could not focus. Part of it was tears at the sight of his scribbles. Part of it was fear at what he was about to tell her. Most of it was the idea that he was communicating with her. After all this time, after her recent searching … he was answering her from the grave.
Dear Sarah,
If you are reading this, it means things did not go as I hope they will. It means I’m gone. It means I will not have a chance to wear this suit proudly and stand with you at the altar to become your husband. This breaks my heart.
I know I have been distant these past few months. Maybe even longer. Please forgive me. I am not even sure where to begin. About a year into working at BioMed, my security clearance was increased. You remember this. We felt it was a promotion. Shortly after I had more access in my division, I learned of an inhumane experiment being conducted in secret on the premises. It is not the first time BioMed has done such and I gather that at least one researcher has been killed because of it.
Without going into specifics, because the less you know, the safer you will be, I have to try to stop them. I am exporting information and will be going to authorities as soon as I can be sure that I can do so without endangering the subject’s safety. Believe me when I say this, I am afraid for my life—and by extension, yours. They will stop at nothing to protect their interests and their research. This is why I have not been talking to you about my work anymore.
If I am dead, know that Dr. Robert Kraiten either killed me himself or had me killed on his behalf. There is a safety deposit box at our bank under my name. Go there. Take the disk and the security clearance out and go to the FBI with them. This is an interstate crime of incomprehensible scope and implication.
Please know that I love you. I wish there was a way to open up to you now, but I cannot risk your safety. I miss you. I love you. Every night, while you sleep, I stand in the doorway of our bedroom and cry. How has it come to this?
Love, Gerry
Sarah could not stop reading the words, tracing the messy penmanship, looking at the jacket. The release of the tension she had carried for two years was so tremendous, she got dizzy and had to throw out a hand to catch herself from falling backward.
Gerry was still gone. This much was true.
But he was back now, too. The letter resurrected the man she had always thought he was, replacing the version of him she had feared he’d become.
If only he had known the other half of the story. Had he been aware that the boy he wanted to protect was of a different species? Or maybe he had realized that from the scans …
Bringing the jacket across her lap, she put the letter back in the envelope and returned everything to the inside pocket. For some reason, she wanted to leave it all exactly as Gerry had. It was like their last embrace.
There was no bringing him back. And no going back to who she’d been when they’d been together. Murhder had changed her. Nate had changed her. Her knowledge of that species had changed her.
Time had changed her.
But this … brought a measure of peace that she desperately needed.
Shifting up onto her knees, she hung the jacket over the slacks and set the suit back on the dowel inside the box. There was no re-sticking the tape on the top. It was two years old to begin with, and had lost a lot of its adhesive properties. She tucked the four flaps into each other, however, and she would return with better tape later.
Sarah stood at the box with her palms on the closed top for a while. It seemed appropriate to take a moment. And she would make sure that wherever she went, the suit came with her. She would not leave him behind, even if Gerry was not a part of her future.
He had played a substantial role in her past, for sure.
The loss of Murhder was still going to hurt like hell. But at least it wasn’t compounded by the sense that the man she had almost married hadn’t been who she’d believed him to be.
Fucking Kraiten.