because people were already hunting me.”
“The people whose data you stole?”
“The people who were going to sell it with or without me.
At least this way, I could control the transfer.”
“And the unidentified remains in the casket?”
His breathing changed.
General Bradley’s jaw tightened.
Until that moment, I had not known whether the casket was empty or held someone misidentified as Garrett.
“Who died in your place?” I asked.
“It was an accident.”
The words drifted through the cemetery.
Scarlett covered her mouth.
Garrett spoke faster.
“The vehicle was hit outside the extraction zone.
The body was burned.
My identification was in the cabin.
I saw an opportunity.”
“A man died, and you used his body.”
“He was already dead.”
“What was his name?”
Garrett did not answer.
That told me he had never bothered to learn it.
General Bradley pointed toward a small signal unit inside the SUV.
A green light appeared.
They had his location.
But the general did not end the call.
He wrote two words on a card and held it where only I could see.
CONFIRM BUYER.
I swallowed my disgust.
“You said people were hunting you.
Who has the files now?”
“No one.
Not yet.”
“Who are you meeting?”
“Give me the response code, and I’ll tell you.”
“You abandoned me once.
I’m not making another deal without proof.”
For the first time, uncertainty entered his voice.
He had always mistaken restraint for weakness.
During our marriage, every time I refused to shout, he assumed he had won.
He was making the same mistake again.
“I can send you a sample,” he said.
“Send it.”
General Bradley connected a secure receiver to the phone.
Seconds later, an encrypted packet appeared on the tablet.
My stomach turned when I recognized the header.
It contained names of intelligence officers and their families, including home addresses, travel patterns, and school schedules.
My own name appeared near the top.
So did the names of my children.
Garrett had not merely stolen a military file.
He had built leverage from the private lives of people who trusted the government to protect them.
“You included Emma, Noah, and Liam,” I said.
The general’s eyes snapped toward the screen.
Garrett remained silent for too long.
“They were identifiers,” he finally said.
“Nothing would have happened to them if you cooperated.”
Every remaining trace of grief inside me hardened into something clean and cold.
“You used your own children as collateral.”
“Don’t make this emotional.”
A small voice came from behind me.
“Dad?”
Emma had stepped out from beneath the umbrella.
I turned, but she was already close enough for the phone to catch her voice.
Garrett stopped breathing.
“Emma?”
She looked at the casket, then at the phone in my hand.
“Why did you let us think you were in there?”
No intelligence training had prepared me for the look on her face.
Garrett tried to soften his voice.
“Sweetheart, adults sometimes have to do complicated things.”
“Mom does complicated things,” Emma said.
“She still comes home.”
The silence that followed broke something in Beatrice.
She sank into a chair and covered her face.
Garrett recovered quickly.
“Alex, get her away from the phone.”
“You don’t get to give orders about our children.”
“They’re my children too.”
Noah
