Her name was written across the envelope.
SARAH
Her knees weakened.
She sat on the folding chair.
Opened it.
Inside was a letter.
Danny’s handwriting.
Sarah,
If you're reading this, then either I finally worked up the nerve to tell you everything, or something happened before I could.
Sarah stopped.
Ray and Mark remained silent.
She continued.
I found something during the Route 9 lighting job that I should probably have ignored.
You would tell me that is exactly why I could not ignore it.
Three guardrail sections near the quarry had been tampered with.
Not damaged by weather.
Not hit.
Bolts loosened.
Anchor cables partly cut.
At first I thought vandalism.
Then I saw the same black pickup parked nearby three nights.
I photographed it.
Sarah looked toward the photograph.
Danny continued.
I told Foreman Curtis.
He told me to forget it.
Next morning, somebody from county roads came out.
By afternoon they said everything was fine.
It wasn't.
I checked again.
Someone had replaced the visible bolts but not the cable beneath.
I started taking pictures.
Sarah read faster.
Two days later a man approached me in The Kettle parking lot.
He knew your name.
He knew Ellie’s school.
He told me to stop photographing county property.
I have not told you because I don't know who is involved, and because if I tell you, I know exactly what you will do.
You will stand beside me.
I love you for that.
But right now I need you and Ellie nowhere near this.
Sarah covered her mouth.
Danny.
Stupid, loving, impossible Danny.
The next paragraph was worse.
I copied everything.
Photos, invoices, work orders, inspection logs.
There is evidence in this unit that guardrail repairs were being billed to the county and not actually completed.
Someone was signing completed inspections anyway.
I think money is being stolen.
I also think somebody is afraid the unsafe sections will expose it.
If anything happens to me, do not assume the person who appears first to help is safe.
Sarah stopped.
Ray noticed.
“What?”
She looked at him.
“Danny wrote that not everyone in authority could be trusted.”
Mark muttered something under his breath.
They opened the tubs.
Photographs.
Invoices.
Work orders.
Copies of inspection signatures.
Danny had built a file.
Not perfect.
But extensive.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Deputy County Engineer Thomas Vance.
Another:
Road Maintenance Supervisor Leonard Keel.
Then Mark found an envelope containing a thumb drive.
The laptop still worked when plugged in.
Password protected.
Sarah tried birthdays.
Wrong.
Wedding anniversary.
Wrong.
Ellie’s birthday.
Wrong.
Ray looked toward the screen.
“What did Danny always say?”
Sarah almost laughed.
“About what?”
“Passwords.”
“He complained everyone chose obvious ones.”
“What was something only you two knew?”
Sarah stared.
Then remembered the last phone call.
Apple pie.
She typed:
APPLEPIE31
Wrong.
Then:
TEAONMYSHOES
The desktop appeared.
Sarah laughed and cried simultaneously.
“Idiot.”
Mark stared.
“What?”
“First day we met.”
Ray smiled quietly.