She could not promise an outcome.
I did not ask her to.
Lila had been quiet until then, but she spoke when Rowe asked whether anyone else was affected.
“Children enrolled in a free safety program have been frightened away by rumors that police are investigating their parents,” she said.
“We need those rumors corrected.”
Rowe listened, then advised us to document any direct threats or false representations and to avoid sharing children’s details in the complaint.
On the way out, I saw Mark at the far end of the lobby.
He stopped when he noticed us.
For one uncomfortable second I thought he might approach.
Instead he nodded once and walked into another corridor.
I could not tell whether the nod meant apology, recognition, or warning.
It reminded me that the man in the uniform had once been a little boy standing beside his mother at his sister’s funeral.
It also reminded me that grief did not grant him permission to surrender his professional judgment to his wife.
Evelyn called after dinner on Friday.
She had a raspy voice and a habit of beginning serious conversations with observations about the weather.
“My sister says the maple leaves are turning early,” she announced.
“It’s July,” I said.
“Then I suppose they have their own schedule.”
She allowed herself a small laugh before asking what Brenda had done.
I explained the visit, the brochure, and the payments.
Evelyn listened without a sound.
When I reached the part about Mark seeing Mara’s name, she breathed out slowly.
“He hasn’t spoken that name to me in years,” she said.
“I didn’t plan to put it in front of him like that.”
“You didn’t put it in front of him.”
“Brenda brought the file.”
Evelyn asked whether Mark had threatened me.
I told her he had backed away after reading the record and given me the complaint number himself.
“That sounds like the boy I knew before he got so angry with the world,” she said.
I didn’t respond.
She had always hoped the son she remembered would someday return, but I knew better than to mistake hope for evidence.
Evelyn wanted to see every document Brenda had circulated.
I sent copies through an encrypted file-sharing service rather than ordinary email, a precaution she had learned to take after years of managing family and medical records.
Then she asked a question that startled me.
“Has Brenda mentioned the original scholarship account?”
