Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

KEIR

I calledVale and left a message for him to call me so we could talk about Jonas’s fuck-up. Vale’s love life was the last thing I wanted to involve myself in, but I’d told Jonas I’d reach out and talk to Valentino, and I’d kept my word. What happened next between them wasn’t up to me.

I stepped over to the table where Mr. Green was resting and pulled back the sheet. “Mr. Green, I’m Keir Dearly. I’m sorry your life came to an end, but I promise to be respectful. If there’s something you’d like to discuss, I’m here and can hear you.”

I washed Mr. Green’s body to prepare him for embalming. Joachim had done a great job with his autopsy. The stitches were small and wouldn’t affect my tasks. Amelie had already arranged for a uniform to be delivered for his funeral and later burial at the Sacramento Valley National Cemetery.

“Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me where I am?” I turned toward the voice to see a young man’s spirit in camouflage near the stainless door that led to the garage.

I swallowed and pulled the sheet over Mr. Green’s head. I had a feeling it might traumatize my visitor to see himself like that. Death was an odd thing. I learned more about its emotional impact every time I had a guest.

I took off my gloves and turned toward the spirit. “You’re in Reardon, California. This is Dearly & Son Funeral Home. Do you know why you’re here?”

The spirit was handsome, and as I stared at it, I saw the vestiges of the man on the table. I was glad I’d covered the body so the young man wasn’t shocked. It was the first time I’d had a spirit show up whose appearance was so different from that of their corpse.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t.”

“Would you like to sit down, Sergeant?” His fatigues showed his rank, and I’d known the man on my table was a veteran.

I pointed to the chair by my computer desk, and the spirit took a seat. I moved around the table and removed the safety glasses I wore when working with a guest.

“Like I said, I’m Keir Dearly. This is my place of business. What brings you here, Sergeant? I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

The young man shot from the chair and snapped to attention. “Sergeant Horace Green, sir. I’m a member of the First Infantry Division. I was part of Operation Desert Shield, and Operation Desert Storm.”

The Gulf War. That entire era had been a dark time for all of us and a foreshadowing of worse things to come. I was more interested in learning why the man was homeless. What had happened to him that he was now out in the cold and without a family that I could find?

“Thank you for your service. Do you have a family?”

Sergeant Green stared off into the distance for a moment before a soft smile overtook his face. “I do. My wife’s name is Naomi. We have a daughter, Rachel.”

“And where do they live?” I needed the information to find his relatives. His personal possessions needed somewhere to go.

He appeared perplexed, so I asked again. “Where might I find your family, Sergeant Green?”

Sergeant Green grinned and tilted his head. “Why would you need to find them?”

God, I hated telling my guests bad news. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Sergeant Green closed his eyes. “I remember being with my unit. We were part of the ground offensive: Operation Desert Sabre. We were working with the coalition forces to surround the Iraqi military in Kuwait. We were advancing near Basra when we were ambushed. The truck I was riding in hit an IED. I suffered minor injuries and was redeployed a month later to the border between North and South Korea.”

I went to my computer and typed in the few things he’d mentioned. The events he’d described were early in 1991. “Can you remember what happened after that?”

Sergeant Green closed his eyes for a moment. “Fort Riley. The day we brought Rachel home from the hospital. She was beautiful.”

I glanced from my screen to see the spirit had aged. His hair was still short, and he was clean-shaven. He was wearing a pair of jeans and an Army T-shirt with a big red one on it. “What’s that stand for?” I pointed to the number on his shirt.

“The Big Red One. No Mission Too Difficult. No Sacrifice Too Great. Duty First! That’s our motto. We go in where others fear to tread.”

“Your daughter, Rachel, was born when?”

“December 2000. She was a little premature. Naomi had problems during her pregnancy that she didn’t tell me about because I was deployed to Kosovo. It was a hotbed of activity, and there were rumblings about Ben Laden. It was closer to Afghanistan if we were needed. I was given a week at home before I had to report back.”

“Okay, is that the last memory you have?” We were slowly getting there, or so I hoped.

The man’s outfit shifted back to camouflage. He was holding papers in his hand. “May 2003. I was deployed in Iraq. Naomi served me with divorce papers.”

The events of his life went on for another hour. He told me of significant experiences in his Army career. After the divorce, he got into a lot of trouble. He’d been busted in rank twice. When he returned to his rank of sergeant, he was diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury that caused his erratic behavior.

“When did you get discharged?” I was still trying to slow-walk him to the fact he was dead.

“2008. I was PCS’d to Sacramento MEPS. Uh, permanently assigned to process incoming soldiers. My CO sent me to get checked out by medical, and they did a brain scan. I have a brain injury, so I was honorably discharged.”

“Did you have a home then? What did you do for work after that?”

“I had nothing. No family. No friends. Once I got evicted from my apartment, I lived on the streets.” Sergeant Green now looked like the man on my table only not as old.

