Mario took a folded sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket, putting them down where Steven had been sitting. Steven looked at them, at Mario, and then back at the papers. Slowly he returned to his seat and opened them. After reading the top two pages he shook his head. “How do you…Why do you think this is Thomas?”
“Look at the last page.”
Steven did, staring at two out of focus pictures of a man, one in profile, one shot from a distance. He looked back at Mario. “And? This could be anyone. Okay, so maybe there’s a vague resemblance but that’s all. Damn it, Mario. It’s not him. It can’t be.”
“The fingerprints I got say otherwise.”
Steven sighed deeply, covering his face with his hands. “I…I can’t…” I don’t believe it. How can I? He’s so nice, so sweet—mostly. He lifted his head, his eye
