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He knew, somehow, the moment the phone rang, what the call would be about, but Alex is at the phone before he even has a chance to stand. A look passes over his son's face, and his small hand suddenly grips the cord like it's a lifeline, knuckles turning white from the strain of it.
When Henry goes to him he all but shoves the offending piece of plastic into his chest and storms out of the room. Henry hopes he goes upstairs to his room so he doesn't have to hear what he expects to be the most difficult phone call he's ever had to take in his life.
"Hello? Mr. Emily speaking."
"Mr. Emily? This is the Washington County coroner's office. A body was found and we need you to come up and possibly identify it, if you can come in today the office is open until 6, or we can set up an appointment if you need time to prepare."
Henry's blood runs cold and he has to force himself to focus so he can answer.
"No, I'll... I'd like to come in today."
"Alright, that's fine. You can bring someone with you if you want, but I'd recommend you view the body by yourself."
"No, it'll just be me."
The coroner gives him the address and he writes it down without even registering what he's written, and he manages to end the call without breaking down, but he can feel his resolve start to crack. The very idea that they might have found his baby... It's enough to make him sick.
A sudden slam of a door upstairs startles him out of his thoughts, and he has to pause a moment. After taking his glasses off to rub tiredly at his eyes, then replacing them, he makes his way upstairs, stopping in front of Alex's closed door. He thinks he can hear sniffling, though muffled, and his heart aches.
"Alex, I'm going out for something very important, and I need you to stay here and let mama know if I'm not back before she gets home, alright?" He says, leaning his forehead against the door. Alex doesn't answer, but he didn't expect him to. He knows he's been heard, though, and with a sigh, turns away to head back downstairs and mentally prepare himself for what he has to do.
The drive to the coroner's office feels excruciatingly long, quiet. Henry has never hated being alone with his thoughts more than he does right now. By the time the building comes into view and he steps out of his car to go up to the entrance, there's a tremor in his steps he's trying desperately to ignore.
It might not be her, he tells himself. As horrible as it is to imagine someone else's little girl might be inside, there's still a selfish side of him that hopes he can't identify the body. He hopes they'll find her simply wandering and lost somewhere, but whole and safe. Alive. So he can hold her in his arms and tell her he'll never let anything like this happen again, that he'll make sure she's always safe.
There's a middle-aged woman behind the reception counter when he walks in, and she smiles cheerfully as he walks up, kindly not remarking on his inability to return her smile. It must be tough, he thinks idly, having this kind of job and dealing with grieving families constantly. He couldn't do it.
"Mr. Emily?" She asks, and his mouth is too dry for speaking, so he simply nods. She types something into her computer, then stands, ushering Henry to follow her through a door leading further into the building. She knocks on an office door, waving through the little window at the man seated at the desk inside, then pats Henry gently on the arm as she turns to walk back to the reception area.
"Sam'll take you back, if you need any resources before you leave don't hesitate to let me know, hon." He nods again, then waits patiently as the man he assumes is the coroner, Sam, emerges from the little office, following behind as he motions after him.
"I have to be upfront with you, Mr. Emily, even if you can't identify, this is going to be difficult to see. Decomposition sets in a lot more quickly than most people realize, and that's not considering things like the weather and such, so before we go in, I have to ask if you are sure you're ready for this." Sam says, pausing in front of a set of double doors. Henry somehow manages to find his voice, though it's a slight struggle to get the words out.
"If I can be frank, sir, whether I'm ready doesn't matter, I just need to know if that's my baby girl or not."
Sam sighs, then nods, a knowing sort of look in his eyes that makes Henry feel like his own soul is getting ripped out through his feet, but he grits his teeth silently and follows the man into the room.
It's cold, colder than he expects, and he shivers involuntarily, then freezes in place when he sees the metal examining table and the too-small sheet-covered body laying on it. He feels sick again but eventually forces himself to walk up beside Sam, hands in trembling fists at his sides as the coroner carefully pulls the sheet back to reveal the tiny figure underneath.
His first reaction is not one of recognition but of horror. A cry sticks, lodges itself in his throat, as the initial reaction fades and he picks up on little things. And then Sam turns the body, lifting it slightly to point out a faint pink mark barely visible on the back of her neck, just peeking out past the hairline, and the sight of her familiar angel's kiss birthmark sends the sob rocketing out of his body.
He reaches out, hesitantly, glancing at Sam first who nods, and then he takes hold of her hand as gently as he can. Words slip out before he can stop them, repeating and falling over each other in a torrent he can do little to hold back.
"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry daddy wasn't there to protect you. I should've been there, I'm sorry."
He crumples in on himself, has to let go as he falls to the floor and just sobs, face in his hands. Dimly, he's aware of Sam kneeling by his side, his hand warm on his back, as comforting as is possible in the given situation. He doesn't know how long he cries, only that when the tears finally stop he feels like he has emptied himself only to fill up the hollow space with pain so pure and blinding he can't think around it.
Sometime between the start of his outburst and the end of it, Sam had managed to lead him to another room, and he only comes back to himself when something hot and steaming is placed in his hands. Hot cocoa, Sam tells him quietly, and Henry lets out strangled noise in place of actual words. He blows on the drink, sips it, lets the warmth seep back into his fingers and toes, listens as Sam starts to go over Henry's options, but he's barely listening. He tells him as much, and Sam nods, understanding written plain on his face, then quietly gives him a few pamphlets to take home.
"When you decide on funeral arrangements, just give the location our info and we'll handle the transportation details. You have a very tough time ahead of you, but you aren't alone, don't forget that." Sam says as they walk back to the entrance, and Henry nods, unable to give any other kind of response. The man gives a tired wave as Henry heads out the door and back to his car, but he can't bring himself to return it. It's all he can do to focus on getting in his car and starting it up so he can make the long drive home.