Kendrick listened without speaking.
All of it.
The bench. The fountain. Elliot's voice saying *it didn't come from your mother.* Dr. Martin Reeves. The private research institution. The correspondence between Reeves and Elliot's father going back twelve years.
When Damian finished, the line was quiet for four seconds.
Then Kendrick said: "Where are you."
"Still in the park," Damian said.
"Stay there. I'm coming."
"You don't need to—"
"I'm coming," Kendrick said. "Twenty minutes."
He hung up.
Damian put the phone in his pocket.
Sat on the bench.
The fountain ran.
-----
Kendrick arrived in eighteen minutes.
He came from the south entrance — not the most direct route, which meant he'd been somewhere on the south side of the city when he called, not at home. He walked fast but not urgently. The particular pace of someone who had decided to move and was moving.
He sat down on the bench.
Looked at Damian.
"Are you alright," he said.
"I'm—" Damian paused. "I'm thinking."
