Chapter 2 - THE TWO FUNERALS I NEVER SAW
I did not confront Daniel.
That surprised Hannah.
“You’re not going to ask him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if he lied for five years, asking only tells him I know.”
Power had taught me patience.
Blindness had made me better at it.
Instead, Julian Price, my attorney, requested my complete hospital record under an insurance review.
No Mercer name on the request.
No Daniel.
No Hale.
The paper file arrived forty-eight hours later.
It was different from the electronic one.
That was the first problem.
The second was worse.
My original trauma assessment did not say permanent blindness.
It said:
PROGNOSIS GUARDED.
SIGNIFICANT BILATERAL VISUAL INJURY.
REASSESS AFTER ACUTE INFLAMMATION RESOLVES.
Another page recommended neuro-ophthalmic follow-up at six weeks.
I never received one.
Then:
POTENTIAL SURGICAL MANAGEMENT DEPENDING ON LENS AND RETINAL RECOVERY.
I felt cold.
For five years, Hale had told me there had never been anything anyone could do.
Had treatment guaranteed sight?
No.
Julian made that clear.
But somebody had made certain I never had the choice.
Then we compared signatures.
My supposed refusal forms were convincing.
Not perfect.
Caleb Ortiz, my forensic document examiner, found repeated line formations suggesting a signature template had been digitally inserted.
“Can you prove forgery?”
“With originals, probably.”
Originals were missing.
Of course.
Then Julian opened the part of the hospital file I had never requested.
Caroline Mercer.
Emma Mercer.
Deceased.
Caroline:
Severe blast injuries.
Emma:
Smoke inhalation and trauma.
Both bodies reportedly identified after transfer to county custody.
“By DNA?”
Silence.
Julian kept reading.
“No.”
“Dental?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“Personal identification.”
“Who?”
My stomach already knew.
Dr. Vernon Hale.
And Daniel Cross.
I sat very still.
I had never seen Caroline’s body.
Never seen Emma’s.
Daniel told me the damage was too severe.
The coffins remained closed.
I was blind, medicated, half-conscious, and grieving so violently that breathing felt like betrayal.
My mother had already died.
My father was gone.
Daniel handled everything.
Hale told me viewing them would only create another wound.
So I listened.
Five years later, Julian could not find a DNA report confirming either death.
“Could records be missing?”
“Yes.”
“Could they still have died?”
“Yes.”
Good.
We were not turning absence into miracles.
Not yet.
Then Caleb found another inconsistency.
Official emergency dispatch records showed two female victims removed from Pier 17 at 9:18 p.m.
But the city ambulance carrying the bodies listed as Caroline and Emma did not leave until 9:47.
“What happened to the first two?”
Unknown.
The dispatch entry had been manually amended.
Vehicle identification:
Private medical transport.
No company name.
Then Hannah whispered:
“Red ambulance.”
I turned.
“What?”
She sounded shaken.
“My husband used to drive private medical transports.”
The room changed.
I knew Hannah’s husband had disappeared.
I had never asked much.
People who worked for me learned quickly that I did not demand biographies.
“What was his name?”
“Owen Reed.”
“When did he disappear?”
“Four years and eight months ago.”
Three months after the explosion.
My pulse slowed.
“Where did he work?”
“Northstar Medical Transport.”
Julian’s keyboard stopped.
Northstar.
That was the private company on a partial invoice found in the Pier 17 emergency file.
Hannah had gone silent.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I didn’t know it was connected.”
“Why did you take the job in my house?”
Another silence.
There.
Something else.
“Hannah.”
She swallowed.
“Owen called me the night of your explosion.”
My entire body went cold.
“What did he say?”
“He said they had transported a woman and a little girl away from Pier 17.”
I could hear my own heartbeat.
“Alive?”
Hannah began crying.
“He said the little girl was crying for her daddy.”
I stopped breathing.
Emma.
Four years old.
Then Hannah said:
“Owen told me someone made him turn off the ambulance GPS.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t say on the phone.”
“What happened afterward?”
“He came home at four in the morning. He burned his uniform in our backyard.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“He said he had seen something that could get us killed.”
Then:
“Three months later, he disappeared.”
The room went silent.
“Did he ever mention Caroline?”
Hannah whispered:
“Yes.”
May you like
My knees nearly failed.
“He said the woman kept asking where Grant was.”
