There was something unusually fragile in her voice.
I reached for her hand.
“Vanessa, you shouldn’t have to protect everyone alone.”
She looked at me.
Her eyes filled instantly.
Then she turned away.
“That’s kind of you.”
I wondered why such an ordinary sentence had affected her so deeply.
But Miriam was already examining the material Vanessa had brought.
The folder contained older records from Carter Medical Transport.
Bank transfers.
Internal correspondence.
Copies of contracts.
And a list of storage boxes that had apparently been moved from the company’s original office.
The last page caught my attention.
Most entries referred to financial years.
But one box had a handwritten description.
BCM — March 1998 — Personal.
I stared at it.
“Briar County Memorial?”
Vanessa went still.
Miriam looked between us.
“Emily, that’s where you gave birth, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
I turned toward Vanessa.
“Why would my husband have hospital records from 1998 in his business archive?”
