He rubbed his forehead. “You know I believe in what you do. But if this goes wrong, you will not just lose the season. You might not work in this field again.” He paused. “I need you to be sure.” Nina thought of the boy who vanished after she waited. “I am sure enough,” she said.
She finally gained a partial victory: a tightly controlled visit to the orphanage, under the condition that she record nothing and use only “approved images.” She agreed. It was the only way. Inside, the halls smelled of disinfectant and chalk. Everything looked ready for a brochure.