And now we know why they panicked when they saw me checking his casket, Elijah said. They needed to establish a reason to delay transport to check if he left anything behind. Tonya's computer chimed. The surveillance footage will take about an hour to copy. After that, I can't guarantee it'll still be accessible.
Do it, Maya said. We'll need proof of their behavior before they can sanitize everything. Elijah checked his watch. Lena Mercer's flight lands soon. She'll want answers about the delay.
Then let's go meet her, Maya said, gathering her things. She deserves to know what's really happening to her son. They left the sterile office behind, stepping into late morning sunlight. The truth was emerging piece by piece. Not just about yesterday's humiliation, but about why Noah Mercer died, and who wanted that truth buried with him.
The funeral home intake room felt too small. Its beige walls and artificial plants, a poor attempt at comfort. Lena Mercer sat with perfect posture in one of the vinyl chairs, her nurse's scrubs still on from her flight. Her eyes were tired, but focused, as she looked at Elijah. I recognize your voice from the phone, she said quietly.
You stayed with him all night. Yes, ma'am. Elijah remained standing, his dress uniform precise despite the sleepless hours. I gave my word he wouldn't be alone. Maya sat nearby with her legal pad, watching her father and Lena find their connection through shared loss.
The room's fluorescent lights hummed overhead, making everything feel slightly unreal. Noah called me three nights before it happened, Lena said, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. It was late, almost midnight. He sounded different, scared maybe. Not my confident boy.
Elijah moved closer, his presence steady. What did he tell you? He said he'd seen something wrong on base. Something with the vehicles they used for training. Her voice grew firmer.
He said people were cutting corners, falsifying maintenance records. He told me, "Mom, if something happens to me, don't let them bury me fast. " Maya's pen moved rapidly across her notepad. Did he specify what kind of maintenance issues? No, but he said soldiers could die if it wasn't fixed. Lena's fingers worried at her wedding ring.
Three days later, they told me he died in a training accident. Claimed a vehicle rollover, but wouldn't let me see detailed reports. Elijah shared a look with Maya before speaking. Mrs. Mercer, when I checked Noah's body at the airport, I noticed bruising around his wrist that doesn't match a vehicle accident report.
Show me exactly where, Lena said, nurse's training evident in her sharp tone. Elijah indicated the spot on his own wrist. Here, like someone had grabbed hard enough to leave marks. The official report mentions no close contact injuries. And now there's an unexplained hold on moving his body, Maya added.