He had seventy-four million dollars, and he chose, every single day for twenty years, to live in a bare little room with two shirts and a secondhand radio, because the alternative was a risk to you.

He traded his entire life, all its comfort, all its ease, all the years he might have lived like a free and wealthy man, for your safety.

That was the price, and he paid it in full, without complaint, without you ever knowing, right up to the last hour.”

Chapter 23 — The Men Who Framed Him

There was one more thing I needed to know, and I made myself ask it, standing there on the bluff with the cold wind pulling at my coat.

“What happens to them,” I said.