At four fifteen, Edward Miller was waiting in his office with his jacket still buttoned.

“I’ve kept this ever since she brought it to me three years ago,” he said.

He knelt in front of the office vault, a squat steel safe behind his desk, and spun the dial.

The door swung open with a soft click.

He drew out a manila envelope, sealed with tape that had gone brittle at the corners.

“Your grandmother handed this to me in person.

Four pages.