Page 49 of Broken Oath

Tiny black dress.

The same missing front teeth Rook had seen in the photograph.

Tex’s daughter.

Rook stopped breathing.

The fishing trip.

The promise.

Don’t let her forget me.

His hand moved toward the inside pocket of his jacket.

A small plastic evidence sleeve rested there.

Inside was the photograph Tex had shown them on the helicopter.

Recovery personnel had found it tucked inside his vest.

Fathom had intercepted the inventory before Tex’s belongings were sealed for delivery to his family.

They had made a copy.

The original would be returned with everything else.

But the copy inside Rook’s jacket carried something the official package wouldn’t.

A message written on the back in Rook’s handwriting.

Your father talked about you during his final flight. He showed your picture to all of us and told everyone you were the best fisherman in the family. He loved you more than anything in this world.

No name.

No signature.

Nothing that could expose the three men watching from the hill.

Only the truth.

Tex’s daughter reached up and touched the flag covering her father’s casket.

One small hand resting against red, white, and blue.

Rook’s vision blurred.

For a second, he blamed the rain.

Then a tear slipped down his face.

He turned away.

Not because he was weak.

Because some things hurt too much to watch.

Sniper’s voice came quietly from beside him.