“The padlock on the front bay gate is changed,” Matthew said. His voice was completely drained of color. “My key won’t turn in the office deadbolt.”
My stomach dropped. “Is Linda inside?”
“Her sedan isn’t here. Neither is Derek’s truck.” Matthew swallowed, and I could hear the dry rasp in his throat. “There’s an envelope taped to the front customer door. A manila envelope with my name on it.”
“What does it say?”
Paper rustled through the receiver.
“‘Notice of Immediate Termination for Cause,’” Matthew read slowly, stumbling slightly over the legalistic jargon. “‘Due to conduct unbecoming of Hayes Auto Repair, destruction of company property, and unprovoked physical violence against an executive officer of this company on July 8th, your employment is terminated effective immediately. Your final compensation will be mailed upon return of all company-owned diagnostic tablets and uniform sets. Do not enter the premises under penalty of criminal trespass.’”
Silence stretched over the phone line.
Fifteen years. Fifteen years of sixty-hour workweeks, of inhaling brake dust and chemical solvents, of working through Christmas eves so local single mothers could have their heaters fixed before freezing weather hit.
Gone. Wiped out by a two-paragraph printout taped to a sheet of plate glass.
“Matthew,” I began, “come home. Right now.”
“Fifteen years, Rebecca,” he choked out, his voice finally cracking into an open, ragged sob. “I gave my entire twenties to this place. I built those bay lifts with my dad. My dad’s name is still on the sign out front.”
“Come home,” I repeated firmly. “We don’t bow to cowards.”
He hung up.
By noon, the situation deteriorated from cruel to malicious.
I was sitting in the motor pool office at Fort Campbell, reviewing maintenance logs for our unit’s Humvees, when my phone pinged with a notification from a mutual friend in Clarksville.
*Rebecca, have you seen what Derek just put on Facebook?*
I opened the app with cold fingers.
Derek had posted a selfie taken from a low angle in a hospital corridor. He was sporting an elaborate black wrist brace and an arm sling, looking pale and pathetic. Over three hundred people had already reacted to it.
The caption was pure poison:
*“Never thought my own sister-in-law would use advanced military combat training to assault an unarmed civilian at a private family cookout. Some people can’t control their violent battlefield impulses around normal citizens. My wrist is fractured in two places because I dared to ask for my chair back. Hayes Auto Repair will no longer tolerate unstable, dangerous individuals around our business or family. Pray for my recovery.”*
The comments section was already a feeding frenzy:
*“Disgraceful! Our tax dollars train them to beat up family members?”*
*“I know Derek, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Someone needs to report this psycho to the base commander at Fort Campbell!”*
*“Is this the woman married to Matthew? I’m never taking my car to Hayes Auto again!”*
*“Call the CID! Lock her up!”*
He hadn’t mentioned Sophie. He hadn’t mentioned the beer. He hadn’t mentioned the punch that split Matthew’s lip open to the gumline.
My commanding officer, Captain Miller, stepped past my desk with a clipboard in hand, glancing at my screen.
“Sergeant Hayes,” he said, his brow furrowing as he noticed my jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped. “Everything alright on the home front?”
I closed the app, locked my screen, and looked up at my captain.
