“And what about the family of the girl who died?” I asked.

“They received a settlement,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “It was handled.”

“You lied to me,” I said. “For nine years, you let me believe you were a healer. You let me believe your mother’s illness was just bad luck.”

“It is bad luck,” Nathan said. “But her memories of that time are dangerous. They are distorted.”

“They aren’t distorted,” I said. “She hid those papers behind Lily’s drawer because she knew you would destroy them if you found them.”

Nathan looked at the manila folder.

“They belong in a secure medical archive,” he said. “They are confidential files.”

“They are evidence,” I said.

He took another step, closing the distance between us until I could smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne.

It was the same scent he wore to work every day, clean and sharp.

“Who are you going to tell?” he asked quietly.

“The police,” I said. “The medical board.”

Nathan let out a short, humorless laugh.

“With what?” he asked. “My mother’s ramblings? She can’t even remember what she had for breakfast.”