Reclaiming My Home After My Family Declared Me Dead Overseas
“Stand back, ma’am,” he warned.
“You don’t understand,” I said, my voice shaking. “The federal government is already investigating this.”
Walter let out a short, mocking laugh.
“The federal government doesn’t care about a broken soldier, Hannah,” Walter said.
He stepped closer to me, his breath smelling of stale tobacco.
“You should have stayed in the cold,” he whispered so only I could hear. “You and the baby.”
I wanted to hit him, but I forced myself to look past him at Jake.
Jake was looking at the long, dark driveway leading to the main road.
Suddenly, the headlights of the cruiser caught a sudden movement in the snow.
A dark sedan turned onto the road, its lights off.
It was moving fast, fishtailing slightly as it raced toward the trailer.
The car slid to a halt right behind the cruiser, blocking the exit.
The driver’s side door flew open, and a man in a thick winter coat stepped out.
He was holding a large manila envelope.
“Stop!” the man shouted, his voice echoing off the trees.
He ran toward us, slipping on the ice but keeping his footing.