She asked him to describe the circumstances in which the documents had been stored before anybody touched them.
Caleb explained the shoebox, Denise’s closet, and the old envelope.
Selma photographed the pages inside protective sleeves.
She noted a crease that ran through both the photocopy and the handwritten note.
“This can help establish that these sheets have been together for years,” she said.
“It doesn’t prove who wrote the note or whether the figures are accurate.”
Caleb appreciated the distinction.
He had spent a night imagining a photograph of his father becoming the answer to every question.
The investigator offered him something more useful than reassurance.
She offered a method.
They compared the roster with a set of transportation invoices collected during an earlier civil dispute.
Fourteen residents were confirmed to have arrived at a temporary facility in Chelsea.
Two others had signed in at a church shelter.
The remaining seven had inconsistent destinations, including Lewis Grant.
A company called Northbridge Transit Services had billed the East Harbor trust for the missing trip.
The invoice described transportation for seven adults and their personal property.
The driver signature was illegible.
The vehicle identification number belonged to a van registered to a completely different company.
“Maybe a subcontractor,” Caleb suggested.
“Maybe,” Selma agreed.
“We can’t close that possibility without checking.”
She turned a page.
Northbridge had been dissolved shortly after the relocation.
Its last registered address matched a mailbox store near an industrial park.
A former director’s name appeared on one corporate filing.
That director was Philip Whitcomb’s brother-in-law.
Caleb recognized Philip as the man who had looked terrified when Arthur spoke in the restaurant.
“Does this mean Philip was involved?” he asked.
“It means a family connection exists,” Mara answered.
“We still need evidence about decisions, payments, and knowledge.”
Arthur arrived midway through the meeting, carrying the same battered phone and a paper bag of oranges.
He had been examined by a physician after the episode of trembling.
His condition was manageable, he said, but he had been pushing himself too hard.
Caleb wondered whether he had intentionally made himself look worse at the restaurant.
Arthur shook his head when Caleb asked.
“I was frightened, tired, and hungry,” he answered.
“I knew the men would be there, but I didn’t expect Russell to order me out.”
“Why go in wearing that jacket?” Caleb asked.
Arthur touched the worn sleeve.
“Because I wore it the day the first resident signed our guest book.”
