He inhales a short breath, knowing that she was trusting him to keep this evidence a secret. That she trusted him not to take his evidence public and not to take the accusations of her mother to the local newspaper. Something about that, her quick trust in him makes him feel good, content even. But he had also trusted her with the contents of this room, and he had a gut feeling that it was the right that to do. That of all people, she was the one to tell.

"Alright," he says, nodding. He moves to stand back up, grabbing his crutches again. "We'll see what happens. And..." he jots down his number on the paper pad sitting on the table. He rips off the top sheet. "My cell number. Maybe just call if you find anything. I'd rather not give the paper more to write about."

He pauses thinking that may have sounded rude. "I mean. Not that this wasn't okay. Tonight."