Walker opened the rest of the contents, methodically spreading it all out. Photos, shipping manifests, financial records. His military training kicked in as he assessed what they were looking at.
Her father had been thorough.
"Your father was building a case," Walker said, examining the documents. "And it looks like he was getting close to identifying the Shepherd."
One photo caught his attention—her father, meeting with unknown men.
Sabrina's sharp intake of breath told him she'd seen it too.
"Henry," she whispered, her voice hollow with betrayal. "But he's been with my father for decades. They were friends."
"The closest betrayals hurt the most," Walker said, studying the photo. The words tasted bitter in his mouth. He knew that truth too well. "But this doesn't necessarily mean Henry is the Shepherd. He could be another pawn."
They continued through the documents together.
They spent hours poring through it all.
Finally, they made some soup and sandwiches and ate, then continued to work.
She pulled out another file, within the files. "Check this out."
Walker looked it over.
"What is that?" she asked him, pointing to what looked like shipping containers, full of something.
Walker explained what he recognized—specialized communications equipment that could be catastrophic in the wrong hands. The kind of tech that made people rich and got other people killed.
"So someone started selling it on the black market," Sabrina concluded.
"And your father found out." Walker gathered the documents carefully, his mind already calculating their next move. He pointed to a picture with a boat and a marina in the background. "We need to get to that marina."
Sabrina nodded, though Walker could see exhaustion written in every line of her body. "But first, I need to know everything about Henry. If he betrayed my father, I want to know why."
Walker hesitated, recognizing the dangerous path of vengeance. He'd walked it himself. "Sabrina, this isn't about revenge."
"It's about justice," she countered fiercely. "For my father. For yours."
Their eyes met across the table, and something electric passed between them—a shared purpose, a connection Walker hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.
He pulled back. He couldn't connect with her. "Get some rest. We'll head to the marina tomorrow."
Sabrina frowned. "Walker, all these years... did you ever think about what might have happened if my father hadn't interfered with us?"
The question hit Walker like a physical blow. Had he thought about it? Only every time he saw a family together. Every time he passed a certain type of rug. Every time her face flashed into his mind.
"Sometimes," he admitted, then stood abruptly. He couldn't afford this weakness. "I'll take first watch. Try to sleep."
Walker positioned himself by the window, shoulders stiff, eyes scanning the darkness beyond the glass. He was acutely aware of Sabrina watching him before she finally lay down on the couch, her father's letter clutched in her hand.
He kept his post as she slept, listening to her breathing change as she fell into dreams. Walker fought his own exhaustion, replaying the letter's contents in his mind.
His father had clearly known. Had been working with James Clark. Had died for it.
The night crawled by. He checked the perimeter twice, tested the locks again. Watched Sabrina sleep, her face younger in repose, reminding him of the girl he'd once known. The girl he'd thought about too often over the years, wondering where she was, if she was happy.
When dawn came, Sabrina woke suddenly, sitting up with a start.
"You should have woken me for my turn at watch," she said, frowning at him.
