Chapter 2 - Mason’s Father Walked Into The Mess Hall
Chief Warrant Officer Five Alan Reed entered seven minutes later.
I knew the rank.
I knew the reputation.
I did not know he was Mason’s father.
Most people on that base knew Alan Reed as the senior aviation standards officer who had spent more time in uniform than half the room had been alive.
Mason called him Dad.
Alan ignored him.
He went straight to the table.
The flask.
Then the wings in my hand.
He stopped.
His face hardened around something that looked very close to grief.
“Where did you get those?”
“They fell out of this.”
“I know where they came from.”
“Then we're ahead of me.”
Alan looked at Mason.
“Where did you get the flask?”
Mason said nothing.
“Mason.”
“Your office.”
Alan's eyes changed.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“You took it from my desk?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mason glanced around.
Everyone was still watching.
Alan turned toward the nearest lieutenant.
“Clear the room.”
Mason immediately said:
“No.”
Alan looked at him.
“You do not get to choose your audience now.”
That landed.
Soldiers filed out slowly.
A few looked at me.
One looked at the food still across the floor.
Five minutes earlier, I had been the woman accused of hiding alcohol in a locker.
Now nobody seemed sure what they had witnessed.
When the doors closed, Alan looked at Mason again.
“Why was my flask in her locker?”
Mason’s jaw tightened.
I turned.
“My locker?”
He stared at the table.
“Mason.”
I stepped closer.
“You put it there.”
He didn't answer.
That was enough.
I laughed once.
“You planted it.”
Alan looked at his son.
Mason finally said:
“Yes.”
The word made the room feel smaller.
“Why?”
Mason looked at me now.
“Because your name is Hayes.”
I stared.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Alan said sharply:
“Mason.”
He ignored him.
“My father had that flask found in his locker sixteen years ago.”
I looked toward Alan.
Mason continued.
“Everybody decided he was drinking on duty. He lost his aviation recommendation. People called him a drunk behind his back.”
Alan closed his eyes.
“And you decided to recreate it with me.”
Mason looked ashamed for maybe half a second.
Then anger came back.
“Your father walked away from it.”
“My father?”
“Major Evan Hayes.”
Alan looked at his son.
“Stop.”
Mason snapped:
“You spent my whole childhood telling me what happened.”
“No.”
Mason laughed.
“You told me Hayes let you take the fall.”
Alan’s face changed.
“That is not the same sentence.”
“It became the same life.”
I looked between them.
“My father was involved?”
Alan stared at the wings.
“Yes.”
“How?”
He did not answer immediately.
Mason did.
“He put that flask in Dad’s locker.”
Alan turned so fast Mason stopped.
“No.”
Mason stared.
Alan said it again.
“Evan Hayes never put a flask in my locker.”
The anger left Mason’s face.
“What?”
“I brought it there myself.”
Mason looked at the dented metal object as if it had changed shape.
Alan reached toward the wings.
Then stopped before touching them.
“They were already inside.”
I looked at the engraving again.
E. HAYES.
“My father’s?”
Alan nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why did you have them?”
His mouth tightened.
“That answer belongs partly to Evan.”
“Then call him.”
Alan looked at me.
“I haven't spoken to your father in fourteen years.”
“Congratulations.”
He almost reacted.
May you like
I continued.
“Today seems popular for ending traditions.”
