Leo's bags were packed by Wednesday.
I had overseen the process with the same methodical attention I gave every task, the inventory of his clothing, the careful packaging of the few personal items Charles had approved for transport, the documentation the school required for a student joining mid-term. The boy himself had moved through the preparation with a quiet that I found difficult to read. He was not sullen. He was not openly distressed. He simply watched everything with those careful, too-old eyes of his, absorbing the activity around him the way a child absorbs things he has decided not to ask questions about.
His departure was scheduled for Thursday morning. I was in the east corridor reviewing the travel security arrangements on Wednesday evening when Maya found me.
