The suited man shook his head.
“Not here.”
“I watched him run back into a burning structure. I carried his blood on my gloves. Don’t tell me not here.”
“His identity remains protected.”
“He’s dead.”
The man did not answer.
Ethan went still.
The silence lasted one beat too long.
“He’s dead,” Ethan repeated.
The commanding officer looked from Ethan to the suited man.
“Is he?”
Still no answer.
Ethan’s chair scraped backward.
“Open the rest of the file.”
“I can’t authorize that.”
“Then find someone who can.”
The suited man reached for the folder.
Ethan put his hand over it.
The military police supervisor tensed.
Nobody moved.
Ethan looked at the man across the table.
“Three years ago, you erased my team because you said exposure would endanger survivors and families. I accepted it because I believed one of my men died buying the rest of us time. If you’re about to tell me you hid something else behind that reason, you are going to look me in the face when you do it.”
The suited man slowly withdrew his hand.
“I need to make a call.”
He left the room.
Ethan sat.
His hands were shaking now.
The commanding officer poured a glass of water and placed it beside him.
Ethan did not touch it.
“You knew me,” he said.
