"He never made that visit," Aimée says, when she finishes reading through the letters. "How did he die, Pel? And when?”

"He disappeared," I say. "The last time his papers were shown was in Old Port Station, near Jesson Desrosiers' last known location. He left a will with an attorney, so when he had been missing for three months, the directive was clear enough: At that point the assets reverted to you and Ciel. That's when Duskstreet stepped in."

"So he could still be alive?" 

Aimée speaks the words strangely, and it takes me a moment to understand how and why. "Aimée," I say, "you don't have to pretend you want to see him. You don't have a single memory of him that isn't from a heliotype."

She looks at me strangely. "How would you know?" she says. "Maybe he did visit me once. He was good at avoiding the law, it seems; perhaps he saw me and I never told anyone until now."

"Desrosiers is gone too," I say. "It's in the police report. They found his body with its head bashed in, months later. He was living in a ditch, Aimée, just desperate. Amazing quantities of substances in his bloodstream, a sack of cash buried nearby that no one could account for. Your father's blood on his clothes.” I draw a deep breath for what I’m about to say. “Remember that first letter. ‘Disencumber you of my failing flesh.’ Your father was suicidal, Aimée. He fled Jesson for a reason, did he not? Back when he joined Greyking. I think he may have come back for a reason too—”

She won't talk to me for hours after that. Days, maybe.