Chapter 38

• The café was almost empty by the time I arrived. A few couples lingered at the far tables, their voices low enough to blend into the gentle hum of background music. I spotted her before she saw me.
• Lena Nyarko.
• She didn’t look like the woman I had imagined. She was younger, sharper around the eyes. She wore a black turtleneck under a beige trench, sleeves pushed up, and she sat with her back straight, like someone who had grown used to holding uncomfortable truths without flinching. Her fingers were long and bare, no rings, no polish, just a silver watch and a thin stack of papers beside her untouched coffee.