“You always were bad at reunions.”
His eyes dropped to the dog tags.
The humor vanished.
“You still carry his.”
Dana’s fingers closed around them again.
“Every day.”
Jack nodded once.
“I figured.”
They found a quiet corner near a closed coffee kiosk while investigators worked around them. Megan passed once with the rest of the crew and gave Dana a grateful nod. Bradley hurried toward the customer service desk, then stopped, looked back, and seemed to decide against whatever complaint had been forming.
Jack leaned against the wall.
“I tried calling after you retired.”
“I know.”
“You changed your number.”
“I know.”
“I went to your apartment.”
Dana looked at him.
“That was excessive.”
“You weren’t there.”
“That was the point.”
Jack stared at the floor. “Ethan would have hated what you did to yourself.”
The words hit harder than Dana expected.
“Do not tell me what Ethan would have wanted.”
“Fine. Then I’ll tell you what he told me.”
Dana went still.
Jack reached into a zippered pocket on his flight suit and pulled out a small plastic memory sleeve.
Not a letter.
Not a miracle.
A standard mission debrief data card.
“This was copied from my aircraft after the last sortie,” he said. “I listened to it after the investigation. I thought you had too.”
Dana did not take it.
