“There’s a video that synced from Dad’s account.”
I just stared at her. “What?”
“Dad wasn’t alone in it,” she whispered. “Uncle Dean was there.”
She pressed play.
Daniel appeared on the screen.
He’d propped his phone on the workbench while checking fishing gear.
He was alive.
Laughing.
I reached for the bedpost.
Then someone walked into the frame behind him.
Dean.
“Dad wasn’t alone in it.”
I stared.
“What is he doing there?”
Sophie didn’t answer.
On the video, Dean said, “I’m not going, man.”
Daniel looked up sharply.
“What do you mean you’re not going?”
I turned toward Sophie.
“Going where?”
She whispered, “Fishing, I think.”
My pulse spiked.
Dean had been invited.
“What is he doing there?”
In six years, he had never told me.
The video kept playing…
Daniel threw a life jacket onto the workbench.
“You need this weekend.”
