Even Benjamin laughed.
For the first time, the memorial didn’t feel like a place where our family had ended.
It felt like a place where we could finally speak the truth about the people we had lost.
Before leaving, I took out Grant’s original letter.
The paper was fragile now.
Its folds had begun to tear.
I read the last words again.
I did not choose to leave you.
Then I whispered:
“I know, Grant.”
The wind moved through the pine branches.
And for a brief moment, I could almost hear him laughing.
EPILOGUE — THE FINAL LETTER
Two months later, Margaret Ellis sent me one last envelope.
It had been recovered from Grant’s secure deposit box but wasn’t needed as evidence during the trial.
Inside was a letter.
Not about Miles.
Not about money.
Not about the investigation.
It was addressed to me.
My dearest Emily,
