“It must have been devastating for you.”

“I was pretty young,” he said with a shrug, “and the whole thing was exciting, what with the Air Force brass and the president sending messages. I never saw my father much anyway. During the war he was away a lot.” He paused. “Actually, it really hit me when I discovered he wasn't dead.”

“You're saying your father wasn't killed in a crash?”

“He looked quite healthy when I saw him at Arlington Cemetery.”

"You're talking about seeing him in the coffin, you mean

“No. He was watching the funeral from a distance.”

Austin scrutinized Martin's face, not sure what he was looking for.

Detecting no sign of dementia, he said, “I'd like to hear about it.”

Martin broke out into a broad grin. “I've been waiting more than forty years to hear somebody say those words.” He stared into space as if he could see the scene playing out on an invisible screen. “I still remember the little things. It was in the spring, and robins were flitting around. I can recall the way the sun reflected off the buttons on the Air Force uniforms, the smell of new-cut grass and earth. I was standing by the casket, next to my mother, holding her hand, squirming in my suit because it was so hot and the collar was tight. The minister was going on and on in this droning voice. Everyone had their eyes on him.” He took a deep breath as his memory drifted back in time. “I saw a movement, a bird maybe, and looked beyond the crowd. A man had stepped away from a tree. He was dressed in dark clothes. He was too far away for me to see his face, but there was no mistaking him. My father had a funny way of standing on one leg, kinda crooked. Old football injury.”

“What was he doing?”

“Nothing. He just stood there. I knew he was staring at me. Then he raised his right arm a little, as if he were about to wave. Two men came up beside him. They talked. It looked as if they were arguing. Then they all walked away. I tried to get my mother's attention, but she shushed me.”

“You're sure it wasn't the wishful thinking of a distraught boy?”

“Yes. I was so certain that after the funeral I told my mother what I had seen. It only made her cry. I'll never forget those tears. I never brought it up again. She was young enough and re married. My stepfather was a nice guy. He was successful in business, and they had a good life. They were very happy for many years.” He laughed. “I was my father's kid. My mother tried to talk me out of flying, but I became a pilot. This thing has burned in me all that time. I made inquiries but never got anywhere. I was convinced the truth would never come out. Then you show up and start asking questions.”