Chapter 27
I opened the envelope the following morning. Not the previous night, though I had sat with it long enough that the lamplight had changed quality twice and the street outside had gone from evening noise to the specific quiet of a city past midnight. I had made myself wait because every instinct I possessed had told me to wait and I had learned across the months of this investigation that those instincts were worth honoring even when I could not articulate why. So I had gone to bed and slept badly and woken before dawn and sat at my kitchen table with my coffee and the envelope and the grey early light and opened it then, when I was rested enough to process whatever it contained without reacting before I had thought. Inside was a single piece of paper. A name I did not recognize. An addre
- Writer
