Chapter 24 · The Last Word

The call came at four in the morning.

Vivian was still dressed. She'd been sitting in the library for six hours, Roy's files spread across the desk like entrails. Numbers that didn't add up. Transfers dated three days after her father signed documents he never remembered signing. She had everything and nothing.

The nurse's voice on the line was professionally calm. "Miss Ashford. You should come now."

She didn't ask why. She knew.

The Packard's engine was cold. Her hands shook on the wheel. The streets were empty, slick with rain that hadn't been there when she came home. She ran two red lights. Didn't care. A cop on the corner turned his head but didn't follow.

St. Mary's Hospital smelled like carbolic and roses. Someone had left flowers in the lobby. They were wilting. The night shift nurse met her at the elevator, already moving.

"He asked for you," the nurse said. "Twenty minutes ago. He hasn't spoken since."

"Is he—"

"Conscious. Barely."

The elevator took a century. Vivian watched the numbers crawl. Second floor. Third. Her father's room was on the fourth. Private wing.