Chapter 5: The Man Behind the Fake Medals
Agent Collins entered the den without looking at the trophies.
She looked at the laptop.
Then the filing cabinet.
Then the papers scattered across the carpet.
"Nobody touches anything," she instructed.
One of the officers moved toward Marcus.
"Sir, turn around and keep your hands where I can see them.""
Marcus immediately raised his voice.
"This is ridiculous! I'm a former military instructor. I know my rights.""
Agent Collins didn't even glance at his medals.
"Your claimed credentials are part of the investigation, Mr. Reed.""
He straightened.
"I have documentation.""
"That's what we're here to examine.""
Marcus looked at me.
"Jessica, tell them who you are.""
I remained silent.
He tried again.
"Tell them I have connections. Tell them you know I worked with government personnel.""
I looked at Agent Collins.
"I've never verified any of his claimed military credentials.""
Marcus stared at me.
"You ungrateful little—"
"Sir," one officer interrupted, "watch your language.""
My mother stood in the hallway, one hand pressed against her mouth.
"Agent Collins," she asked, "is my husband in trouble?""
The agent softened her voice slightly.
"Ma'am, we're investigating suspected fraudulent documents and possible misuse of protected information. We need to establish what happened before making conclusions.""
Marcus seized on the wording.
"Exactly! An investigation. Nothing has been proven.""
He turned toward my mother.
"Linda, tell them I'm a legitimate consultant.""
She looked at him for a long time.
Then she asked a question I'd never heard her ask anyone.
"Marcus, did you lie to me about your military service?""
He blinked.
"Linda—"
"Answer me.""
He glanced at the officers.
"I served.""
"Where?""
"Overseas.""
"Which branch?""
"Why are you doing this?""
Her voice broke.
"Because I'm asking you a question.""
He looked away.
Agent Collins approached the shadow box.
"May I ask where you obtained these decorations?""
Marcus crossed his arms.
"They were awarded to me.""
"By whom?""
"Military authorities.""
"Which office?""
"That information is classified.""
Agent Collins removed a small notebook from her pocket.
"Mr. Reed, classified information does not prevent you from identifying the organization that issued an award.""
He said nothing.
She pointed toward one of the ribbons.
"This particular combination of decorations is inconsistent with the service history you've represented to the contractor.""
Marcus laughed nervously.
"That's your opinion.""
"No. It's a preliminary finding.""
She turned toward the desk.
"Who prepared your training authorization?""
Marcus shook his head.
"I don't remember.""
"Who signed it?""
"I received it from a contact.""
"Name?""
"Classified.""
Agent Collins paused.
Then she looked directly at him.
"Mr. Reed, you have used that word repeatedly. It does not make an ordinary document classified, and it does not turn an invented credential into a legitimate one.""
Richard let out a quiet breath.
My mother began crying again.
I approached her.
"Mom, let's sit down.""
She shook her head.
"I want to know everything.""
I understood.
For three years, she had lived with a man who had carefully constructed a personality around stories of bravery and sacrifice.
Now she was discovering that the foundation might not exist.
Agent Collins asked me to step into the hallway.
"Jessica, we need to establish how your photograph and personnel information could have reached him.""
I nodded.
"My official photograph isn't publicly distributed.""
"Do you have any idea how he obtained it?""
I thought about the envelope.
The red circle.
The handwritten note.
"No.""
"Has he ever entered your personal room?""
"Yes. When I visit.""
"Have you left government equipment or documents here?""
"Never.""
She nodded.
"Good.""
Then she showed me another photograph on her tablet.
It was a screenshot of an online business profile.
*MARCUS REED — FORMER SPECIAL OPERATIONS TACTICAL INSTRUCTOR.*
His profile included photographs of him standing beside military personnel.
I recognized two of the images.
One had been cropped from a public military training event.
Another was a stock photograph from a defense conference.
He had placed his own name beneath both.
The profile also listed a certification number.
I studied it.
