CHAPTER ELEVEN
As Riley watched the six uniformed men carry Sergeant Worthing’s flag-draped casket to the gravesite, she admired the solemn cadence and precision of their actions.
She was also struck by an eerie contrast between this ceremony and his actual death. The murder of Sergeant Worthing had been abrupt and brutal.
His funeral was elegance itself.
The military cemetery was in a lovely place, high on a hill in a remote part of Fort Nash Mowat. Riley could see the Pacific Ocean in the distance.
Riley, Lucy, and Bill were standing off to one side of the ceremony. She could see Sergeant Worthing’s widow and family seated on folding chairs beside the grave. She could watch the fifty uniformed young men and women in Worthing’s training platoon standing stiffly at attention.
She als
