Chapter 4

The car turned off the main road and the gravel started up under the tires.

Sam drove with both hands on the wheel. He had not looked at me since the hospital parking lot. The discharge papers were folded into the door pocket on his side, and my cardboard box of toothbrushes sat on the floor by my feet because there had not been room in the trunk beside Barbara's wheelchair.

"You'll be in the west wing," he said.

"All right."

"There's a reason."

I didn't ask what it was. The hedges came up on either side of the drive…