Sal’s fingers remained on the photograph.
Dante watched him from the head of the table.
Vince stood beside his overturned chair, his face emptied of color.
Around us, no one touched the coffee.
The cups sat cooling between the printer logs, the forged ledger, and the photograph of my father alive three days after his funeral.
Dante spoke first.
“Whose grave is it?”
Sal did not answer immediately.
He turned the photograph over again.
On the back was a faded blue mark shaped like half a circle.
I had thought it was damage from age.
Sal knew better.
“I took this picture,” he said.
Vince’s head snapped toward him.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Sal looked older than he had ten minutes earlier.
His shoulders sagged beneath his dark jacket, but his voice grew steadier.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
Dante’s gaze moved between them.
“You knew Jack survived?”
Sal nodded once.
A pressure built behind my ribs.
I had spent ten years imagining my father’s final hours.
I had pictured him alone, accused by men he had served, carrying the shame of a crime he had not committed.
Now Sal was telling me those hours had not been his last.
“You knew,” I said.
It came out quieter than I intended.
Sal looked at me, but he could not hold my eyes.
“I knew he was alive after the burial.”
“After?”
Vince stepped away from the table.
“This is insane.
An old photograph proves nothing.
She could have altered it just like she altered those logs.”
I slid another page from the red folder.
“The photograph came from the original memory card,” I said.
“The creation date, device serial number, and location data are in the report.
The card was sealed inside the same envelope as the original ledger.”
Dante looked at Sal.
“Who sealed it?”
“I did,” Sal said.
Vince struck the table with his palm.
“He’s protecting her.”
“No,” Sal replied.
“I’m finally refusing to protect you.”
The words landed harder than any threat could have.
Dante’s expression did not change, but Paulie moved away from the wall and positioned himself between Vince and the door.
Vince noticed.
For the first time since I entered, he looked trapped.
Dante folded his hands.
“Start at the beginning.”
Sal looked down at the old ledger.
“Jack found money disappearing from the businesses.
Small amounts at first.
Transfers divided across enough accounts that no single number looked dangerous.
He traced the approvals back to Vince.”
