One of them was Harrison.
They were much younger.
Mud covered their uniforms.
Their arms rested over each other’s shoulders.
My father looked happy.
Not the tired father I remembered.
Young.
Strong.
Alive.
Behind the photograph was a military document stamped:
CLASSIFIED – SENTINEL PROGRAM.
Another contained my parents’ names.
Daniel Joseph Parker.
Grace Evelyn Parker.
Then came a death certificate.
I stared at it.
The date was wrong.
My father had supposedly died on October 18, 2014.
The document said:
September 2, 2014.
Six weeks earlier.
My mouth went dry.
“There must be some mistake.”
“There isn’t,” Harrison said.
We were sitting inside a secure conference room twenty minutes later.
Colonel Mercer had cleared the building.
Only Harrison, two military investigators, Mercer, and I remained.
I pushed the document across the table.
“My father died in a car accident with my mother.”
Harrison looked at me for a long moment.
“No.”
The word landed like a hammer.
“What do you mean, no?”
“Your father died overseas.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I was there.”
Every sound in the room disappeared.
Harrison leaned forward.
“Daniel Parker was killed during a classified operation forty-six days before the accident recorded on your civilian documents.”
I stood so suddenly my chair scraped backward.
