She found Jessa again by the wall, folding an old flyer. “I know you checked,” Jessa said without looking up. “The file is not moving.” Nina kept her tone even. “How do you know all this?” Jessa smiled wryly. “Because I used to stare at the files eight hours a day.”
“Where did you work exactly?” Nina asked. Jessa nodded toward the orphanage, then pointed farther. “Private agency office three streets over. We kept records for homes that wanted to look tidy. I printed their audits.” She met Nina’s eyes. “I know how they operate and make the numbers behave.”