The shape of the thing became clearer, and darker.
“This isn’t about me being quiet,” I said.
“No,” my mother replied. “It may have started because of your last name.”
My father stepped closer.
“Years ago, I pushed for the Mercer case to be reopened. I couldn’t make it happen. Too many doors closed.”
“And Ethan blamed you.”
“He blamed me for nearly exposing him.”
A cold realization spread through me.
“So he came here.”
“Maybe,” my mother said. “Or maybe someone invited him.”
Bradley’s warning returned.
You don’t know what you’re in the middle of.
I gripped the edge of the table.
“What does he want from me?”
My father’s answer came quietly.
“To make you quit. Or break. Or react badly enough that your credibility disappears.”
My mother added, “And if you become unreliable, anything you say about what you saw becomes easier to dismiss.”
“What I saw?”
My father reached into his jacket and removed a folded photograph.
He placed it on the table.
It showed a group of young men standing near a training course years ago.
Ethan Vale was there.
Younger. Smiling.
Beside him stood another man I recognized from Academy events.
Clay Knox.
Bradley’s uncle.
And at the far left, half turned away from the camera, was someone else.
Someone whose face sent a strange pressure behind my eyes.
“Who is that?” I asked.
My father did not answer immediately.
My mother did.
“Commander Sloane.”
For a moment, I thought I had misheard.
“My company officer?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the photograph.
Commander Sloane, younger but unmistakable, standing with the men connected to Daniel Mercer’s death.
“But he’s part of the inquiry.”
My father nodded.
“That’s what worries us.”
The room tilted.
Commander Sloane had been in the conference room. He had asked why I hadn’t reported earlier. He had told me no more private tests.
Was that concern?
Or control?
My mother’s voice lowered.
“Madison, listen carefully. Do not accuse him. Do not confront him. Do not share this photograph with anyone except Captain Hayes or Commander Callahan.”
“Does Callahan know?”
My father folded his arms.
“He suspected. Not confirmed.”
“Then why hasn’t he acted?”
“Because suspicion is not proof.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Proof.
That word had followed me from the beginning.
I had waited for proof against Bradley.
Now proof had arrived against someone far more dangerous.
And it was not enough.
A knock sounded at the door.
All three of us turned.
Captain Hayes entered without waiting long.
Her expression changed when she saw my parents.
