I do not know why I answered it.

I almost never answer unknown numbers; in my life, an unknown number is usually a bill collector or a scam.

But standing there in that little office with a binder full of my own surveilled life open on the desk and my dead mother’s brother’s name in front of me, something told me that this call and this binder were the same story, and that I needed to pick up.

“Hello?” I said.