“If they claim I am unfit, or that I tried to extort them, they can tie this up in court for years.”

We stood there in the quiet corridor, the smell of floor wax and rubbing alcohol hanging heavy in the air.

At the end of the hall, the double doors of the intensive care unit swung open.

Dr. Rao walked out, her stethoscope hanging around her neck, her face pale.

She looked around the corridor until her eyes landed on us.

She didn’t smile. She began to walk toward us, her clipboard held tight against her chest.

Ethan turned to face her, his whole body stiffening.

“Doctor?” he asked.

She stopped two feet away, her eyes shifting from Ethan to me.

Before she could speak, the elevator bell chimed at the end of the hall.

The heavy metal doors slid open, and two men in dark overcoats stepped out onto the linoleum floor.

The man in the lead was Richard Vance.

I recognized his face from the business sections of the newspapers I sometimes used to line the bottom of my birdcage.