That was the first moment fear entered the morning.
It came in quietly, through the smallest rearrangement of his expression. Concern becoming alarm. Confusion becoming recognition. He looked past me toward the rental car, then back at my face. Then he reached into the back seat of the sedan and pulled out a thin leather folder.
The movement was careful, almost apologetic.
“I think,” he said, opening the folder halfway, “there may be some confusion.”
The Arizona sun caught the top page.
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