“Evelyn,” she said, setting the folders down on her desk. “What are you doing here? You should be at the hospital.”

I closed the heavy wooden door behind me and clicked the lock into place.

The sound of the latch seating was loud in the small room.

“We need to talk, Sloane,” I said.

She glanced at the locked door, then back at me, a small, tight smile appearing on her lips.

“Nolan isn’t here,” she said, leaning against the edge of her desk. “And I have a lot of work to finish before the end of the day.”

I walked over to the leather chair opposite her desk and sat down.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and placed it face up on the glass surface between us.

“I know Nolan isn’t here,” I said quietly. “That’s why I came.”

Sloane did not sit down.

She stood behind her desk, her fingers still resting on the edge of the manila folders.

“I don’t have time for games, Evelyn,” she said.

Her voice was steady, but I noticed the slight tremor in her left index finger.