“I’m sorry to tell you that you passed away on a bench in Southside Park. Couldn’t you get help from the Veterans Administration?” I’d heard news reports that the VA was fucked up, but surely, he could have received assistance to at least have a roof over his head.

“You gotta want the help, Mr. Dearly. I didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. Over the years, I got hooked on heroin and overdosed a couple of times. I’ve been going to a methadone clinic since I got out of the hospital the last time, and a month ago, they sent me to a doctor because of my cough and shortness of breath. I had pneumonia. I guess not taking the antibiotics was a blessing. I didn’t have the balls to kill myself.”

My heart broke for him. “Didn’t you get a disability check from the VA for your brain injury?” Surely, they had to give him something for his years of service.

“Yeah, I had to stay clean for two days so I could open a bank account for the money to be deposited. I’ve never touched it.” Mr. Green walked over to the table and reached for the sheet, but he couldn’t grasp it. “Who’s under that?”

How the hell did I answer that?

“A, uh, a guest. If you have money, why didn’t you rent an apartment and find a counselor?” It was rude to ask something so private, but aside from the fact I couldn’t keep my damn nose out of his business, I had to know his reasons for sleeping on a park bench instead of in a warm bed.

“After I left the Army, I tried to find my daughter. I even hired a private detective, but he took my money and didn’t really search. I was heartbroken and wanted to feel better, so I started self-medicating. I started with alcohol until a guy I met showed me something better. One thing led to another, and I really didn’t give a shit anymore.”

What he’d described happened too many times. “What happens to your personal effects? Did you have a will or even a note to direct all that money to a friend or a charity? How’d you get money to buy drugs, Mr. Green?” My frustration was surfacing, which wasn’t fair to my guest. I knew nothing about him, and it was unfair of me to judge him for his life choices.

“I have life insurance through the VA and my daughter’s name is on my checking account. Everything goes to her if anyone can find her. I had no luck when I tried. Is that me?” Mr. Green pointed to the body on the table.

I’d stalled long enough. I slowly folded the sheet back for him to see his body. I reached out to touch him but quickly jerked my hand away. No need to send him away before I had a chance to help him. He didn’t seem to have had anyone in his life to do it for him.

I stepped back and respectfully waited until he had time to adjust—if that was possible. How would anyone feel after seeing their lifeless corpse?

After a few minutes, he glanced my way. I stepped forward and returned the sheet to rest over him. “Are you okay, Mr. Green?”

The spirit blew out a labored breath. “I’m a little confused, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve dealt with. What happens next?”

I decided that having his body in the embalming suite was the elephant in the room, so I unlocked the wheels on the cart and moved it into the walk-in, happy the thing hadn’t acted up again after Adonis fixed it.

When I stepped out and closed the door, Mr. Green—or rather Sergeant Green—stood at full attention in the middle of the room, head high and chest out. I wasn’t sure what had caused him to change his appearance, including his camo gear, but I wouldn’t interrupt whatever internal thoughts he was processing.

After a moment, he turned toward where I was standing. “You’re a kind man, Mr. Dearly. If you can give me some directions, I’ll leave you to your business. Where should I go now?”

“Actually, if you don’t mind sticking around for a little while, I’ll call a friend who might offer help. But Sergeant Green, I’d like to try to find your daughter. Could you give me any information you remember about her and her mother? I’ll try to make sure your daughter gets her inheritance. Let’s start with this.”

I reached for the manila envelope I’d placed on the desk and dumped the contents next to my keyboard. They were the things he’d had with him when he’d passed. Maybe if he could explain them, it would give me a place to start?

Sergeant Green stepped closer and studied the items in front of him. “That’s the money clip that belonged to my father. He was a captain in the Army. He’s the reason I enlisted out of high school. He was a real son of a bitch, but he was my dad. God, he’s a better father than me. I don’t even know where my child is.”

“Are your parents still alive?” I doubted it, but there might be a chance since no one had come to meet him when he passed.

“No. They died when I was in Germany on deployment. Uh, that’s my grandfather’s watch. It doesn’t work. That’s my wedding ring on the chain with my dog tags, and that key…I can’t remember what it goes to.”

I pulled out my phone and called Jonas. He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Keir. What can I help you with?”

“I have a spirit here who was offered no guidance. It’s a bit of an unusual situation. Can you come over? It’s Sergeant Horace Green.” I wish to hell Scotty was around!

“On my way.” The line went dead.

“I’ve called a friend to come over and give us a hand. He’ll be here in a⁠—”

The garage door rattled to life, so I went to the stainless door and stepped out, wondering where the hell Jonas hung out that he was there so quickly. When I stuck my head out, I saw it was Dash.

“Hey, babe. Have you been here all day?” Dash walked up the ramp and kissed my cheek.

“Yeah. I have a guest. I just called Jonas to come over. It’s a bit of an odd situation.”

We returned to the mortuary to find it empty. I rushed to the walk-in to see the gurney where Horace’s body was resting was empty too.

Where the hell had Horace Green gone?