Vivienne's POV
Ella left at ten.
She packed the file back into the folder with the neat precision she brought to everything and handed it across the table and looked at me for a moment with the expression she wore when she had done what she could do and understood that the next part was mine.
"Call me," she said. "Whatever time."
"I know," I said.
She left.
I sat at the table alone.
The folder in front of me. The coffee gone cold in both mugs. The city outside doing its quiet late evening thing, indifferent and continuous and asking nothing.
I opened the folder.
I took out the last photograph.
Kelvin's gym. The entrance. Maria Blackwood walking out.
Six months ago.
I laid the pieces on the table.
Not physically. In my head. The way I laid things out when I needed to see them a
