“We can send you home with a few starter cans,” Sarah said, her voice softening as she patted my hand. “But you have to promise to sit down.”
I looked back toward the end of the hall, where the silver elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
A tall woman in a beige coat stepped out, but she turned toward the south wing before I could see her face.
“Is my husband still downstairs?” I asked.
“He was in the lobby twenty minutes ago,” Sarah said, unplugging the blood pressure monitor. “He was talking to a man with a briefcase.”
“Who was the man?” I asked.
“I didn’t get his name,” Sarah said, adjusting her stethoscope. “He had a silver pin on his lapel, like the ones the corporate lawyers wear.”
I didn’t say anything else, but my mind was already running through the potential names.
The Vance legal team had five senior partners, and three of them specialized in family trusts.
I stepped back into the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind me.
