Chapter 3 - THE MAN IN THE NAVY SUIT
I waited until Nora returned from the cockpit before saying anything else.
She came running toward me with both hands raised.
“Daddy! I saw all the buttons!”
I smiled.
“Did you touch anything?”
She looked offended.
“No.”
The captain appeared behind her.
“She was very responsible.”
I looked at him.
“Thank you.”
Then Nora whispered, “And Captain Mason showed me where the airplane talks to the people on the ground.”
I laughed.
“That's pretty impressive.”
Captain Mason smiled.
Then his expression changed when he noticed the navy-suited passenger standing several rows away.
“Mr. Harlan,” he said.
The man turned.
“I'd like a word with you.”
Harlan approached.
“What is this about?”
Captain Mason held the seating authorization in his hand.
“Who requested the reassignment?”
Harlan's jaw tightened.
“I have no idea.”
“Your corporate travel office submitted the request.”
“I didn't personally submit anything.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Harlan stared at him.
“I said I don't know.”
Captain Mason nodded.
“Then we'll find out.”
Harlan looked irritated.
“This is a major misunderstanding.”
“Perhaps.”
Captain Mason turned away.
Harlan's eyes briefly met mine.
There was something cold in them.
Not embarrassment.
Not anger.
Calculation.
I had seen that look before.
On people who were deciding whether you were useful.
I moved Nora closer.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Why is that man staring at us?”
I looked down.
“He's probably wondering why you're so much better behaved than he is.”
She giggled.
Harlan didn't.
A few minutes later, the flight attendant announced that boarding would be delayed while the airline resolved an administrative issue.
Passengers began whispering.
Captain Mason returned to me.
“I've asked security to review the seating change.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then he looked at my prosthetic leg.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did you receive any unusual calls or letters recently?”
My stomach tightened.
“No.”
“Anything about your old military records?”
I thought about it.
Then remembered the envelope that had arrived two weeks earlier.
A plain white envelope.
No return address.
Inside had been a photocopy of an old military medical document.
I had thrown it away.
At the time, I assumed it was some bureaucratic mistake.
Now I wasn't so sure.
“I got something strange,” I said.
Captain Mason leaned closer.
“What?”
“A copy of an old medical record.”
“From whom?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you still have it?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Then don't worry about it yet.”
I stared at him.
“You don't sound convinced.”
“I'm not.”
Before I could respond, Harlan's phone rang.
He walked toward the galley.
I watched him.
Then I noticed something.
The phone wasn't ringing loudly.
But I could hear a voice through the speaker.
A woman's voice.
I couldn't make out the words.
Harlan turned his back.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“No. He's already here.”
I looked at Captain Mason.
He had heard it too.
Harlan ended the call.
When he turned around, our eyes met.
He knew I had been watching.
He smiled.
It was the first time he had smiled at me.
And I didn't like it.
Captain Mason stepped between us.
“Mr. Harlan.”
“Yes?”
“You'll need to remain seated.”
Harlan's smile disappeared.
“Of course.”
The plane eventually departed.
Nora fell asleep against the window before we reached cruising altitude.
I sat beside her, staring out into the clouds.
My mind kept returning to the same question.
Why me?
I wasn't important.
I wasn't famous.
I wasn't wealthy.
I owned a modest house, worked part-time doing equipment inspections, and spent most evenings helping Nora with homework.
The military had been another life.
A life I had tried very hard to leave behind.
So why would someone dig through old records to find me?
I reached into my wallet.
Daniel's letter was still there.
I read it again.
Then I noticed something I hadn't seen before.
The date.
Three years ago.
The same month my disability paperwork disappeared.
The same month a contractor had tried to contact me about an “administrative discrepancy.”
I looked toward Harlan.
He was asleep.
Or pretending to be.
I lowered my voice.
“Captain.”
Mason turned.
“Yes?”
“Do you know the company Harlan works for?”
He hesitated.
“Mercer Defense Logistics.”
My stomach dropped.
I knew that name.
Not personally.
But I knew the contract.
They had supplied transportation and equipment for several overseas operations.
Including mine.
“What do they have to do with me?”
“I don't know.”
“But you think they do.”
He looked toward the sleeping passengers.
Then lowered his voice.
“Three years ago, there was an internal investigation involving missing equipment from your unit.”
I stared at him.
“I was never told about an investigation.”
“Because it never became public.”
“What was missing?”
“Medical evacuation equipment.”
I felt cold.
“That makes no sense.”
Mason nodded.
“That's what everyone thought.”
“What happened?”
He looked at me.
“The investigation disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“The files were sealed.”
I glanced at Nora.
She was still sleeping.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because my son was there.”
His voice became quieter.
“And because Daniel told me something I never understood until today.”
“What?”
“He said the night of the attack, before the explosion, you accused someone of tampering with the convoy.”
My heart stopped.
I searched my memory.
Smoke.
Rain.
Metal.
A radio crackling.
A smell of fuel.
I remembered yelling.
But I didn't remember why.
“I don't remember saying that.”
“Daniel does.”
I stared at him.
“Who did I accuse?”
Mason looked toward Harlan.
“That's what Daniel never told me.”
My skin prickled.
Then Harlan opened his eyes.
He was watching us.
He stood.
Walked slowly toward our row.
Captain Mason immediately turned.
“Mr. Harlan, please return to your seat.”
“I need to speak to Mr. Barrett.”
“No.”
Harlan ignored him.
He looked directly at me.
“Sergeant Barrett.”
I felt Nora stir beside me.
“What?”
His voice was quiet.
“You should stop asking questions.”
Captain Mason stepped forward.
“That's enough.”
Harlan smiled.
“You have no idea what you're involved in.”
I stood as much as my prosthetic allowed.
“What does that mean?”
He leaned closer.
“It means the past should stay buried.”
Then he walked away.
My heart pounded.
Nora woke.
“Daddy?”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Are we in trouble?”
I forced a smile.
“No.”
But for the first time since Clara died, I had the strange feeling that someone was following us.
And when the plane landed in North Carolina three hours later, that feeling became much worse.
Because the first person waiting near baggage claim wasn't our rental-car representative.
It was a man wearing a dark jacket.
He was holding a photograph.
And when he saw me, he held it up.
The photograph showed me three years earlier.
Standing beside the burning convoy.
May you like
And beneath my picture, someone had written four words.
HE REMEMBERS TOO MUCH.
