A fire was already crackling in the small hearth in the living room.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Dr. Hale said, setting his medical bag on a wooden table.

“I will prepare some tea,” he added, walking toward the small kitchen.

I sat down on the edge of a plain green sofa, my hands trembling slightly in my lap.

Vincent entered a few minutes later, shaking the rain from his dark hat.

He sat on the armchair opposite me, his posture straight and formal.

“The grand jury will hear your statement on Thursday morning,” Vincent said.

“Miller has secured the federal warrants,” he added.

“What about Paul?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“Paul tried to contact Corrado’s people for protection,” Vincent said, his face expressionless.

“But Corrado is busy trying to save his own skin,” he continued.

“They will both be taken into custody before sunrise,” Vincent said.

The tea kettle began to whistle in the kitchen, a sharp, homely sound.

Dr. Hale returned with two ceramic mugs on a tray, placing one in front of me.

“Drink this, Lena,” Dr. Hale said gently. “You need to rest.”