I fell to my knees beside his high-security hospital bed.

The cold metal of the safety rail pressed hard against my chest.

“Dad,” I whispered, and then the tears finally came, hot and unstoppable.

I took his hand, wrapping both of my palms around his icy, paper-thin skin.

He looked so different from the strong man who used to tuck me in at night.

His cheeks were sunken, and his gray hair was thin and wild against the pillow.

But his eyes were exactly the same deep, warm brown I remembered from my childhood.

“I thought you were gone,” I sobbed, pressing his hand against my cheek.

“They told me you drowned in the ravine, seven years ago.”

He shook his head slowly, a single tear cutting through the dust on his lined face.

“They needed me dead to the world, Emily,” he whispered, his voice barely louder than the wind outside.

“If the world thought I was dead, no one would look for the things I knew.”

Charles stepped closer, his flashlight pointed toward the floor to keep the room dim.