Massimo followed Sister Agata through to the end of a long tunnel carved into stone and lined on one side with cells. The doors that led to each room were low; the occupants of the cells would have had to stoop down to go through. Each door had a peephole, covered in thick mesh, through which one could look inside. All the cells were dark, except for the last one.

The abbess gestured toward the illuminated square.

“She’s expecting you,” she told him. “I’ll wait for you back at the entrance.”

“Thank you.”

Slowly, Massimo walked toward the door. Something about that place demanded respect and silence, but he knew that what he was about to say would bring turmoil to the convent, uncovering a secret that its inhabitants had long believed forgotten.

A nun was looking at him from behind the grille. Her name was Marja Restochova: the two words that had so disturbed the abbess.

When he’d discovered that she was still in the convent, Massimo had been left speechless. He couldn’t see the nun’s features clearly, but her face still held the visible traces of a past beauty. Her skin, almost transparent, looked like velvet, and gleamed in the quivering candlelight.

Massimo wasn’t sure what words to start with, but she was the one to break the silence first.

“So you know my name,” she said.

“I know your name, Sister, and a story that I hope you might be able to confirm.”

“Ah, yes. That story. It happened so long ago, and yet there are still those who claim to know the truth of it.”

“Tell me your side, then.”

“They were all lies, Inspector. Now please leave me alone.”

Massimo heard something shake in her voice. At first, he assumed it was frustration, but then he recognized it for what it really was: fear.

“I’m here to find out about a child,” he explained. “A child who was born inside these walls, and then disappeared.”

Marja did not respond.

“What are you afraid of, after all this time?” he asked her. “People’s judgment? Shame?”

“It was a lie!”

“Your lie, perhaps. And you felt so guilty that you decided all those years ago to renounce the world and take a vow of enclosure!”

“You should leave. You will not get the answers you’re looking for here.”

“Maybe you’re right, but there are other ways. DNA testing, for example.”

She hesitated, then, and suddenly seemed more wary.

“What do you mean?”

Massimo leaned toward the grille.

“We’ve found the remains of a child who died twenty-five years ago. I think it’s your son.”

The woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out.

“You gave birth to him, and then you abandoned him. I need to know who helped you.”

“How did he die?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“He was killed by the person who raised him.”