He looked at the photographs of the dust on the archive floor.

He looked at the nine screenshots.

He put his pen down and rubbed his face with both hands and said: “Mrs.

Voss, I’m going to tell you some things now and you are not going to like any of them, and I’d rather you hear them from me today than find them out over the next month.”

“All right.”

“First.

I believe you.” He said it flatly, like a man reading a weight.