"He wrote it a few weeks before he died. I found it after the funeral."
She handed him the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
Isaiah recognized Leonard's uneven block letters.
He read silently.
Then his face changed.
Naomi watched him.
"Dad?"
He shook his head slightly.
He reached the end.
Then handed the letter to Naomi.
She read it carefully.
Chief,
I appreciate all the rides and all the help. I know you get tired of hearing me complain about that car, but I want you to understand something.
I don't need the trooper to be afraid of me. I need the people reviewing complaints to be willing to check.
I was wrong about things in my life. When I was wrong, I had to answer for it. I don't understand why somebody with a badge shouldn't have to do the same.
If I don't get this fixed, please don't spend the rest of your life angry on my account.
Help somebody else get an answer sooner.
Your friend, Leonard.
Naomi lowered the paper.
Isaiah stared toward the window.
Tessa wiped her eyes.
"He never wanted to be famous."
Naomi nodded.
"Neither does my father."
Tessa smiled sadly.
"Then maybe they'll understand each other."
Isaiah folded the letter with trembling hands.
He looked toward Leonard's photograph.
Then he whispered, "I wish you'd told me this while you were here, old friend."
Meanwhile, Trooper Derek Malloy was discovering that the consequences of his roadside conduct might be more serious than he first believed.
He had been placed on administrative leave pending review.
His patrol vehicle had been secured.
The associated camera recordings had been preserved.
His incident report was under examination.
And the department's professional standards unit had begun interviewing witnesses.
Malloy sat inside the office of his attorney, a fifty-eight-year-old former prosecutor named Charles Harlan.
The office overlooked a busy commercial street.
Malloy wore a blue button-down shirt and dark trousers.
Without his uniform, he looked less imposing.
But his irritation remained.
"This woman is blowing it out of proportion."
Harlan studied the incident summary.
"Did you tear up her license?"
Malloy leaned back.
"I believed it was fake."
"Did you verify that belief before destroying it?"
"No."
"Did dispatch later confirm it was valid?"
"Yes."
Harlan looked up.
"Did you kick her car?"
Malloy stared toward the window.
"I made contact with it."
Harlan closed the folder.
"Derek."
Malloy sighed.
"Yes."