I thought about the folder Kenneth had told me might exist if we could get the right records through the right channel.

Then the elevator doors opened.

Kenneth Boyd stepped out — a compact man in a navy suit, silver at his temples, carrying the kind of calm that makes louder men nervous. A sealed legal folder was tucked under one arm.

He saw me first. Then Connor. Then Melinda.

The change in Melinda was immediate. Whatever color was left in her face went out of it. She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at the folder.

That told me enough.