“You had the letter?”
“I knew it existed.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No. I didn’t have it.”
He pulled out a chair but did not tell me to sit.
“I saw it years ago. Daniel gave it to me personally.”
“Then why is there a copy on my desk?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who else could access it?”
“The foundation archive team. Senior administration. Possibly legal.”
I stared at him.
“Was it confidential?”
“It was marked personal, not legally restricted.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“No.”
He took the copied page from me and studied it.
“This came from a scanned file.”
“How can you tell?”
“The handwritten original had a coffee stain near the bottom.”
I looked at him.
“You remember a coffee stain from eight years ago?”
“I remember that letter.”
“Why?”
He met my eyes.
“Because it was one of the few letters I have ever received that frightened me.”
