All over my body, muscles were clenching in tight knots. I was desperate. “Can you at least tell me when her message was created?”

“We can’t give information out about our clients. That would be a violation of confidentiality.”

“But she’s dead.”

Noah shrugged.

“What will the form do for me?” I asked.

Noah sighed, as if I were being obtuse. “Then we’ll check our records to see what information we can release.”

I couldn’t hide my disappointment, but I fished a pen out of my bag. The questions on the form were basic: my name and address, my sister’s name and address, the reason for my inquiry. I filled it in, writing My sister was murdered as the reason for my query. Noah took back the form, holding it at arm’s length between thumb and forefinger.

“Okay. Now you need to go. You’ll hear from us in the next thirty days.”

I choked. “Thirty days?”

“Look, we’re a digital-storage service that promises our clients absolute confidentiality,” Noah said. “We don’t give information to anyone who walks in off the street.”

“But the message said there were files.”

“Then click through for them.”

“There weren’t any!”

“That means you’re not authorized to see them,” Noah said. “That’s a dead end.”

“I came here before talking to the cops,” I said, desperate to spur him to action. “You want them to come in here?”

“They can fill out the form too.” Noah shut the door behind me.

I braced myself against the wall, feeling physically ill. I’d been operating under a delusion, telling myself if people knew there was something suspicious about my sister’s tragic death, they’d help me. If Noah was anything to go by, I was dead wrong. Worse, I’d had visions of myself finding a key piece of evidence, bringing it to the cops, and forcing them to investigate Theo. But I was closing in on a truth I wanted to avoid: I had no clue what the hell I was doing.

I left the building with my tail between my legs. Outside, on the cracked sidewalk, I kicked the side of the building. I did it again and again, until my foot hurt.

Bring him to justice, no matter what you have to do, Caro had written. My sister had faith in me, but it was misguided.

I lurched away from the building, my foot aching. I felt like an idiot. Moving slowly, I made my way south back toward 161st Street. After a block, I heard steps behind me. Turning, I spotted a heavyset guy hurrying toward me. “Hey!” he called, waving.