The Truth About Us

She struggled to breathe as she waited for his answer, suppressing the nagging ache in her chest worse than a toothache.

Mr. Levine clucked his tongue. “With the information we already had, this should be more than enough. We suspected he was in the states for years but couldn’t pinpoint his whereabouts. Before his death, Lawson had called and indicated he had information on a war criminal, but since all we had was his recording before he died, we had no idea if it was legit or even who he was referring to. I had done a little recon though, and after I got an anonymous tip two weeks ago, I was watching him.”

Abby’s skin pricked. “But you were following me. Not him. I saw you.”

Mr. Levine frowned. “We always followed your grandfather.”

“But that first day in the café, the one where Kaden and I were talking, and then when I was there again with Ms. Gut—”

“He was there.”

Abby sunk back into her chair. “No.” She shook her head.

It wasn’t possible. She would’ve seen him, wouldn’t she?

“I assure you. Your grandfather was there that day you were with Kaden. I remember you. He was watching. Both times.”

His voice faded to the background.

Abby swallowed as she tried to reconcile herself with what he just told her. He was watching me...

Goosebumps spread over her arms and legs as a chill shook her. The person who had gone through her stuff was him, looking to see what all she had found.

Abby tried to clear her head. The incessant thoughts, the pounding in her brain, and the vibrating of her pulse in her ears made it too hard. She wanted to walk away. Leave and never come back. She wanted to forget all this ever happened but knew it was impossible.

She inhaled a cleansing breath, then glanced back up at him and tried for a smile, but her lips barely budged. She slid the key to the storage unit across the desk. An image of Kaden and the memory of their drive to Newberry flashed in her head, along with the moment he spotted the billboard with the ad for the storage unit—his lightbulb moment that led them straight to it.

She swallowed as he took the key from her, pretending a dagger hadn’t entered her heart like the memories meant nothing.

“This will get you the chest. And everyth

ing else is here,” she said, motioning toward the box of evidence.

“It won’t take long to get a search warrant. After that, an arrest is imminent. We don’t normally do this, but as a courtesy, I could stall and give you twenty-four hours, if you want it.”

Abby pursed her lips, thinking. Whether to warn her parents was a question she had pondered on the drive in from Fairfax, and she hadn’t come to a definitive conclusion until now.

“No. Even once you make the arrest, I’m not telling them I knew. I realize they might find out later, but...” She shrugged.

“Okay. Your choice.”

Abby sighed. “I don’t know if they’d even believe me if I told them I was the one to uncover it all. Part of me still doesn’t believe it myself. Regardless, this will ruin them. Especially my mother. It will tear her down, and I know there’s a chance I might have to testify about everything I found, but if there’s even a small possibility she never has to know I was the one, I’d like to take it. There are some secrets worth keeping.” Her voice cracked, but she composed herself.

No more tears.

“I understand.”

She pushed back from her chair and stood. Mr. Levine had everything he needed, and if she sat there any longer, she’d break. Having a meltdown in the middle of the Office of Special Investigations was not top on her list of things to do. Before she turned, she gestured toward the evidence. “You promise once the investigation and everything is over, you’ll give the journal to Anna Gutman? She deserves to have it back in her family, where it belongs.”

“You have my word,” Mr. Levine said.

“And tell her I’m sorry.”

Mr. Levine shook his head. “You’re one brave girl. You have nothing to be sorry about. You know that, right? You are not responsible for the things your grandfather did. And I think you’ve more than proven your character by coming here today.”

“I don’t feel brave,” Abby whispered, cursing silently as the moisture returned to her eyes.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not.” Then, as if sensing her inner struggle, he added, “Bravery is a choice, Miss Bridges. It’s not inherent or given. It’s a choice we make. And real courage is tested not by those who simply make hard choices but by those who stand by them. Even in the face of fear and recrimination.”