Patrick had known the whole truth for six years.

He’d bought the pieces of the puzzle from a crooked records clerk and used my very existence to protect his business loans.

I stared at the black burn marks on the heavy paper.

The afternoon rain came down in steady sheets over the empty asphalt of the courthouse parking lot.

At three o’clock I sat by myself on a green metal bench near the side entrance.

The unredacted investigator’s report was pressed tight against my chest inside my winter coat.