Walker reached out, his hand warm and steady on her shoulder. "You okay?"
She looked up into his blue eyes, seeing concern mixed with his own shock at the revelation. "Are you?"
He didn't answer, turning back to Henry instead. "Tell us all of it."
"Not here." Henry looked back to Thomas, who beckoned them toward the parking lot.
"We need to go," Thomas urged.
Henry held out his hand. "Come with us. There's a safe house where we can review these files properly."
Her instincts said to believe him, but her rational mind urged caution.
"Walker," she said softly, placing her hand on his forearm. She could feel the tension in his muscles, coiled and ready. "I'm asking you to trust me. I believe Henry."
For a moment, she thought he would refuse. Then something in his expression shifted, his eyes softening as they met hers. His free hand came up to cover hers where it rested on his arm, the touch sending warmth spiraling through her.
"If this is a trap," he said to Henry, his eyes never leaving Sabrina's, "remember I've been trained to kill in eighteen different ways."
Henry's weathered face smiled. "Your father would be proud."
They followed Henry and Thomas to a nondescript SUV parked at the marina entrance.
As they drove away, Sabrina found herself seated beside Walker, the case containing her father's evidence between them. Doubt crept back in, overriding her initial certainty.
"Are we making a mistake?" she whispered to Walker, needing reassurance that they weren't walking into a trap.
Walker's eyes remained vigilant, scanning their surroundings as the vehicle moved through traffic. "Maybe. But if war zones have taught me anything it's that sometimes faith is all we have." His hand found hers on the seat between them, giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze.
Sabrina fought the urge to intertwine her fingers with his, to hold on and never let go. Despite everything that had happened—the lies, the danger, the years apart—this connection felt real.
Henry's safe house was a modest cabin on the outskirts of the city. As they pulled up the gravel driveway, Sabrina noted the subtle security measures—motion sensors disguised as landscape lighting, cameras hidden in birdhouses.
"Your father helped set this up," Henry explained as he unlocked the door. "Frank wanted it off the books, off the grid."
Inside, the cabin was sparse but functional—a main room with basic furniture, a kitchenette, and two doors that presumably led to bedrooms. What caught Sabrina's attention was the communications setup against one wall: multiple monitors, encrypted radio equipment, and a secure server. Another piece of her father's secret life revealed.
"Thomas, perimeter check," Henry ordered as they entered.
Thomas nodded and disappeared outside, leaving the three of them alone.
"Let's see what Frank left us," Henry said, gesturing to a table where they could spread out the contents of the waterproof case.
Sabrina set the case down, her movements careful. This was more than evidence—these were her father's lastcommunications, his final effort to protect her from beyond the grave. Her throat tightened with emotion as she opened it.
The laptop inside was password protected. She tried several combinations—her birthday, her mother's birthday, her parents' anniversary—before looking up in frustration. "I don't know what he would have used."
Henry leaned forward. "Try 'Proverbs3:5'."
Sabrina typed it in, and the screen unlocked immediately. Of course—her father's favorite Bible verse. Something he'd quoted to her countless times growing up.
"How did you know?" she asked, surprised.
A sad smile crossed Henry's face. "It was his favorite verse. 'Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.' We talked about it often those last few months."
Walker nodded. "He was your best friend."
Henry nodded, his weathered face softening with memory. "Yes, Frank was my best friend for thirty years. I was with him when he met your mother, Sabrina. I was at their wedding. I watched you grow up."
