Chapter 19 - PRITCHARD
Thomas Pritchard lived in Virginia.
Small house.
Clean yard.
American flag on the porch.
He opened the door before Daniel knocked.
Sixty-three.
Gray hair.
Bad knee.
Fear in his face.
“Danny.”
Daniel hated that he still remembered the voice.
“You knew I was coming.”
Pritchard looked toward the federal sedan.
“Yes.”
Daniel stayed outside.
“So talk.”
Pritchard lowered his eyes.
“In 2009, after the review, Voss came to me.”
Daniel said nothing.
“He said the program was dead either way. Said the materials would be archived.”
“Were they?”
“No.”
Daniel's face hardened.
Pritchard swallowed.
“I gave him copies.”
Leah stood several feet behind her father.
Her expression changed.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
That seemed to hurt Pritchard more.
Daniel asked one question.
“Why?”
Pritchard laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Because I was thirty-six with two kids and a career hanging by a thread. You protected me in that report.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“So you sold what I protected you from.”
Pritchard flinched.
“I thought it was research.”
“How long?”
“Two years.”
“How long did you help them?”
Pritchard looked away.
Daniel already knew.
“Thomas.”
“Four years.”
Leah closed her eyes.
Pritchard's voice cracked.
“Then Site Five changed.”
“How?”
“They stopped asking whether people could function under stress.”
Daniel waited.
“They started asking which people could be pushed past normal limits.”
Silence.
“And David Hale?”
Pritchard finally looked at him.
“David was the first evaluator who refused.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel stepped forward.
Pritchard raised both hands.
“I swear.”
Then he disappeared inside.
Leah tensed.
Daniel didn't move.
Pritchard returned carrying an old cell phone sealed inside a plastic bag.
“He gave me this in 2013.”
Daniel took it.
“Why keep it?”
“Because he told me if anything happened to him, somebody would eventually come looking.”
Daniel turned the phone over.
Dead battery.
Cracked screen.
A strip of tape covered the back.
Written across it:
May you like
FOR MY SON.
Dustin.
