Page 37 of Point of Contact

He and Carl huddled together as they listened to Staff Sergeant Meyer detail how Riley would be placed in a hard-sided case, his body surrounded with ice, and flown directly from Afghanistan to the military mortuary in Delaware with only brief refueling stops.

“Every time he’s moved, whether it’s from plane to plane, or plane to hearse, he will be afforded dignified transfer. He’ll never be left alone, because a designated military escort will be with him every step of the way.” Meyer stopped to let Trevor process this, then said, “Once he’s embalmed, he’ll be dressed in full uniform and his casket will be personally escorted here to Colorado, or to Arlington, or wherever you instruct his final resting place to be.” Another pause. “He is eligible for burial with full military honors at Arlington.”

Trevor stared at the floor. “Do I have to decide all that today? I—”

“No, no, Trevor. Absolutely nothing has to be decided right this minute. Take as much time as you need.”

Meyer leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “I think we’ll leave you alone now,” he said gently, “but I’ll return tomorrow, all right? I’m here for you, every step of the way, Trevor. To help navigate the paperwork, clarify the process, answer any and all questions you might have.” He laid his card on the coffee table in front of him. “Call me anytime, day or night.”

They all stood, and Trevor was grateful for Carl’s arm around his waist. He reached out to shake both men’s hands. “Thank you,” he said, “for your kindness and professionalism. I appreciate it.”

As they headed for the front door, Trevor suddenly stopped. “Please, can you—can you tell me what happened to him? How he died?”

Meyer turned to face him. “I don’t have any specifics,” he said quietly. “The information I received indicates PFC Estes died from a gunshot wound incurred during combat operations.”

“But will I be able to see him?” Trevor asked, the tenuous hold on his control starting to splinter as a tremor ran through him. “Is he viewable?”

Greene stepped forward and rested his hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “We don’t have that information yet, Trevor. I promise you, once that determination is made, we’ll let you know. As his father you have the absolute right to see him, but the mortuary staff in Delaware will make a formal recommendation for or against viewing him, and that recommendation is what we urge family members to follow.”

All Trevor could do was nod, and Carl tightened his arm, supporting him as he sagged against him. The men let themselves out, closing the front door softly behind them.

“Oh, Trev,” Carl whispered as he pulled Trevor against him, wrapping him up in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

Trevor clutched him. “He’s gone, Carl,” he choked, the cracks in his composure spreading as he acknowledged the truth. “Riley’s gone.”

“I know, honey.” Carl rocked him, running his hands up and down Trevor’s back. “I know.”

Trevor’s knees gave out and Carl eased him to the floor, not letting go as he finally succumbed to the wave of grief that crashed over him, sweeping him away.

Chapter Eleven

The smell of jet fuel in the air was pungent, a contrast to the cool refreshing breeze blowing across the tarmac. Trevor stood just inside the doorway of the cavernous hangar, watching as the enormous military cargo plane rolled to a smooth halt. Air Force ground personnel ran to chock the wheels as the whine of the engines slowly died away.

“They’ll be bringing him out in a minute, once the crew does their post-flight checks.” Staff Sergeant Meyer’s—Julian’s—voice was soft at Trevor’s shoulder, and Trevor nodded, watching as the carry team lined up at the rear of the plane, stiffly at attention, white-gloved hands at their sides. They saluted when the cargo bay door started to lower, as did Julian. When the ramp was at last down and locked into place, the team turned to slow-march up into the depths of the plane.

Trevor took deep breaths, in and out, his body cold and trembling. The trembling turned to shaking when the team of six appeared again, three on each side of a cart which held a large square box. They wheeled it smoothly down the ramp to begin the measured journey from the plane to the hangar, where Trevor and Julian waited with a representative of the local funeral home and his shiny black hearse.

Carl wasn’t there, and Trevor shoved away the memory of the hurt on his face when Trevor told him he wanted to go meet Riley at the Air Force base alone.

He hadn’t argued further, and now Trevor wished he’d let him come, wished he had his solid warmth to lean on as he watched the plain box carrying what was left of his son approach. They were close enough now Trevor could hear the rattling of the wheels on the tarmac, and he locked his shaky knees and pressed his lips together. No, it was better this way. Trevor was barely holding on, and any attempt at comfort from Carl would send him splintering apart again. Julian at his side was just what he needed—a kind, supportive presence, but his crisp professional detachment was the glue that welded Trevor’s emotional cracks together and enabled him to do this.

The cart was brought to a stop at the rear of the hearse, wheels locked, and the pallbearers took a step back, rendering another salute. A uniformed man following the procession stepped up to Trevor.

“My name is Staff Sergeant Brian Valle, and it was my honor to escort PFC Estes home.” He handed Trevor a red velvet drawstring bag. “These are his personal effects, and they have not been out of my sight since I took possession of them.”

Trevor clutched the bag to him, tears rushing to his eyes. He wanted more than anything to rip it open and go through it, but he needed to be completely alone for that. The bag was heavy, and it clinked as Trevor tightened his hand on it.

“Thank you,” he managed.

Staff Sergeant Valle nodded, moving to the transfer case. He slid a box cutter out of his pocket and cut the plastic zip ties around it before easing the wooden panels away, which revealed a shiny brown casket inside. A folded, shrink-wrapped flag was attached to the top, and Valle carefully took the plastic wrap off. As he did, the team stepped forward as one to take hold of the flag along all sides, draping it gently over the full length of the casket before grasping the three handles on each side and sliding the casket from the cart into the hearse. The dignity and ritual of it all was vastly comforting to Trevor, and he squared his shoulders, his tenuous control back in place.

Valle spoke again. “Mr. Estes, I’ll accompany Riley to the funeral home, and ensure that all is in order before you arrive.”

At Trevor’s nod, he climbed in the passenger seat of the hearse, and the funeral home rep backed slowly out of the hangar and drove away. Julian touched Trevor’s elbow, leading him to the government car he’d picked Trevor up in that morning.

“What does he mean, make sure everything is in order?” Trevor asked, the red bag resting heavily on his lap. Julian glanced at him as he navigated the car through the streets of the Air Force base and out the main gate.

“He’ll check to make sure Riley’s uniform is in place, that nothing shifted during the flight, and he’ll arrange for touch-ups if needed before he’s viewed.”