So Krystal had told someone, and that person had told someone. Now they had found me. Now, with the video, there would only be more coming. One thing I had not anticipated was that such a large property left me open to attacks from all sides. Lonely terrain lay the whole way around—anyone could come and go unseen. There could be people in the streets outside, hiding in the various buildings—in this building—at this very moment.

I groaned and sat up, put my head in my hands. How could I know where the infiltrators were? There was only one of me but several of them, probably, and only more to come. Faces from long ago floated past my vision. Who was to say it wasn’t people from my past? Or strangers? What did it matter? Everything I thought I had escaped was coming back now. And what would keep the hundreds of caseworkers silent now that this video had gone viral? They could disclose everything—the project, their work, the location, even my name. No one would be able to trace it back to them. I realized how meaningless the NDAs had been, how stupid I’d been. All of my precautions had been for nothing.

I signed the papers in front of me without reading them. My head throbbed, and I was finished trying to understand anything anymore. He said they transitioned the power of attorney over to him, Mr. Morris. As soon as I signed, his demeanor changed. He seemed much surer of himself, calmer. Ingratiating. In the old days I would have despised him, but in that moment I could see he was my only ally.

“Morris,” I said. “How much money do I have now? Can you give me a figure?”

He did, and when he said the number out loud we both leaned backward a little in its wake. “That much?” I asked, and he nodded. “Mr. Larwin made some very sound investments for you,” he said.

“I guess so.” The day was still young. Not even lunchtime. I could hear the birds outside. “Do you want something to eat?” I asked him, and stood up.

There was nothing in 201’s kitchen in the way of food. Recent events being what they’d been, I’d allowed my restocking days to slide. My hunger had disappeared, anyway. I indicated that we should go to the main house to eat, and said “You first” as I opened the front door. After he exited the apartment I followed, but not before turning and looking back. The place needed to be cleaned but I felt a pang of affection nonetheless, and the feeling that an era was over, of sand rushing through my fingers, passed through me. I touched my neck, the ridge of the scar still there. I closed and locked the door, then caught up to Morris and led the way.

The day was clear, perhaps the first real day of spring. The sun fell from the sky in a harsh, unpleasant way. The rain had put a hard varnish on everything.