The Cost of Truth and the Fall of the Richards Family Dynasty
The silence in the car was heavy, filled only with the hum of the tires on the asphalt.
My mind kept going back to Gregory’s words.
*Take a look at the dates.*
What did he mean?
We reached the main gate of the military installation.
The guard on duty saw my uniform and the officer decal on the windshield.
He saluted, and I nodded as we passed through the barrier.
I parked outside my quarters, a small brick duplex near the officer housing loop.
We walked inside.
The air in the living room was cool and smelled of stale coffee.
I locked the door behind us and closed the blinds.
Eleanor sat on the small sofa, pulling her coat tight around herself.
I took off my service cap and set it on the dining table.
Then I unzipped my jacket and pulled out Daniel Hayes’s journal.
The leather was scuffed and worn at the edges.
I sat down at the table under the single overhead light.
I opened the book to the first page.
The handwriting was neat, precise, the script of an engineer.