CHAPTER FOURTEEN F: A NAME ON THE PROGRAM

The seminar took place on Thursday as advertised.
Trevor did not attend, but Hector did.
Hector had learned that the owner of his apartment building would be there.
He wanted to ask whether the building had purchased a risk report about him.
He wore a clean shirt and carried a folder of payment receipts.
At the hotel entrance, a staff member told him the seminar was limited to registered participants.
Hector explained that he was a tenant in one of the buildings represented.
The staff member repeated the rule.
Hector stepped away without arguing.


A woman in a green blazer followed him into the lobby.
She introduced herself as Nadine Wells, an attorney who represented several housing associations.
“I heard what you asked,” she said.
“I can’t discuss another client’s business, but I can tell you how to request records that concern you.”
Hector showed her the appeal notice that had arrived late.
Nadine read it and frowned.
“This is a significant delay,” she said.
“Did you receive the hearing notice at your home?”
“No.”
“Have you kept the envelope?”
He opened his folder.
Nadine studied the forwarding label and wrote down the name of the mailbox service.


“I can’t promise your appeal will be reopened,” she said.
“I can help you put the question in front of the right person.”
Hector called Trevor from the sidewalk.
“I didn’t get into the room,” he said.
“But I met somebody who knows which door to knock on.”
Trevor congratulated him.
Hector sounded surprised by the word.
“I thought I’d feel like a failure for getting turned away,” he said.
“You went there to find a way forward,” Trevor answered.
“You found one.”
Hector laughed softly.
“I suppose I did.”
That evening, a photograph from the seminar appeared online.
Gordon Pike stood beside a row of smiling property managers.


A screen behind them displayed the phrase PREDICTIVE COMMUNITY INTELLIGENCE.
Trevor stared at the photograph for a long time.
The people in the image did not look like conspirators.
They looked like ordinary professionals who believed they had purchased an advantage.
He wondered how many of them had asked where the information came from.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN G: THE WOMAN WHO CAME BACK

Evelyn appeared at Sima’s grocery just before closing.
She had not entered the store since the inspectors visited her house.
Sima was counting the register when the bell above the door rang.
“I need milk,” Evelyn said.
Sima pointed toward the refrigerator.


Evelyn took a carton and carried it to the counter.
Her hands were steady as she placed it down.
“People have been saying things about me,” she said.
“People have been saying things about their missing mail,” Sima answered.
“You know how rumors spread.”
“I know how letters disappear.”
Evelyn stiffened.
“I never meant to hurt your business.”
Sima scanned the milk.
“You asked me which delivery companies used my back entrance.”
“I was checking security.”
“You also asked whether my niece had started working here.”
“I was being friendly.”
Sima took a breath.
“My niece stopped coming because someone told her school that she was working illegal hours.

”
Evelyn looked startled.
“I didn’t report her.”
“I don’t know who did.”
Sima handed over the receipt.
“That is why I am not accusing you of it.”
Evelyn held the carton against her chest.
“You used to appreciate what I did for this street.”
“I appreciated the things you did with us,” Sima said.
“I did not agree to the things you did to us.”
Evelyn opened her mouth and then closed it.
She left without collecting her change.
Sima placed the coins in a small envelope behind the counter.
She did not want another dispute about money.
When Trevor arrived to buy bread,

Sima told him about the encounter.
“Did she apologize?” he asked.
“She said she never meant to hurt my business.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No,” Sima said.
“But it’s the first time she has admitted anybody might have been hurt.”
Trevor looked through the window toward Evelyn’s darkened house.
He wondered whether she had begun to understand the damage or merely the danger to herself.
He could not tell the difference from across the street.