It's something of a miracle that Nathan doesn't feel physically ill. He probably should. But he doesn't. Just as well. He hardly needs that compounding things. The touch is grounding, and he keeps regulating his breathing.

"My -- his -- investigation team." Now that his head is swimming less, he forces himself to differentiate, at least in words if not in feeling. "Special Provision for Kira. All but him and three others . . . dead. Killed by the notebook."

Heart attacks, most of them. But one of them hadn't been. That one had been a self-inflicted gunshot to the head. He can still hear it going off if he thinks too hard. No. No, stop that. It's over. A lifetime away.