Chapter 91: Folder Three
The locker room at the back of the Seventh Division barracks was the only place in the building Caleb had ever been alone in. Even there it was usually a near thing.
He sat on the metal bench at twenty-two-hundred with the three folders from the filing cabinet open in his lap and the photograph from the desk drawer pressed flat under his thigh so it would not curl.
Folder one held coded shipping manifests, nineteen years old, watermarked with a sponsor stamp Caleb did not recognize.
Folder two held a list of names, handwritten by his father, with a date next to each name. Six of the names had a single mark next to them, drawn in the same vocabulary as the kettle, the sample, the drudger, the statues. Eleven of the names had no mark. The names with marks were dated. The names without marks were not.
Folder three was the one he had been afraid to open.
He opened it.
The folder held one piece of paper.
The piece of paper held a name.
*Caleb Mercer.*
