“That depends on what prosecutors can prove.”
April gave a small, bitter smile.
“Then prove it.”
That evening, April gave her statement.
She spoke for six hours.
She described the mission, the civilians, the compromised route, the override, the explosion, the smoke, the pain, and the moment she woke in a hospital unable to feel part of her left leg. She described the officer who warned her that speaking publicly would violate classified restrictions and damage her family. She described Robert’s silence, his shame, his refusal to tell the truth.
She did not cry until she reached Grace Kim.
When she did, Agent Ward stopped the recorder and waited.
April pressed her palms to her eyes.
“I carried her,” she whispered. “I carried everyone I could. But I thought I failed because I couldn’t carry all of them.”
Admiral Hale’s voice shook when he answered.
“You did not fail them.”
April lowered her hands.
“I need to believe that before I die.”
“You will.”
By the time she left the base, it was nearly midnight.
Vanessa was waiting outside the gate.
She looked nothing like the woman from the beach. Her makeup had been cried away. Her red swimsuit was gone, replaced by jeans and a sweatshirt from the gift shop. In her hands, she held a folded white T-shirt.
April stopped walking.
Admiral Hale glanced at her.
“Do you want us to remove her?”
April almost said yes.
Instead, she stepped forward.
Vanessa’s chin trembled.
“I didn’t know.”
April stared at her.
“You keep saying that as if ignorance was something that happened to you.”
Vanessa flinched.
“I’m sorry.”
April did not answer.
Vanessa held out the shirt.
“I bought this. I know it’s stupid. I ruined yours.”
April looked at it.
Plain white cotton. Size medium. Still tagged.
She took it, not because she forgave Vanessa, but because she needed something that was not torn.
Vanessa wiped her face.
“Dad told me you disgraced us. He said you abandoned your people. He said talking about it hurt you, so we shouldn’t ask.”
“And you turned that into jokes?”
Vanessa’s lips parted, then closed.
There was no excuse large enough.
“I wanted him to love me,” she whispered. “The way he never loved you.”
April felt the words more than she wanted to.
The truth was ugly, but at least it was finally honest.
“He didn’t love you better,” April said. “He used you easier.”
Vanessa began to cry harder.
