Chapter 4 - A Witness Who Wouldn't Speak
By morning, I had made three decisions.
I would not delete Nathan's recordings.
I would not confront Major Brant alone.
And I would stop assuming that every Marine who remained silent was protecting him.
The third decision was the hardest.
Nathan had taught me that silence could mean a hundred different things.
Fear.
Loyalty.
Confusion.
Shame.
Sometimes it meant a person was trying to survive long enough to tell the truth.
I didn't know which one applied to Sergeant Price.
But I intended to find out.
I met him behind the base exchange at 0630.
He arrived in uniform, carrying a paper cup of coffee.
“You shouldn't have contacted me last night,” he said.
“You shouldn't have hung up.”
He looked toward the parking lot.
“Lower your voice.”
“Tell me what happened.”
Price rubbed his forehead.
“You think this is simple.”
“I think Nathan is dead.”
His expression tightened.
“I know.”
“Then help me.”
He looked away.
For several seconds, the only sound was a delivery truck idling near the loading dock.
Finally, Price spoke.
“The movement was supposed to end before sunset. We had an approved route and a safety plan.”
“Then Brant changed it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know everything.”
“What do you know?”
Price took a breath.
“There was supposed to be an evaluation team observing a portion of the exercise. Brant wanted to demonstrate that his Marines could operate under difficult conditions.”
“Even after the weather warning?”
“He believed the conditions were manageable.”
“Did Nathan agree?”
“No.”
The word was barely audible.
I stared at him.
“Then why did they go?”
“Because the order came from the commanding officer.”
I felt anger rise in my chest.
“You could have refused.”
Price's eyes flashed.
“You think I haven't asked myself that every day?”
I stopped.
He looked exhausted.
Older than thirty-one.
“Reed argued for nearly ten minutes,” he said. “He wanted the movement delayed. Brant told him the decision had been made.”
“What happened on the ridge?”
Price looked over my shoulder.
A military police vehicle passed on the road.
He waited until it disappeared.
“Visibility dropped. The ground was wet. One Marine slipped near a steep section of trail.”
“Nathan?”
“No.”
My heart hammered.
“Who?”
Price hesitated.
“Lance Corporal Daniel Mercer.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“He wasn't on the roster.”
Price closed his eyes.
And I knew.
The thirteenth man.
“Mercer was attached to the movement at the last minute,” Price said. “His assignment paperwork hadn't caught up.”
“Was he hurt?”
“Yes.”
“How badly?”
“Bad enough that Reed went back for him.”
I stared.
“Nathan went back?”
Price nodded.
“He could hear Mercer calling for help.”
“What happened?”
“Reed slipped while trying to reach him.”
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
For three weeks, I'd imagined Nathan falling alone in the dark.
Now I pictured him moving toward another Marine.
Trying to help.
Doing exactly what he would have done.
“Why wasn't Mercer mentioned in the report?”
Price's face closed.
“I can't answer that.”
“Can't or won't?”
“Erin—”
“Is he alive?”
Price looked directly at me.
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
I didn't believe him.
He saw that.
“Listen to me,” he said. “There are people who can review this properly. Take what you have to them. Don't turn it into a public confrontation.”
“Are you willing to make a statement?”
Price looked down.
His silence answered.
I stepped back.
“Nathan trusted you.”
Pain crossed his face.
“I know.”
“Then give me one reason I should.”
Price reached into his pocket.
For one moment, I thought he was going to hand me something.
Instead, he pulled out his phone.
He showed me a photograph.
A hospital room.
A young Marine lying in bed with his left leg supported by a brace.
His face was bruised.
His eyes were open.
“Daniel Mercer,” Price said.
Then he enlarged the image.
On the bedside table sat a familiar metal object.
A polished command coin.
The same kind Brant had tried to give me at Nathan's funeral.
May you like
Price whispered:
“Mercer received that coin the day after Reed died.”
