I had given away most of his old paperwork because seeing his handwriting everywhere had once made it difficult to breathe.
Now here it was again.
Waiting.
I opened the envelope.
Inside were two sheets.
The first contained notes about Mobility Bridge.
The second was personal.
Sarah,
If Rebecca ever gives you this, it probably means I wasn’t able to finish what I started.
I stopped.
Julian put his arm against mine.
“You okay?”
I nodded even though I wasn’t.
I continued.
Don’t turn this into something bigger than it is. I haven’t uncovered a conspiracy. I’ve uncovered numbers that don’t make sense and children receiving equipment that doesn’t match what donors paid for.
Maybe there is an explanation.
Maybe there isn’t.
But when numbers represent people’s lives, somebody has to ask where the missing pieces went.
My vision blurred.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
