Page 96 of You're the Reason

William Roger Warner.

His dad’s face in the official photo held a serious expression, but still carried his characteristic kindness in the eyes. The close-cropped brown hair brought back memories of joyous homecomings from a deployment, and sad farewells for the next.

He lifted the photo again. The top of the paper read: Official Military Personnel File.He’d had no idea what to think when he found a large envelope from the Department of Defense in his mailbox this morning.He’dpeeked inside, been unable to breathe for a minute, then decided tobringit with him to look through it here. Seemed fitting. That he had found it on his way to thecemeterywas too much to be a coincidence. This was a gift from God.

After what seemed like forever, he began leafing his way through his father’s military life with his one free hand, the other still trailing over the ornate ribbon. Most of it was mundane administrative stuff, but it was a treasure to him. Farther on, the tears began again as a new picture of his dad formed.

. . . posthumously awarded the Army Distinguished Service Cross . . .

. . . for extraordinary acts of heroism . . .

... despite having received wounds of his own,CplWarner refused evacuation, returning to the line of fire twice to rescue wounded comrades ...

. . . pronounced dead on arrival at base medical facility . . .

His dad was a hero.

The last page was in reference to a one-time replacement of service medal.No doubt his mom had hocked the first one.

Seth opened his other hand and studied the intricate details of the golden cross. He ran his thumb over the golden eagle that was superimposed on it then drew a deep breath as he focused back on the grave.

William Roger Warner. Husband, father, and hero of our country.

Now that felt like an understatement.

He placed the medal on the photo and dropped it all back in the envelope to keep it clean. Leaning forward, he brushed away a few leaves that stuck to the surface of the gravestone. His life could’ve shaped up so differently had his father lived. Not just his life, but his mom’s. She hadn’t cooperated with the police once she’d sobered up, and they couldn’t hold her on anything more than a drunk and disorderly charge.

Movement to the left caught his eye and he froze. Gabe stood over Gregory’s grave. His head low. Had it been just four days since the two had been in jail together? Seth stood, and the two men locked eyes.

“So the rumors are true.” Seth took a few steps toward his old friend. He didn’t know the details, but it didn’t matter.

Gabe’s parents had gotten him off because of a lack of evidence connecting him to the theft or the drugs. Gabe had been careful not to leave prints in the car, that was for certain. All they had was Zane’s testimony, but even if there was some way to corroborate that to make the charges stick, all Hammond could slap Gabe with for that was contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Max punishment was five hundred dollars or ninety days in jail. Or a deal with the DA.

Gabe always came out on top. What burned Seth most was for a second there, he thought he might have actually gotten through to him in the cell. “Must have been some deal.”

“I gave them some names. I do make friends in low places.” Gabe shifted his gaze back to his brother’s headstone then back to Seth. “I also told them more about a crime from a few years back. It didn’t affect my deal, but they did seem pleased to set the record straight.”

“Well, I hope you do something good with your freedom.”

Seth turned away, but Gabe’s voice came again, stopping him. “Turns out a guy convicted of possession with the intent to distribute, didn’t actually distribute.”

A cool chill ran through Seth as he spun to lock eyes with Gabe. “What are you talking about?”

Gabe shoved his hands in his pockets and stared off for a moment as if he couldn’t handle meeting Seth’s gaze. “Gregory brought his own stuff that night.”

“What are you saying?”

“When he called to ask where we were”—Gabe met Seth’s eyes—“he told me he’d bought them off a kid at college.”

So many emotions hit Seth at once, the world seemed to spin around him. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees and took a calming breath. Then another.

He hadn’t killed Gregory. It hadn’t been his fault. He’d been dumb, but the blood wasn’t on his hands. As the relief passed over him, it was replaced by the same unwelcome rage he’d felt the day of the fight. It welled in his stomach. He stood and took a step toward Gabe. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“Because I was mad.” He turned his head to the sky a moment before locking gazes with Seth again. “I was mad at myself for not stopping him. I was mad at the unfairness of it all. You and I spent half our senior year high, and Gregory has one bad night and he’s dead.”

What could he say to that? It was true, and the same thoughts had crossed Seth’s mind a hundred times.

“After you were arrested, my parents sent me to a facility in Detroit for six weeks.”

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