Pressed into the front was an insignia I had not seen for years.
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A silver compass above crossed arrows.
Task Force Meridian.
Our former joint operations unit.
Join the Army
Something I had once assumed would remain buried inside classified records and fading memories.
My stomach tightened.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
The stepmother remained silent.
The officer holding the folder looked toward me.
There’s handwriting.”
My name had been written across the front.
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COL. ADRIAN STEEL.
Underneath were three words.
IF I’M GONE.
For the first time that day, I felt something resembling fear.
Not fear for myself.
For those children.
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“Open it,” I said.
The officer paused.
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“This may be evidence.”
“Then open it here with witnesses present.”
She exchanged a glance with another officer.
The airport police supervisor nodded.
The folder was set on a counter.
