The brass clasp of the manila envelope hit the glass table with a sharp crack.
Mark stepped back, wiping a streak of gray dust from the cuff of his jacket. He smelled faintly of mildew and industrial solvent. "The digital scrub gave us nothing. We had to go physical. A retired archivist in Queens took ten thousand dollars in cash to unlock a condemned municipal storage unit."
Julianne pulled the thick, brittle stack of paper free.
The edges of the documents flaked under her fingertips, leaving a fine, yellowed residue on the polished glass. Across the room, coffee dripped steadily into the carafe. Christian leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the exchange in silence.
"Thirty-year-old maternity records," Mark continued, tapping the top page with his index finger. "The clinic cl
