“She was the commander who tried to save your uncle.”
Logan’s face changed.
“What?”
Grant continued.
“I spent fourteen years believing she killed him.”
“And now?”
Grant looked toward my house.
“Now I’m not sure what I believe.”
I stopped the video.
Grant lowered his phone.
“I investigated you,” he said.
“I know.”
“I found your awards.”
I said nothing.
“Your commendations.”
Silence.
“Your command history.”
He looked embarrassed.
“And I found something else.”
“What?”
“A letter.”
My stomach tightened.
“What letter?”
“The one my brother wrote before he died.”
I stared at him.
“Where did you get it?”
“He mailed it to me.”
Grant pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
“He told me to open it if he didn’t come home.”
I couldn’t breathe.
For fourteen years, I had believed Daniel died without knowing what his brother thought.
Grant unfolded the letter.
