Hartwell had put this in a folder marked Bennett for Adrian's review first, and said nothing else, because there was nothing else to say yet.
Adrian came to the apartment that afternoon with the folder in his bag and the weight of it in his posture. Renee, who had developed a precise sense for when things were about to become harder, excused herself to take a walk with Patricia.
He sat across from Zuri and placed the folder on the table.
"I promised you everything when I had it," he said. "I have some of it now. Not all, but I won't keep the part I have from you."
She looked at the folder; she didn't reach for it. "My dad," she said.
"Yes."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "He found something, didn't he? That's why he died."
Adrian looked at her steadily. "We believe so, yes."
She took a slow breath. She placed both hands flat on the table in front of her, palms down, the way her father used to do when he was thinking something through seriously.
"Tell me," she said.
He told her. He kept it clear, and he kept it honest, and he didn't soften the parts that needed to stay sharp: he told her about the shipping irregularities, about the internal memo, about the reassignment and the timing; he told her about the two accident reports and what the discrepancy between them suggested. He did not tell her the conclusion as a certainty; he told her it as what it was: a strong and terrible possibility that still needed formal verification.
When he finished, the room was very quiet. Zuri stared at the table for a long time.
Then she said, "He tried to do the right thing."
"Everything we found says yes."
"And they killed him for it."
Adrian didn't answer that directly. He said, "We are going to find out definitively what happened to your father. That is a commitment I'm making to you now."