David wrote that he wouldn’t alter an active military audit file for anybody, and that the investigation would go forward no matter how much the family pushed.

I held the letter under the green light for a long time, reading David’s firm, dark handwriting until the words were burned into my memory.

They hadn’t come here to comfort me.

They hadn’t come to Oak Ridge to look after a pregnant widow or help sort out old bills after a family tragedy.

They had come to destroy David’s work.

They needed physical control of the Elmwood Lane house because the secure terminal in this room held the digital audit ledger and the main backup drives.