“Everyone did. At first, people laughed at him. Some college kid thinking he could fight a corporation.” He opened his eyes, and there was shame in them. “But then he started finding things.”
“What things?”
Dad looked at the flash drive on the table.
“The truth.”
The word settled over us like dust.
Mom stepped closer. “Richard, did you help him?”
Dad’s lips parted, but no answer came.
I picked up the flash drive.
“There’s more,” I said. “When I opened it last month, I found a folder labeled R.H.”
My father’s initials. Richard Hayes.
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