Chapter 3 - The Man with the Folder

The stranger stopped beside the last row. He was tall, silver-haired, with the calm expression of a man used to owning rooms.

"Colonel Mercer," General Haskett said, and there was no warmth in it.

Retired Colonel Wade Mercer had overseen the flood-response operation. Back then, his signatures were on the convoy order and the incident report. Today he was a consultant for the county contractor that maintained the creek gates. I had not seen him in five years.

"General," Mercer said. "Sorry to interrupt. I was told there was a disturbance."

"You're looking at one," Haskett replied.

Mercer's eyes flicked from the photograph to Brody. "Mr. Ruddock, this is not the place to revisit a tragedy."

"Funny," Brody said. "You said the same thing at the hospital."

Charlene moved between them. "Wade helped us when no one else would."

I stared at her. "You know him?"

"Of course I do. Your father knew him."

I remembered a stack of letters in Dad's office, sealed away after his death. I remembered Charlene saying they were old tax papers. More sharply, I remembered Dad at my kitchen table six years ago, one hand over mine.

Please, Erin. Brody won't survive this if you tear the family apart.

The general turned to the audience. "The ceremony will pause for ten minutes. Remain seated unless directed otherwise."

A captain guided the families toward the side hall. I followed Brody through the gym doors. He spun around as soon as we were alone.

"You still have Dad's key?" he asked.

"What key?"

He stared. "He never gave you the brass one?"

Mercer appeared at the far end of the hall. "Brody. We need a private conversation."

"No," I said.

He smiled at me. "Major Lennox, you should be enjoying your special day."

"My special day got interrupted by a lie you've been feeding for six years."

The smile vanished. "Be careful which accusations you put in writing."

Brody reached into his pocket and placed a tiny brass key in my palm. A strip of masking tape on it read 14-B in my father's handwriting.

"Dad said to give it to you if I ever got the courage," he said. "He said the truth wasn't in the newspaper."

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Then Mercer leaned close enough that only the three of us could hear.

"If you open that box," he said, "Leah Owens will learn what really happened to her husband."