“I remember.”
“You were overseas.”
“Yes.”
“Sofia was barely two.”
My daughter slowly lowered herself onto the couch.
I forced myself to continue.
“At eleven that night, someone knocked.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“Daniel?”
“I didn’t know that was his name.”
Alexander’s eyes did not leave mine.
“What name did he use?”
“David.”
Alexander closed his eyes.
“That was his middle name.”
I felt a chill.
“He was soaked. Nervous. He said he knew you from the Army.”
“What did he want?”
“He handed me an envelope.”
Sofia whispered, “The one under the floor?”
“Yes.”
I remembered Daniel’s face more clearly now.
Not old.
Not silver-haired.
Young, frightened, eyes constantly moving toward the windows.
“He told me that if anyone ever came asking about Alexander’s work, I was to deny knowing him.”
Marcus frowned.
“Then?”
“He said something strange.”
Alexander looked at me.
“What?”
I swallowed.
“He said, ‘If Alex ever believes I betrayed him, tell him I was trying to save him.’”
