She’d been tired for a long time.
“Eleanor wasn’t confused a day in her life,” I said.
“You don’t get to say her name like that.”
“Eleanor wasn’t confused a day in her life.”
“Marlene.” Joanne’s voice cracked. “Stop.”
Halsey lifted the envelope from his desk.
He held it out to me across the wood, past Marlene’s shoulder, like a man handing a candle through a doorway.
“Daniel, take this. Read it somewhere quiet. Don’t respond to anyone until you’ve read every line.”
“You can’t just give him that,” Marlene said, reaching to snatch the envelope.
“Don’t respond to anyone until you’ve read every line.”
I took the envelope before she could grab it.
“I can,” Halsey said. “And I have.”
I gathered the photographs, the birth certificate and the bracelet then I tucked the sewing machine under one arm and fled before Marlene could get any more ideas.
