He had repeated those words for decades.
Now he wondered whether James had ever believed them.
At 8:30 p.m., his phone rang.
An unknown number.
Walter answered.
"Hello?"
A familiar voice came through.
"Hello, old friend."
Walter closed his eyes.
"James."
"I heard you're making trouble again."
"Where is my daughter?"
A pause.
Then James laughed softly.
"You always were stubborn."
"Where is she?"
"I can help you find her."
"You know where she is."
"Perhaps."
Walter gripped the phone.
"Why did you do it?"
James sighed.
"Because the world isn't as simple as you believed. You wanted everything to be clean. You wanted every criminal punished. But people like us had responsibilities."
Walter's voice hardened.
"Emily was your goddaughter."
"I know."
"She trusted you."
"I know that too."
For a moment, Walter couldn't speak.
Then James said:
"Meet me tomorrow. Alone. I'll tell you everything."
Walter immediately understood the danger.
"Where?"
"Old Harbor Road. Eleven in the morning."
The call ended.
Walter looked at the phone.
Then he called Rebecca.
"I have a location."
"Don't go alone."
"He specifically asked me to."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't."
Walter looked at the photograph.
"I've spent fifteen years wondering what happened to my daughter. Tomorrow, I may finally get the answer."
Rebecca was silent.
Then she said:
"We'll be there. You won't see us, but we won't let you out of our sight."
Old Harbor Road was deserted when Walter arrived.
The sky was gray.
A cold wind moved through the abandoned warehouses.
At exactly eleven, a black vehicle appeared.
James Holloway stepped out.
He was seventy-four years old, with white hair and a familiar smile.
"Walter."
"James."
The two men stood several feet apart.
For a moment, they looked like old friends meeting after a long separation.
Then Walter spoke.
"Where is Emily?"
James looked down.
"She's alive."
Walter's breathing stopped.
"Where?"
"Safe."
"Show me."
James shook his head.
"Not yet."
Walter stepped forward.
"You've taken fifteen years from me. You don't get to decide what happens next."
James sighed.
"I did what I had to do."
"No. You did what was convenient."
James's expression hardened.
"You have no idea how powerful these people are."
"I know exactly how powerful they are. I spent fifteen years fighting them."
James laughed bitterly.
"And what did it get you? A ruined career. A dead marriage. A daughter who disappeared."
Walter looked at him.
"You were supposed to be my friend."
James lowered his head.
"I was."
"Then tell me why."
James finally spoke.
"Because Emily discovered the truth about the financial network. But she also discovered something worse."
"What?"
"Several senior officials were using the department to protect an international criminal organization. They had informants inside the courts, the police, and the government."
Walter stared at him.
"And you helped them?"
"I was already involved."
"How long?"
James looked away.
"Twenty years."
Walter shook his head slowly.
"All those years..."
James interrupted him.
"Do you think I enjoyed it? I had a family. A mortgage. A life. I couldn't simply walk away."
Walter's voice became quiet.
"Emily was twenty-six years old."
James said nothing.
"She had her whole life ahead of her."
A sudden sound came from behind the warehouse.
James turned.
Two armed men emerged.
Walter immediately recognized one of them.
Thomas Vance.
The man who had been officially declared dead.
Vance smiled.
"Well, well. The famous Walter Hayes."
Walter looked at James.
"You brought me here to kill me."
James shook his head.
"I wanted to give you a chance."
Vance laughed.
"He's lying. He brought you here because he wants his share of the money."
James turned angrily.
"Shut up."
Vance raised his weapon.
"Both of you. Enough."
Then a loud command echoed through the warehouse.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
Rebecca Morgan and her team emerged from behind the vehicles.
The two armed men immediately lowered their weapons.
Vance attempted to run.
He made it only a few steps before agents tackled him to the ground.
James stood motionless.
Walter looked at him.
"Is it over?"
James nodded slowly.
"Yes."
But before the agents could arrest him, James reached into his coat.
Several officers raised their weapons.
Instead of a gun, he pulled out a small silver key.
"There's a storage facility outside the city," he said. "Unit 214. Everything is there."
Rebecca took the key.
"What everything?"
James looked at Walter.
"Emily's location. The original financial ledger. And the names of everyone involved."
Walter closed his eyes.
For fifteen years, he had imagined this moment.
He had imagined shouting.
He had imagined revenge.
But standing there, watching his former friend surrender, he felt only exhaustion.
James was arrested.
And the investigation finally began to move toward its conclusion.
The storage facility was located nearly forty miles from Millbrook.
Inside Unit 214, investigators discovered boxes of documents, digital storage devices, and dozens of photographs.
But Walter barely noticed any of them.
He was looking at a small envelope.
His name was written on it in familiar handwriting.
He opened it carefully.
Dad,
If you're reading this, I hope it means I'm finally free.
I don't know how much time has passed since we last spoke. I don't know whether Mom is still alive. I don't even know whether you still remember the sound of my voice.
But I remember everything.
I remember you teaching me how to ride a bicycle.
I remember the birthday cake you made when Mom was sick.
And I remember you telling me that no matter what happened, I should never be afraid of the truth.
I tried to follow your advice.
I'm sorry it took me so long to come home.
Walter lowered the letter.
His hands were shaking.
Rebecca approached quietly.
"Mr. Hayes."
He looked up.
"We found her."
Walter stood immediately.
"Where?"
"At a protected residence in another state. She's safe."
Walter could barely speak.
"Can I see her?"
Rebecca smiled.
"She's already on her way."
Two hours later, a dark blue car pulled into the parking lot.
A woman stepped out.
She was in her early forties, with shoulder-length brown hair and tired eyes.