Chapter 14: The Final Audit
The rain had cleared completely by nightfall, leaving the streets of Washington, D.C., crisp and clean under a canopy of brilliant stars. Inside a quiet, wood-paneled restaurant near Capitol Hill, a small table was illuminated by the soft amber glow of a single candle.
Admiral Vance sat at one end of the table, nursing a glass of scotch. Miller sat opposite him, his injured leg stretched out comfortably beneath the tablecloth, resting his crutch against the adjacent chair. The door chimed softly as Evelyn walked in, wearing a simple dark coat over her royal blue dress.
Both men stood up as she approached, a silent gesture of deep, abiding respect born from shared mud, blood, and unspoken sacrifice.
“You’re late, Colonel,” Miller said with a rugged, knowing grin.
“I had to return a badge to the Pentagon,” Evelyn replied lightly, sliding into the vacant chair between them. She signaled the waiter for a glass of sparkling water.
Vance raised his glass toward her, his weathered face catching the candlelight. “To the ghost who refused to stay buried.”
Miller raised his glass to join the toast. “And to the forty-two men who finally got their story told.”
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Evelyn lifted her glass, the crystal catching the amber light in a quiet flash of brilliance. She looked at the two men who had stood beside her when the glass shattered and the secrets came crashing down. The war was over. The ledgers were balanced. The ghosts of Kandahar had finally found peace.
“To the truth,” Evelyn said softly, her voice steady and clear as the glasses touched with a crisp, resonant ring.
