The man sat back down.
He stared at the crescent moon on his screen.
He thought about his friends and what they'd wanted.
He remembered the daughters they had left behind.
A girl who was probably what… twenty-five now? Twenty-six?
A girl who grew up totally in the dark about the truth.
Without a clue how her dad really died.
Without knowing who did it.
The man had promised himself he'd track her down someday.
Tell her everything.
Give her the answers she really needed.
But he had been too scared.
Too worried about what the truth would do to her.
Too concerned she'd blame him for not taking action sooner.
But maybe, maybe now was the right time.
Maybe she's strong enough now.
Maybe she needs to know.
The man opened a secure channel.
Encrypted. Private. Untraceable.
He started typing.
