His Emergency Hearing Opened With the Signature He Had Forgotten

Victor came to the courthouse wearing a tie the color of wet slate.

He glanced at my plain dress, then at Miriam's scuffed case. His face settled into the look he used when a bill was beneath him.

I had slept four hours. My ledger weighed down my bag.

"Read the question," Miriam murmured. "Answer the question. Let silence be silence."

His lawyer asked the judge for an order directing me to return all the maps and related sheets at once. He called them personal property wrongfully taken from his client.

A government lawyer had filed notice of the federal seizure. That alone created a problem with the relief Victor wanted. But his papers also accused me of making up the pencil marks after delivery.

Miriam wanted that claim answered on the record.

"Ms. Economou, did Mr. Dray give you instructions about these objects?"

"Yes."

"Did you record them?"

"In the intake ledger, while he stood beside me."

She placed an enlarged copy on the stand and offered the original for inspection.

Victor's lawyer stood.

"Our position is that any disposal discussion concerned packing waste."

The judge looked down at the page.

"It says twelve antique maps and all removed backing."

"My client disputes the witness's account."

"Does he dispute these initials?"

The lawyer asked for a moment with Victor.

The judge allowed it. I could hear the air vent over the stand and a woman turning pages in the back row.

I had imagined this moment so often that I expected to feel taller. Instead, my mouth was dry. I asked for water, took one drink, and put the cup well away from the open ledger.

Miriam waited until I was ready.

"Is this the book you use for ordinary jobs as well?"

"Yes. The entries before and after his have signed receipts too."

She let the judge examine those pages. My record hadn't begun when I became afraid of Victor.

I looked at my hands. A dried edge of paste sat beside my thumbnail. I had missed it while dressing.

They thought I was a woman with overdue bills and a rubber stamp. I held a permanent record of every object I touched, including the instruction he now wanted to deny.

He could buy my loan. He couldn't buy yesterday back out of my book.

Miriam walked me through the images. Each backing sheet appeared with its number while still in the drying rack. The original files had been copied before the courier arrived. The agency examiner had checked them and their dates against the camera card.

"Did you add any marks?" she asked.

"Only labels on separate supports. Nothing on the objects."

"Were all associated materials destroyed?"

"No. I never certified that they were."

His lawyer held up the deposit receipt.

"You accepted money from my client."

"For examination. I returned the full deposit."

Miriam supplied the bank confirmation.

"And you are now paid by investigators?"

"For recorded hours identifying paper and documenting treatment. Eighty-five dollars an hour. My fee doesn't depend on what I find."

I had been ashamed of that rate when Nathaniel first asked. On the stand, I was glad of every plain word in the agreement.

The judge denied Victor's emergency request. She made no finding of criminal guilt. She did order both sides to preserve records relevant to the civil case.

Outside the courtroom, Victor stepped into my path.

"You had a good business once."

Miriam stopped beside me.

"Send any further statement to my office."

He looked past her.

"Paper burns, Calliope."

I said nothing. Miriam noted the time and the name of the court officer who had heard him.

Later, she filed my answer and counterclaim, with the false report and the lost-work records attached. Her letter to the loan company disputed its early demand and asked for the complete loan history.

That evening, Nathaniel met me at the secure workroom. He brought soup in sealed containers. The coffee waited on the side table, safely beyond reach of the paper.

"Four more sites," he said. "The teams recovered ten additional works. Eleven altogether now."

"And the sixth?"

"A freight depot. Several tenants. We're checking which space belongs to whom."

"Do you ever get tired of waiting?"

"Yes."

He said it so quickly I laughed.

Then he added, "Being tired doesn't make guessing safe."

My sleeve had folded under itself. Without thinking, I held out my wrist so he could free the cuff from a button. He did it slowly, then let go.

We ate while rain moved across the courtyard. For once, I didn't hear the loan balance in every quiet moment.

At eleven, the office phone rang. Ortiz answered, listened, and held it out to Nathaniel.

He put the call on speaker after getting the caller's consent.

I recognized Ellis Crane's voice.

"I need a lawyer," he said. "Before the five o'clock truck leaves."