Chapter 5: What the Manifest Says

The Sentinel's archive room smelled like dust and toner, a smell Sasha found more honest than most of what she'd breathed inside Cross Maritime's glass tower all week. She'd told Marcus she needed a personal day. She hadn't told him what for. Rosa Delgado met her at a folding table stacked with banker's boxes, reading glasses pushed up into gray hair, the same records clerk who'd helped a sevente...