“When my investigator lost the trail near Tacoma, I thought I had lost you forever.”

Brandon looked at his own broad palms, then at Raymond’s long fingers resting on the yellowed file.

“I spent eleven years in four different foster homes,” Brandon said.

“Nobody ever came looking for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Raymond said.

“I’m so sorry, Brandon.”

Neither of them spoke for three minutes while the late afternoon sun moved across the rows of book spines.

At half past three, I brought Theodore down from the west wing nursery to the library.