Phone logs, archival records, and even some long overdue favours called in by her companion, had been knotted together to form a mosaic of truth; a truth as compelling as it was undeniable, its final pieces slotting into place just days earlier when it had, at last, been tinged with an air of the incontrovertible and irrefutable. When they’d embarked on their work together, Victoria had battled to suppress her self-conceived scepticism; a scepticism born not from her characteristic anxiety, but from a genuine uncertainty that what they were setting out to do would even be possible. It was only when she had dropped the SIM card into the envelope and placed it inside the folder that she had allowed herself to believe, at last, that everything was in place.
They’d made copies of the document
