"He knew he was having a daughter?"
"He knew he was going to have a child."
Diana touched Sarah's cheek.
"He called you his little miracle."
Sarah looked away.
Hank watched the park.
"We don't have much time."
Sarah opened the truck door.
"I'll go."
"No."
"They're watching for me."
"Exactly."
"They won't move until I find the box."
Hank stared at her.
She understood then.
He wasn't only protecting her anymore.
He was trusting her.
"Your father used to think like that," Hank said.
Sarah smiled.
"Then let's see if I inherited it."
She stepped out.
The gravel crunched beneath her shoes.
She walked slowly.
No running.
No fear.
At least none that anyone could see.
She reached the bench.
Sat.
Looked at the river.
Then she lowered her hand.
Her fingers touched concrete.
A seam.
She pressed.
Nothing.
She pressed harder.
A hidden panel moved.
Sarah froze.
She looked around.
No one reacted.
She pulled.
The panel opened.
Inside was a metal box.
Wrapped in plastic.
Twenty-four years old.
She reached for it.
"Don't move."
The voice came from behind her.
Sarah stopped.
A man stepped into view.
Mid-forties.
Calm.
Professional.
He pointed toward the box.
"Put it down."
Sarah held it.
"No."
He smiled.
"You should."
Four men appeared around the bench.
Then an SUV entered the park.
Black.
Tinted windows.
The rear door opened.
Dale Cutter stepped out.
He was sixty.
Silver-haired.
Expensively dressed.
He looked less like a criminal than a businessman.
That was the most frightening part.
He approached slowly.
"Sarah."
She stared.
"You know my name."
"I've known your name for twenty-four years."
Her fingers tightened around the box.
Cutter smiled.
"You look like Frank."
"That's what everyone keeps saying."
"He was stubborn."
"You killed him."
Cutter sighed.
"Your father made choices."
"He tried to expose you."
"He tried to betray me."
"He tried to save his family."
Cutter's smile disappeared.
"Give me the box."
"No."
"Your mother lives."
Sarah stared.
Cutter continued.
"Your mother can leave this park alive."
Sarah looked toward the trees.
She knew Hank was somewhere nearby.
She knew the phone was transmitting.
She knew Cutter didn't.
Not yet.
"You've spent twenty-four years looking for this."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because your father stole something that belonged to me."
"People?"
Cutter's face hardened.
"Information."
Sarah held up the box.
"You mean evidence."
"Call it whatever makes you comfortable."
Cutter extended his hand.
"Give it to me."
Sarah looked at him.
Then she smiled.
It was the first genuine smile she had given that morning.
Cutter frowned.
"What's funny?"
Sarah pulled the phone from her pocket.
The screen faced him.
A timer was running.
A red indicator blinked.
Cutter's expression changed.
"What's that?"
"Live transmission."
His face went pale.
"To whom?"
"Federal prosecutors."
Cutter looked toward the road.
Three black sedans entered the park.
Then another.
Doors opened.
Men and women in dark suits emerged.
Cutter looked back at Sarah.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
"You little—"
He stopped.
Sarah raised the phone.
"Everything you said is recorded."
Cutter stared at her.
Then he laughed.
It was a strange, broken sound.
"You think this changes anything?"
Sarah looked at him.
"It changes everything."
FBI agents moved in.
Cutter's men froze.
Hank emerged from the trees.
Cutter stared at him.
"Reeves."
Hank said nothing.
Cutter looked at Sarah again.
"You think Frank won?"
Sarah held the box against her chest.
"No."
She looked toward the river.
"I think he finally got a chance."
Agents moved forward.
"Hands where we can see them."
Cutter slowly raised his hands.
The arrest lasted eleven minutes.
When it was over, Sarah sat on the bench.
Federal prosecutor Christine Marsh approached.
"Sarah Mitchell?"
Sarah nodded.
Marsh held out her hand.
"The box."
Sarah hesitated.
For twenty-four years, her father had protected it.
For twenty-four years, her mother had hidden it.
Now Sarah had to let it go.
She placed it in Marsh's hands.
Marsh looked at the evidence bag.
"Chain of custody begins now."
She looked at Sarah.
"Your father's name will be on the case."
Sarah nodded.
"For the first time," she whispered, "someone will know what he did."
Diana reached the bench.
She sat beside her daughter.
Her ankle hurt.
Her hands shook.
But she was smiling.
Sarah leaned against her.
"Tell me everything."
Diana wrapped an arm around her.
"Everything?"
"Everything."
And for the first time in twenty-four years, there were no more secrets.