It turned out Victor had not guessed my address.
He had asked.
Marco had given it to him.
He claimed Victor was an important associate and the request seemed routine.
When Nia told me, I thought of every form I had filled out on my first day.
Emergency contact.
Home address.
My mother’s name.
Ordinary information.
Ordinary trust.
I had handed over the map because I needed wages.
The scarred man had used it to make me afraid.
Enzo did not visit my apartment uninvited.
He asked through Amira whether I would meet him at her office.
I agreed.
He arrived without the dark suit I associated with people being intimidated.
It made no difference.
He still filled the doorway.
Amira stayed.
Enzo placed a folder on the table.
“These are copies of what the company has located so far.”
“Everything?”
“Everything located so far,” he repeated.
I looked at him.
He understood the distinction.
Good.
Inside were records I could not interpret without help.
Reports.
Correspondence.
An account of the incident.
The name Gideon Moretti appeared repeatedly.
So did Victor’s.
Then I saw my father’s name beneath a statement.
I read it.
Read it again.
It said he had accepted responsibility for entering the area.
The date was November fifteenth.
The day after he died.
My hand stopped on the page.
Enzo watched my face.
“We found that too.”
I looked up.
“Then why is it still in the file?”
“Because the person who supplied it was trusted.”
“By you.”
“Yes.”
The answer did not repair anything.
But he did not try to escape it.
Amira placed the statement beside my father’s notebook.
Nobody announced that the case was solved.
