He reached into his briefcase.
“I brought something.”
It was a printed calendar.
March seventeenth was circled.
Beneath Dr. Leland’s appointment appeared another entry scheduled at 6:30 that evening.
VANESSA — PRIVATE.
I frowned.
“Vanessa was here?”
Mark nodded.
“For nearly two hours.”
“I don’t remember.”
“She asked me not to put details in the system.”
Rachel looked at him sharply.
“Why?”
“I never knew.”
The following morning Vanessa came to see me.
I expected evasions.
Instead, she walked into the library, removed her coat, and placed a small metal key on the table between us.
“I hoped I would never need to give you this,” she said.
I stared at it.
“What does it open?”
“A safe-deposit box.”
“Yours?”
“No.”
Her eyes met mine.
“Elena’s.”
I looked at Rachel.
Vanessa continued.
“March seventeenth was the night Elena called me.”
“Why you?”
“Because she was frightened that records were being moved around without anyone keeping track of which versions were original.”
