sensation moved down my spine.
“What documents?”
“Anything military.”
“Why?”
“He said Dad needed copies for insurance.”
“When?”
“After your first deployment.”
“Before Night Lantern?”
“Yes.”
“And after?”
Ethan nodded.
I fought the urge to reach across the table.
“Did you scan the casualty worksheet?”
“I don't know what it was called.”
“Did you scan a paper with names of wounded and dead soldiers?”
His face changed.
“Yes.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Dad's blue folder.”
There it was again.
The blue folder from Germany.
My father had not merely brought documents to me.
He had brought documents back.
“What else was in the folder?”
“A bunch of signed pages.”
“Blank?”
“Some.”
My stomach turned.
“How many?”
“I don't remember.”
“Try.”
“Maybe six.”
Six signed pages.
I remembered two or three signatures.
The rest could have come from forms I signed during treatment.
Or they could have been traced.
Either way, my father had carried a toolkit for forgery home in a blue folder.
“What did Voss pay you?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
I stared at him.
He sold access to my military paperwork for five hundred dollars.
Ethan saw my face.
“I was nineteen.”
“So was Jonah's sister when she buried him.”
He looked away.
The sentence hurt him.
I was glad.
Then Ethan reached into his jacket.
One of the undercover agents shifted at the counter.
I kept my hands visible.
Ethan slowly placed a small black memory card on the table.
“I copied Voss's backup drive before I left his office.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
“Against whom?”
“Everyone.”
I did not touch the card.
“What is on it?”
“I don't know all of it.”
“You looked.”
“Some.”
“What did you see?”
His face lost color.
“A letter from Trask.”
“What letter?”
“To Voss.”
“What did it say?”
Ethan swallowed.
“It said if Night Lantern ever came up again, they needed to keep the medic focused on the family money.”
For a moment, the diner disappeared.
“Say that again.”
“He called you the medic.”
“He said keep the medic focused on the family money.”
“Why?”
Ethan shook his head.
“I don't know.”
I stared at the memory card.
This was not Linda improvising anymore.
Someone had anticipated that I might one day ask questions about Night Lantern.
And they had decided years ago that if I did, the missing trust money could be used to distract me.
I stood.
Ethan reached for the card.
I put my good hand over it first.
“You said drop the complaint.”
“No.”
His face hardened.
“That was the deal.”
“No.”
“You cannot take that.”
“I am not taking it.”
Agent Kent appeared beside the booth.
“She is giving it to me.”
Ethan went white.
Two agents approached from behind.
Kent placed the memory card in an evidence bag.
Then she looked at Ethan.
“You have the right to remain silent.”
His mouth fell open.
“You set me up.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
I stepped away from the table.
May you like
“You finally told the truth in a room where someone was listening.”
