“I want to know everything.”
Diana nodded.
“You will.”
“Why did Dad trust Briggs?”
“Because Briggs saved his life once.”
“That's it?”
“No.”
Diana looked down.
“They had been through things together.”
Hank added:
“Frank believed loyalty was something you earned over time.”
“And Briggs proved him wrong.”
“Yes.”
Sarah looked at Hank.
“Were you there when they killed him?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know what happened?”
“I saw him afterward.”
Sarah looked away.
“What did he look like?”
Hank didn't answer immediately.
“Like someone who had spent every last piece of strength on something that mattered.”
Sarah's eyes filled.
“Was he afraid?”
“No.”
“You're sure?”
“He was afraid of one thing.”
“What?”
“That Cutter would find you.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
Diana reached for her hand.
“He never knew your name?”
“He knew it.”
“He knew me?”
“He knew you were coming.”
Sarah looked confused.
“He had already chosen your name.”
“What?”
“Sarah.”
She stared.
“You're named after his grandmother.”
Sarah looked down.
She had never known that.
There were so many things.
So many pieces of her own life that had existed before she was born.
And nobody had told her.
The truck slowed.
Waterfront Park appeared in the distance.
Hank looked toward the entrance.
“It's going to be dangerous.”
Sarah nodded.
“I know.”
“Once we start, we don't stop.”
“I know.”
“Cutter may come himself.”
“Good.”
Hank looked at her through the mirror.
“Good?”
“He needs to.”
“Why?”
“Because I want him to look at me.”
Hank didn't speak.
Sarah continued.
“I want him to see Frank's daughter.”
Diana shook her head.
“You don't owe him anything.”
“No.”
Sarah looked at the river.
“But I owe my father the truth.”
Hank reached into his vest.
He handed her a secure phone.
“Everything will be recorded.”
“To who?”
“Christine Marsh.”
“The prosecutor?”
“Yes.”
“How long has she known?”
“Three years.”
“Three years?”
“She couldn't prosecute Cutter without evidence.”
Sarah looked at the phone.
“And now?”
“Now she has it.”
The truck stopped two blocks from the park.
Hank turned around.
“Sarah.”
She looked at him.
“Your father trusted people.”
“What?”
“Sometimes that was his weakness.”
Hank paused.
“But sometimes it was his strength.”
He nodded toward the phone.
“Trust yourself.”
Sarah stepped out.
Diana called after her.
“Sarah.”
She turned.
Her mother looked terrified.
“Come back.”
Sarah smiled.
“I will.”
Then she walked toward the park.
The morning was cold.
The river was dark.
And somewhere among the trees, men were waiting.
THE BOX
Sarah reached the third bench.
She sat.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
The park looked peaceful.
A jogger passed.
A dog barked.
A bicycle rolled along the path.
But Sarah could feel the watchers.
She knew where two of them were.
One near the maintenance shed.
One near the north entrance.
Another stood beneath a tree.
There were probably more.
She placed the phone on her lap.
The screen showed one word:
LIVE.
Sarah touched the concrete beneath the left armrest.
Her fingers found a seam.
She reached underneath.
Nothing.
She moved farther inward.
Then she felt metal.
Her heart began racing.
She pulled.
A small waterproof box came free.
She placed it on the bench.
For twenty-four years, it had been there.
Waiting.
Sarah stared at the lock.
Her birthday.
She entered the date.
The lock clicked.
The lid opened.
Inside were notebooks.
Documents.
Photographs.
USB drives.
A small cassette recorder.
And a letter.
Sarah picked up the letter.
The handwriting made her chest ache.
She knew it immediately.
Even though she had never seen it before.
Frank.
Her father.
The first line read:
If you are reading this, I didn't make it home.
Sarah's eyes filled.
She continued.
If Diana kept her promise, you are old enough now to know why.
Sarah swallowed.
I don't know what kind of woman you became. I don't know what you look like. I don't know if you laugh like your mother. I don't know if you inherited my stubbornness.
Sarah smiled through tears.
Then she heard footsteps.
She folded the letter.
A man stepped around the bench.
Mid-forties.
Dark jacket.
Calm expression.
“Put the box down.”
Sarah looked at him.
“No.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
“Your father was a dangerous man.”
“He was.”
The man looked surprised.
Sarah continued.
“He was also my father.”
Another man appeared behind her.
Then another.
Four.
Five.
Sarah's hand moved toward the phone.
The first man noticed.
“Don't.”
Sarah looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because this doesn't have to end badly.”
“That's what people say before things end badly.”
He almost smiled.
Then an engine sounded.
A black SUV entered the park.
Sarah knew immediately.
Dale Cutter.
The rear door opened.
He stepped out.
Silver hair.
Expensive coat.
Calm eyes.
He looked at Sarah for a long moment.
Then he said:
“You look like Frank.”
Sarah stood.
“You killed him.”
Cutter didn't deny it.
“He made choices.”
“He tried to expose you.”
“He betrayed me.”
“He wanted out.”
“He wanted to destroy everything.”
“Everything you built.”
Cutter nodded.
“Yes.”
Sarah held the box.
“You've been looking for this for twenty-four years.”
“Yes.”
“You never found it.”
“No.”
“My father beat you.”
Cutter's expression hardened.
“Your father was clever.”
“He was better than you.”