“Mr. Banks,” said Henry. “A very good report. The best I've read in years. I read every page last night. Including the footnotes. I always read the footnotes.”

Trevor smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“I'd like to ask about footnote fourteen.”

Trevor's smile wobbled very slightly. He clearly had no idea what footnote fourteen said. Henry put on his reading glasses and read it out loud, slowly.

“Morning customer counts taken by the author from the window of the Corner Cup café, Carver Falls, run by the author's grandmother, Dorothy Turner, from 5 a.m. on June 14 and 15.”

He took off his glasses and looked at Trevor.

“Mr. Banks,” he said. “Tell me about your grandmother's café.”

The room went very quiet.

Trevor laughed nervously.

“That's—well, that's a sort of… figure of speech. Analysts sometimes use… it's just a way of describing the data collection.”

“A figure of speech,” said Henry.

“Yes.”

“Your grandmother is a figure of speech?”

Somebody on the board coughed.

Beside me, Kayla's hand was squeezing mine so hard it hurt.