I looked up sharply.
“Vanished? You told me she died.”
My father’s eyes filled with grief so old it looked carved into him.
“She did,” he whispered. “Three months later.”
But Dr. Vale stared at him as if every truth had rearranged itself.
“No,” she said slowly. “Richard, Laura’s body was never recovered from that fire.”
My breath stopped.
The key in my palm felt suddenly warm.
General Ellison looked from the photograph to my mother’s letter, then to the card left by a dead man who was not dead.
Then the aide’s tablet chimed.
A new message appeared from academy security.
The archive vault had just been opened.
