Page 95 of Embrace Me Forever

“A hiker and his dog stumbled upon it. Quite accidental,” Harris explains. “Given the remote location, it’s unlikely it would have been discovered otherwise. The grave was shallow, the earth disturbed. Our forensics team was brought in immediately.”

Georgia-May looks back at the photo, her eyes tracing the landscape.

Detective Harris takes a deep breath, then says, “You mentioned in our previous correspondence that you wished to view Mr. Langford’s remains. I’ve coordinated with the coroner to facilitate this. However?—”

“Is there any problem?” Georgia-May quivers.

“Ms. Williams, I must strongly advise against proceeding, considering the conditions. It has been over two years. We’ve meticulously reconstructed the remains and captured detailed photographs. They offer almost as comprehensive a view as an in-person examination.”

“I understand, Detective, but I’m his only family,” she insists, composure in her tone.

“It can be quite distressing, Ms. Williams. May I also remind you that we have yet to identify a DNA match. There is still a chance that these are not the remains of Mr. Langford.”

“I want to see him,” she insists.

Detective Harris turns to me as if I hold the deciding vote.

“I’ll be there with her, Detective. She’ll be fine,” I assure her, my hand intertwined with Georgia-May’s.

The detective stands up. “Very well. Come with me.”

We follow Harris’ car to the local hospital. She leads us through the corridors, and I keep a firm grip on Georgia-May’shand the entire way. The sight of the mortuary sign sends chills down my spine, and I can only imagine how Georgia-May must be feeling.

We pause outside the mortuary doors. Harris stops, her expression somber. “I need to prepare you,” she begins, her voice low and measured. “The procedure inside is clinical, but we strive to handle everything with the utmost respect and care. Dr. Reynolds, our coroner, will guide you through.”

Dr. Reynolds is a middle-aged man with compassionate eyes. “Please, come in,” he greets, leading us to a small viewing area separated by glass from the main examination room.

Georgia-May grips my arm, her face a mask of composure. I squeeze her hand reassuringly as we approach the glass. Detective Harris stays behind us.

Dr. Reynolds speaks from the other side, his voice clear through the intercom. “We have taken every precaution to respect the remains.” With a press of a button, a section of the curtain slides back to reveal a form on the examination table, covered by a white sheet.

Dr. Reynolds continues, “When you’re ready, I will remove the sheet for you to view the remains.”

After a pause, Georgia-May gives a signal. The coroner carefully draws back the cover.

The skeletal remains, though handled with care, outline the reality of the situation. Georgia-May’s breath hitches, but she remains silent. There is a clear bullet wound on the skull, just above his mouth.

“We’ve reconstructed as best we can,” Dr. Reynolds explains.

Georgia-May leans forward slightly, her eyes searching for something only she might recognize. A confirmation of a dreaded truth.

Dr. Reynolds waits patiently, his demeanor understanding but professional. “Do you recognize the clothing?” he asks with measured intent.

Georgia-May quivers slightly, “Yes. That was what he was wearing that night,” she confirms, her gaze fixed on Sebastian’s skull.

“The gender and estimated age of the remains align with Sebastian Langford,” Dr. Reynolds continues, adjusting his glasses as he reviews his notes. “However, the DNA did not match any records in our database. Is there anything specific you can tell me about Mr. Langford that might assist in further identification?”

I sense there’s an unspoken question hanging in the air, a hint of doubt perhaps suggesting the remains might have been tampered with, a body swapped and dressed to deceive.

“His pacemaker,” Georgia-May says.

The coroner nods slowly. “Yes. We found a pacemaker inside.”

At this confirmation, Georgia-May’s composure breaks. Tears stream down her cheeks as she turns slightly away from the window. Her past with Sebastian, a blend of joy and sorrow, seems to crash over her all at once.

I place my arm around her shoulders. She leans into me, her body shaking with sobs. Her tears are for a past love lost too soon, a chapter of her life marked by both tenderness and pain. Yes, she loved him, but it’s me she’s holding on to now. And that’s an honor.

Dr. Reynolds covers the remains once more. He says solemnly, “We will give you a few moments.”

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