Arthur struck the hospital wall hard enough to rattle the framed print above him.
“That burned,” he repeated.
“The notebook, the photographs—everything burned.”
Uncle Ray looked at him without expression.
His hearing aids remained on the steel tray beside the battered Zippo lighter.
He could not hear Arthur’s voice clearly now, but he had spent a lifetime reading lips.
He understood every word.
Ray opened the black field notebook.
The first page contained a faded photograph sealed beneath clear plastic.
Four young soldiers stood in front of a sandbagged bunker.
One was Ray, thin and unsmiling.
Another was Arthur, decades before tailored suits and private aircraft.
Between them stood a broad-faced sergeant holding the same brass lighter.
Arthur pushed away from the wall.
“Put that away.”
Derek looked from his father to Ray.
“What is this?”
Arthur ignored him.
Ray turned the phone so its speaker faced the room.
The woman on the line identified herself as Mara Lin, counsel for the independent directors of Cross Meridian Industries.
“All eleven directors are present,” she said.
“Mr.
Ray, are you authorizing release of the archive?”
Arthur lunged toward the phone.
Ray moved one hand.
He did not strike Arthur.
He simply slid the device beyond his reach and positioned himself between both Cross men and my bed.
I held Lily closer.
She made a soft, questioning sound against my chest.
Derek pointed at Ray.
“Get this lunatic out of here.”
The hospital door opened before anyone could respond.
A nurse entered with two security officers.
She took one look at the bruises on my neck, Derek’s clenched hands, and Ray standing guard beside the bed.
“What happened?” she asked.
Derek’s expression transformed instantly.
His shoulders dropped.
His voice softened.
“My wife is exhausted and confused.
Her uncle frightened her.”
Arthur recovered almost as quickly.
“There has been a misunderstanding.
I’ll have our family physician handle it.”
The nurse did not look at him.
She looked at me.
“Did someone hurt you?”
My mouth went dry.
Derek’s stare fixed on my face, warning me to remember the house, the money, and the lawyers waiting behind his name.
Then I saw the pink rabbit beside my pillow.
“Yes,” I said.
“My husband put his hands around my throat.
He just tried to take my baby.”
Derek laughed once.
“She’s delirious.”
“The camera recorded him,” I said.
His eyes snapped toward the rabbit.
