Page 8 of SEAL's Doorstep Baby

My last thought provides a dash of amusement. Allison has made no secret of how she feels about me. She doesn’t like me, but I’m not her biggest fan either so it doesn’t mean much. She has always been Emily’s friend, dependable and trustworthy, but finding common ground has always been more difficult than it should be.

I can tell how much she cares about Maddison. Even having just spent a few minutes with them, I know just from knowing Emily how close she would have been raising Maddie with Allison. The two were always a pair; it’s an easy guess that they’d have become a trio.

A part of me is surprised that Emily didn’t choose Allison to take care of Maddie, if something happened to her. She obviously never got around to filing paperwork.

Ever since that night we spent together, I told myself I’d avoid spending time with Allison. There was no reason to upset Emily with what happened between us when it didn’t matter at all. But now, I know that’s changed. I can’t take Allison away from Maddie. I can’t take Maddie away from Allison.

Somehow, some way, I’m going to have to find a way to work with her.

A glance through the windshield tells me I am a couple of miles away from the hospital, and my mind returns to the reason I am going there.

This hospital is far off the route to both the airport and my house. This means that Emily had no reason to be on the freeway, but she was. I don’t know if I will ever crack that puzzle, and something tells me it is important.

But then again, you have thought many things were important when they weren’t.

My subconscious seems to enjoy tormenting me. I had not picked the force over Emily—my decision to remain active was based on several reasons, and taking care of her was one of them—but none of that seemed to matter to the part of my brain which couldn’t stop accusing me of it.

“It’s done.” I remind myself that it is done, she is already dead and there is no remedy to be had, nothing I can say or do will change that sad reality.

* * *

Arriving at the hospital, I find a space in the parking lot. After taking a few seconds and a deep breath to pull myself together, I make my way into the hospital.

Once I cross the threshold, I pause. I’m not actually sure where to go. Though I generally know my way around a hospital, I’ve never had to do this before.

Swallowing hard, I straighten, walking to the reception desk.

“Hello, ma’am. Good afternoon.”

“Good day, sir. How can I help you?” Nurse Becky—as identified by the plaque on her workstation—looks like everyone’s favorite grandma. With a silver crop of hair pulled back in a bun, and a kind expression, she is easy to talk to. I find myself relaxing.

“I’m here to identify Emily Fischer, a car crash victim who was brought here today, DOA. I was notified a couple of hours ago.”

The words come out stronger than I thought they would. I thought for sure there would be more stops, more swallows, more tears. But the task itself is easy enough to state, even if my insides feel like there are shards of glass inside me.

“Of course. Just a moment please.” She starts a search through her records. “Chief Petty Officer Jacob Fischer?” She has found Emily’s case file.

“Yes, that's me.”

Her face pinches. The gentle, grandmotherly shape of it makes me flinch.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, sir. So sorry.” I know she must have to deal with a lot of deaths so this must be run-of-the-millfor her, but I appreciate the concern she shows. I nod in time with her platitudes to acknowledge them, so she can continue providing the information I need. “You’ll need to make your way up to the medical examiner and then the coroner.”

I glance around, and she notices my confusion.

“Up to the third floor, follow the blue line, and then you’ll see the signs.”

Thanking her for the information, I make my way to the medical examiner.

The man is indifferent at best. His attitude is almost cavalier. Other people might describe him as callous, but I find it almost calming. Almost… kinder.

As someone who has also been around a fair amount of death, I can appreciate that this is not my sister anymore when he shares the details of her last moments with me. Crushed brain stem, fractured neck, and damaged spinal cord as the main cause of death.

She didn’t suffer; that’s something, at least.

He is not against a viewing—not that it would stop me if he was—so I make my way to the morgue so I can see her.

Even with all my training, this nearly drops me to my knees.

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