Gabe sifted through years of sibling fights. Baseball teams. Music. Movies.
Dad.
Dad was a hero.
No, he was a fool who got himself killed for nothing.
Take that back.
It's true. He chose some investigation over his family. Over us.
The memory hit like a physical blow.
David had been thirteen. Gabe four years older. Standing in their aunt's kitchen after the funeral. Fighting because they didn't know how else to process grief.
David asking over and over:Was Dad a hero or a fool?
And Gabe, angry and hurting saying:Fool.
The worst answer possible.
Because their dad had been a hero.
Gabe pulled out his laptop with shaking hands. Opened the password prompt.
Typed: HERO
Incorrect password
He stared at the screen. Tried variations. HERODAD. DADHERO. HEROIC.
All failed.
Unless.
What if the question wasn't about their dad at all?
What if David was asking about himself?
Gabe typed: FOOL
The drive unlocked.
Files cascaded across the screen. Folders labeled with dates and names and evidence categories. Audio recordings. Photos. Documents.
David had left him everything. And he'd titled it with the worst answer Gabe had ever given.
The one he'd spent twenty years regretting.
His throat closed. Eyes burned. He pressed his palms against them hard enough to see stars.
"Gabe?" Cara's voice was gentle.
"Got it." The words came out rough. "I got in."
He opened the first folder. Found an audio file labeled INTRO. Clicked it.
David's voice filled the bakery:
