Chapter 6 - Criminal Consequences
The arrest of Margaret Wilson was neither private nor dignified.
The local police chief stepped onto the stairs, producing steel handcuffs. "Margaret Wilson, you are under arrest for arson, reckless endangerment, and pending federal counts of wire fraud and grand larceny."
"Don't touch me! Arthur, tell him who we are!" Margaret screamed, thrashing as the cuffs were clicked around her manicured wrists. Her designer hair unravelled, dangling in sweaty strands across her face. "You cannot do this to me! I am a Wilson! My grandfather built the hospital wing in this town!"
"And your granddaughter-in-law bled for this country, lady," Chief Miller said bluntly, pulling her down the stairs. "Move your feet."
Guests scrambled out of the way, knocking over champagne flutes and floral arrangements as the police escorted Margaret through the center aisle—the very aisle she had forbidden me to walk down.
Jason scrambled toward me, his face desperate, sweat pouring down his collar.
"Katie! Katie, please!" he begged, reaching for my hands. Jessica stepped smoothly in front of him, her arm creating an impenetrable barrier. "Katie, listen to me! I panicked! You know how my mother is, she controls the family trust! I had to placate her until the wedding was finalized! I love you, Katie! We can fix this! We can leave right now, go to the city, get married at City Hall—just you and me!"
"Jason," I said, looking him dead in the eye.
He went quiet, hope flickering in his pathetic gaze.
"When I was pinned down in the Korengal Valley," I said, "I learned that in a crisis, pressure doesn't change what a person is. It reveals what they've always been."
I reached into the pocket of my uniform jacket and pulled out a small ziplock bag. Inside was the two-carat diamond ring, covered in gray ash from my burnt wedding dress.
I dropped the bag onto the courtyard stones at his feet.
"You're a coward, Jason. And the only thing worse than a coward is a thief who steals from wounded soldiers. Don't ever speak my name again."
I turned on my heel and walked away.
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Behind me, Arthur Wilson didn't even look at his son. He was slumped in a folding chair, head in his hands, watching his life's work dissolve as federal agents began securing boxes of documents from his private office upstairs.
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