when he could still take you sailing,” I said. “You did not know him when he was sick. You did not sit beside him while he worried about leaving me vulnerable.”
Then I looked at Bradley.
“But you did.”
That hurt him.
I saw it.
Then I noticed Daniel’s writing desk.
The bottom drawer was slightly open.
I never left it that way.
Inside were old insurance documents, tax papers, photographs, and copies of our cottage records.
The envelope containing those records was gone.
I turned slowly.
“Who opened this?”
