When I asked him why he was being so paranoid, he looked me in the eye and said something I’ve never forgotten.” She paused.

“He said: Families construct the version of history that protects their status.

But cold paper always remembers what truly happened.” A chill moved through me.

“Did you ever find where he put those duplicates?” I asked.

“I checked his private desk drawer right after the funeral,” Astrid said sorrowfully.

“The box was empty.”

Chapter 8 — Cold Paper

That phrase stayed with me for days. Cold paper always remembers what truly happened. It was, I would come to understand, the whole moral architecture of the man who had said it, and the reason his family’s crimes could not, in the end, be hidden.