Paul stood there, unable to move. “Time of death: 1:12 a.m.”
It echoed in her skull like a gavel.
Noah stepped forward, voice even but edged with steel. “Paul, your patient is a crime scene now. I’ll get the medical examiner on the phone.”
Charlotte barely heard the rest. All she could see was Henry’s face. And all she could think was, they did this. And someone is going to pay.
An hour later,the door swung open again, this time with a brisk but practiced movement. Molly Everhart, the medical examiner, entered, flanked by two of her forensic assistants. Her presence brought an air of finality with it. She was the one who would uncover the secrets Henry Byron had been hiding all these years. She took in the scene with a sharp, professional glance, her expression unreadable.
“Molly,” Charlotte walked forward as if pulled by some invisible thread, her hands wringing together, “Ethan’s aunt is still with Wyatt?"
Molly’s voice cut through the quiet. “Yeah, for now.” Her expression gentled as she stepped forward and hugged hermother. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mom. Liv said she had a vague memory of Henry. Sophie and I don’t remember him.”
Charlotte stood near the doorway, arms crossed, watching the aftermath unfold with a strange detachment. The trauma bay, moments ago filled with urgency and noise, was now subdued, the fluorescent lights making everything look flat and clinical. Henry's body—what was left of him—lay motionless on the stretcher, a reminder of how fragile the line was between survival and surrender.
Charlotte nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
Molly’s tone shifted, professional and firm. “You should head to bed. I’ll make sure everything’s taken care of.” Her gaze flicked to Henry’s body. In an instant, her demeanor changed back to the coroner, the leader.
“Take photos,” Molly said, addressing her team. “Get every angle. We’ll need them. Once we’ve documented everything, wrap the body and transport it to the morgue. We’ll need to conduct the autopsy as soon as possible.”
Charlotte watched her daughter with a quiet mix of pride and sorrow. She'd seen that look before—Molly's no-nonsense work mode. It made her feel like she could breathe again.
Paul returned to the room with Tristan in tow. They both greeted Molly with a quiet hug, heavy with what had just happened.
“I’ll need Henry’s signed medical record,” Molly told them. “The full chart. I’ll take it from here.”
Paul gave her a nod. “It’s all in there.”
“I’ll sign off too,” Tristan added.
Charlotte caught the exchange, the layers of exhaustion on Paul’s face. He didn’t need to say it, but she knew he was carrying this death like an anchor.
Molly turned back to her team. “Take every measurement. I want the most detailed records possible. This is going to be thorough.”
Charlotte stepped back, letting the rhythm of the process take over. Molly was in control now. For the first time in hours, Charlotte allowed herself to step away, her body suddenly aware of how much it ached.
“We’re ready.” Molly signaled her team to begin preparing Henry’s body for transport.
Charlotte watched for one more beat before turning toward the hallway. She needed air. And answers.
Alex guided Charlotte out of the emergency department and into the cold night air. She shivered as he helped her into the car. Once inside, the silence pressed down on her. Finally, she whispered, “He’s been gone for thirty years, and now he’s gone again. Alex, is this our fault? Did we miss something? Was our original investigation into his disappearance shoddy?”
Alex reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “You need sleep. Tomorrow, we go back to square one.”
She turned her head toward him, searching his face. “And then what?”
“Maybe Molly will find some forensic evidence.”
“It’s starting. This is what I was afraid of. My girls are becoming involved.”
“Charlotte, Molly is doing her job. They all love you. One way or another, they would be involved.”
She pulled her jacket closer and looked out into the dark night. “Alex, I want to go home.”
He pulled to the side of the road, put the car into park, and turned to face Charlotte. His hand caressed her cheek. “Bailey is at Sophie and Tristan’s. The house was ransacked. It’s going to take time to process.”
Charlotte exhaled. She turned away from Alex and said nothing more.