"That's not a valid certification format.""
Agent Collins nodded.
"We're checking that now.""
"How long has this profile been active?""
"At least fourteen months.""
Fourteen months.
I remembered Marcus mentioning his new consulting business at Christmas.
He'd claimed he was preparing to advise private security companies.
I'd assumed it was another hobby.
Now I understood why he had been so interested in my work.
Agent Collins continued.
"The contractor who received his proposal requested verification after noticing discrepancies in his credentials.""
"Then how did my name become involved?""
"That's what we're investigating.""
She turned the tablet toward me.
A second document appeared.
This one contained my photograph, professional designation, and a statement claiming I had personally recommended Marcus as an approved instructor.
I stared at the screen.
The wording was carefully constructed.
It didn't say I was his stepdaughter.
It suggested I had worked with him professionally.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
A crude imitation.
But recognizable enough to deceive someone who didn't know me.
I felt anger rising.
"He's using my name to sell himself.""
Agent Collins nodded.
"That appears to be one possibility.""
My mother approached us.
She had heard enough to understand.
"How much money?""
Nobody answered.
She looked at the tablet.
"How much money has he made?""
Agent Collins lowered it.
"We're still determining that.""
My mother covered her face.
"I gave him access to my savings.""
I turned toward her.
"What?""
She looked at me through tears.
"He said the consulting company needed startup money. He told me he'd pay it back.""
"How much?""
"Thirty thousand dollars.""
Richard swore under his breath.
Marcus heard her from inside the den.
"Linda! Don't tell them our financial business!""
She stepped into the doorway.
"Thirty thousand dollars, Marcus!""
He shook his head.
"You agreed to invest.""
"You told me you had a government contract!""
"I was working on one!""
"Was it real?""
He didn't answer.
My mother looked at him.
"Was any of it real?""
Marcus's expression shifted.
His arrogance disappeared, replaced by something colder.
"You people have no idea what I've sacrificed.""
My mother stared.
"What did you sacrifice?""
He gestured toward the room.
"My entire career!""
Agent Collins interrupted.
"Mr. Reed, we're not discussing your feelings about your career. We're discussing the documents.""
He glared at her.
Then he looked at me.
"You did this.""
I shook my head.
"No. You did.""
He pointed toward the hallway.
"She thinks she's better than everybody because she wears a government badge.""
I said nothing.
He continued.
"She has no idea what real danger looks like.""
Agent Collins closed her notebook.
"Mr. Reed, you may want to stop making statements.""
But Marcus couldn't stop.
He had spent three years building an identity that depended on being admired.
And now, with his family watching, the entire performance was collapsing.
"You want the truth?"" he shouted.
Everyone turned.
Marcus pointed directly at me.
"I never needed her credentials to get that contract.""
Agent Collins went still.
Richard frowned.
My mother whispered, "What?""
Marcus realized what he'd said.
His mouth closed.
I stepped forward.
"What contract?""
He looked at me.
Then at Agent Collins.
Finally, he gave a bitter laugh.
"Ask your precious Colonel Hayes.""
My phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
It was from Colonel Hayes.
*Jessica, we found a second authorization. This one was submitted under Marcus Reed's name. The approving official is listed as Colonel David Hayes.*
I stared at the screen.
The signature was identical to the one on the forged document.
But the message continued.
*There is a serious problem. The authorization references an operation that is still active.*
I looked up.
Agent Collins was watching me.
"What is it?"" she asked.
I turned the phone toward her.
She read the message.
Then her expression changed.
"Jessica, we need to speak privately.""
I followed her into the hallway.
She lowered her voice.
"Your stepfather may have obtained information about an operation that hasn't been publicly acknowledged.""
I looked toward the den.
Marcus was no longer shouting.
He was watching us.
And for the first time, I wondered whether his fake military stories had been more than a desperate attempt to impress my family.
May you like
What if someone had been feeding him information?
What if Marcus wasn't the only person involved?
