Chapter 1 — The Envelope on the Memorial Table
The memorial hall was crowded by the time Rebecca noticed the envelope.
Flowers surrounded a large photograph of her late father, Henry Wallace.
Old friends stood in small groups sharing stories.
Former students had traveled from three different states.
Henry had spent thirty-eight years teaching high-school history.
He had also coached baseball.
To most people in Riverton, he had been impossible to forget.
Rebecca stood near the memorial table when something caught her eye.
A plain cream envelope.
No stamp.
No return address.
Only one handwritten word:
THOMAS.
Rebecca picked it up.
Her husband was speaking with guests nearby.
She walked over.
“This was left on the table.”
Thomas frowned.
“For me?”
“Apparently.”
He opened it.
Inside was a handwritten card.
Neither recognized the writing.
It read:
Ask Grant Mercer why Henry stopped going to Field 4.
Then:
Ask him what happened to the blue equipment bag.
Thomas looked toward Rebecca.
“Who’s Grant Mercer?”
Rebecca’s expression changed.
“Dad’s old assistant coach.”
Thomas knew the name now.
Grant had worked beside Henry for nearly fifteen years.
He was expected at the memorial.
Rebecca looked at the envelope again.
“This wasn’t here when we arrived.”
Thomas immediately looked toward the security camera mounted near the hall entrance.
“Then somebody put it there.”
The building manager agreed to show them the recording.
The footage began at 9:12 that morning.
The memorial hall was almost empty.
Then a young man entered.
Early twenties.
Brown jacket.
Black backpack.
He looked nervous.
He walked toward Henry’s photograph.
Stood there for several seconds.
Then bent down.
And placed the envelope beneath the edge of the guest book.
Thomas paused the footage.
“That’s it.”
Rebecca stared at the young man.
“I don’t know him.”
Then movement appeared behind them.
The same young man from the video was standing near the rear wall.
He had apparently stayed for the service.
Thomas turned toward him.
“Excuse me.”
The young man looked frightened.
Then suddenly his eyes moved past Thomas.
Toward the entrance.
His face changed completely.
He raised one hand.
“That’s him!”
Everyone nearby turned.
An older man in a dark suit had just walked into the hall.
Rebecca recognized him immediately.
Grant Mercer.
The young man pointed straight at him.
“That’s the man Coach Henry told me never to trust with the truth.”