Daniel brought Margaret his answer on a Friday afternoon, exactly as he'd promised, in a folder that took him considerably longer to compile than the assignment had strictly required, because he'd spent the better part of the week trying to find a version of the truth he could deliver without also delivering the woman it belonged to into whatever Margaret intended to do with it. He hadn't found one. The facts, once he'd chased them down, were simply the facts, and Daniel had built a career on the principle that his job ended where the facts did.
"Her name is Wren Calloway," he said, setting the folder on Margaret's desk. "Twenty-seven. Restoration technician, small studio on the Lower East Side, no criminal record, modest debt — medical, her mother's, going back two years. Isabella Ashwor
