A Locked Door and a Redacted Line
I turned the pages and scanned the hand-ruled columns, and the dates ran back a full decade, each entry recording a monthly transfer of exactly nine thousand dollars.
The recipient on every line was the same.
The Tagus Clinic, Lisbon.
Beside each transfer a clerk had noted a patient identification number.
Patient 104.
At the back, tucked into a leather pocket, were several folded documents, and my hand was steady though my skin had gone cold as I unfolded the top sheet.
It was an intake form from the clinic, dated ten years earlier.
The name on the primary patient line was Rita Delgado.