The Hidden Compartment
“Yes.”
“You said nothing.”
“I said nothing.”
I stood up. I walked eleven steps down the seawall and stood there with my back to him, and a man on a boat two slips over lifted a hand to me and I lifted one back, which is the strangest thing my body has ever done without consulting me.
“Why?”
And my father, who taught me cryptography before he taught me to ride a bike, gave me the answer, and I want it on the record exactly as he said it, because he did not soften one word of it and I have decided that was the last respectful thing he ever did for me.