Chapter 3

Dan drove the short distance to Cannifton, a small hamlet just to the north, outside Belleville. Dan parked in the driveway of Helen and Bob McCormack’s home, with Cathy taking his hand.

At the door, Cathy was immediately grilled with questions as to the whereabouts of Ben. Helen said Ben was supposed to come over and stay the night—something about Cathy and him having an argument at a wedding reception. She had been calling his cell phone, getting no answer.

Helen noticed Cathy’s eyes were red, and she was visibly shaken. She sat her down, fighting back tears, and told her and Bob that Ben had died in a car accident. The shriek from Helen was ear-piercing. She looked to Dan and Karen, who confirmed the awful news, having spoken to the police and visited the scene of the accident. She went to Bob and cried heavily on his shoulder. Cathy began to cry again.

Bob asked for details, tears streaming down his face, and Dan related all that he knew.

“I’ve got to see him! I’ve got to see for myself!” Helen stated it defiantly.

“We’re going to the hospital to see Ben,” Cathy mentioned.

“What were you two arguing about?” Helen asked.

“It doesn’t matter, Mom.”

“Yes, it does if your troubles were on his mind when he crashed.”

“Are you blaming me, saying that I made him crash the van and die?”

“I know you and him have had problems over the past several months. Ben didn’t go into details.”

“We were having disagreements about having more children,” she said, which was partially correct.

“I’ve lost my son; I feel I have to blame someone, and right now it’s you.”

“Would you prefer that we leave? It wasn’t just you who lost Ben. Sure, we had our problems, but he was my husband and Danny’s father. We should go to the hospital and see him.” She realized she didn’t say that Ben was Jessica’s father and feared Helen would say something.

They drove in separate cars and had to ask for directions to the morgue. They were asked to show identification, saying they were the immediate family of Ben McCormack.

They were taken to another room and waited. Moments later, Ben’s sheet-coved body was wheeled into the room.

“I’m Doctor Brewer, the hospital’s pathologist. I’m sorry for your loss.” He pulled the sheet back to his shoulders. Cathy and Helen broke down in tears, and Bob’s chin quivered as tears flowed. Ben’s face showed the results of the fatal crash: a slightly deformed skull, several cuts with dried blood, and several bruises. “I apologize for his appearance. We did clean his face.”