Peter stared.
Daniel opened it.
Inside were plastic-wrapped papers.
Most were damaged.
Some remained readable.
There were inspection records.
Bank transfers.
Names.
Dates.
And a photograph.
Daniel held it toward the camera.
Michael stood beside another teenage boy.
On the back were two words.
Trust Aaron.
Daniel whispered the name.
“Aaron.”
Peter looked at him.
“Who?”
“Michael’s best friend.”
They found Aaron Walsh two days later.
He was fifty-one.
He lived outside Seattle.
Daniel called him.
At first, Aaron denied knowing anything.
Then Daniel mentioned the tape.
Silence.
Finally, Aaron asked, “Are you alone?”
Daniel looked at me.
“No.”
“My wife is here.”
Another pause.
“Do you have children?”
Daniel looked toward Sophie sleeping in my arms.
“A daughter.”
“How old?”
“Three weeks.”
Aaron exhaled.
“Then you need to stop digging.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“I spent twenty-eight years thinking my brother was dead.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
That single word changed everything again.
“Where is he?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
Daniel stood.
“Is Michael alive?”
Aaron did not answer.
“Please.”
Still nothing.
Daniel’s voice broke.
“Aaron, please.”
Finally, Aaron said, “The last time I knew for certain, yes.”
Daniel sat down.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
I stared at him.
Daniel whispered, “Six years?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because the people Michael testified against were not the only people involved.”
Peter had been right.
The construction bribery case had expanded.
Money laundering.
Fraud.
Political corruption.
Michael’s testimony had helped investigators.
But several people avoided prosecution.
Some remained powerful.
Aaron explained that Michael had lived under more than one identity.
Contact was rare.
Dangerous.
“Then why did he contact you six years ago?”
Aaron went quiet.
“To ask about Daniel.”
My husband closed his eyes.
“What did he ask?”
“If you were married.”
“If you were happy.”
“If your parents were alive.”
“And whether you had children.”
Daniel looked at Sophie.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were married.”
“That you wanted children.”
“That you’d had losses.”
My throat tightened.
Daniel whispered, “He knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he contact me?”
“Because he believed contact could expose you.”
Daniel looked furious.
“That should have been my decision.”
“I agree.”
“Then give me his number.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Email.”
“No.”
“Address.”
“No.”
Daniel pressed both hands against his face.
Aaron continued.
“But there may be a way to send him something.”
Daniel looked up.
“What?”
“A message.”
“How?”
“I send it to someone.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Daniel almost shouted.
“Aaron.”
“I’m trying to protect him.”
“And I’m his brother.”
“I know.”
Daniel looked at me.
I walked closer.
“What message?” I asked.
He stared at Sophie.
Then smiled through tears.
“Tell him he has a niece.”
Aaron was silent.
Daniel continued.
“Tell him her name is Sophie.”
“And tell him she has the family moon.”
Aaron inhaled sharply.
“The birthmark?”
“You know about it?”
“Michael told me.”
Daniel nodded.
“Tell him.”
“I will.”
Weeks passed.
No response.
