Barefoot.
One hand braced against the wall.
“You should not be standing.”
“Someone’s outside.”
“I know.”
Daniel held a fireplace poker.
Evelyn stared.
“That’s your plan?”
“My gun is apparently in your purse.”
“Medical bag.”
“Even worse.”
A beam of light moved through the garage window.
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“Back room.”
“No.”
“Evelyn.”
“No.”
“You have no idea who—”
She lifted one hand.
“Quiet.”
A shadow crossed the side door.
Daniel moved in front of her.
Evelyn noticed.
Despite the injured leg.
Despite knowing her less than one day.
Something inside her tightened.
The handle moved.
Locked.
Then footsteps faded.
Silence.
Evelyn whispered:
“Gate camera.”
They went to the kitchen computer.
She pulled up footage.
A dark pickup had stopped beyond the driveway.
Two men.
One approached the house.
One remained near the vehicle.
The man at the door wore a baseball cap.
Daniel leaned closer.
“That’s him.”
“Who?”
“Marcus Vale.”
Evelyn waited.
“Former security director for the contractor.”
“Now?”
“Consultant.”
“That word does a lot of work.”
“Yes.”
The camera showed Vale return to the truck.
They left.
Evelyn stared.
“They know you’re here.”
“Probably followed from the highway.”
“Why not come inside?”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Because they don't know whether I already sent the files.”
Evelyn looked at the flash drive.
“Did you?”
“Some.”
“To who?”
“The reporter.”
“Then why are they still after you?”
“Because originals matter.”
Evelyn folded her arms.
“So what happens now?”
“I leave before sunrise.”
“No.”
Daniel looked at her.
“This is not negotiable.”
“Everything is negotiable.”
“They came to your house.”
“Yes.”
“Because of me.”
“Possibly because of James.”
That stopped him.
Evelyn continued.
“If my husband hid this from me for six years and somebody is now walking around my garage because of it, you do not get to decide I should remain ignorant.”
Daniel looked frustrated.
“Your husband tried to keep you out.”
“My husband is dead.”
The sentence landed hard.
Evelyn immediately regretted its sharpness.
Daniel looked away.
“I know.”
His voice changed.
Evelyn softened.
“Daniel.”
He turned.
“I am not angry at you.”
“Maybe you should be.”
“Why?”
He looked toward James’s letter.
“Because I let it sit in a safe for six years.”
Evelyn stared.
“You had it that long?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“James told me not to involve you unless necessary.”
“And you obeyed?”
“I thought I was honoring him.”
Evelyn looked at the man across from her.
Dust still remained along one side of his beard.
Pain showed every time he shifted weight.
He had carried guilt longer than she had known him.
“Maybe you were.”
“That doesn't feel better.”
“No.”
She sighed.
“Honoring dead people is complicated.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You sound experienced.”
“I am.”
They sat at the table until dawn.
Not speaking constantly.
Silence no longer felt awkward.
At four-thirty, Evelyn made coffee.
Daniel watched.
“You always drink it that strong?”
“Yes.”