navigated the rental car into the nursing home’s parking lot. “That’s amazing.”
“He has a few friends,” Ben replied. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about that, but we got distracted last night.”
They certainly had. Hot, sweaty distractions.
“We can talk about it later. We have a big day today.”
The rehearsal dinner was tonight, and although Kelly wasn’t in the bridal party, they were invited. He could tell she wasn’t excited about attending, but there really wasn’t a graceful way to bow out of the festivities without seeming churlish. Besides, it was only one evening. In the big scheme of things, it wasn’t a huge deal.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ben asked, studying Kelly's profile as he parked the car.
She’d been quieter than usual this morning.
"We need to know," Kelly replied, her voice steadier than her hands. "If Lori were pregnant, it would change everything about the case."
The nursing home loomed before them, a sprawling one-story building with beige siding and carefully maintained landscaping.
"Okay then," Ben said, tucking the folder under his arm as they approached the entrance. "Let's go find out what Dr. Whitfield knows."
The automatic doors whispered open, releasing a blast of warm air that smelled slightly of disinfectant, which wasn’t a surprise.
The lobby was painted a soft green with a few couches and chairs pushed against the walls, along with a plant in the corner that appeared pretty healthy. A woman with tight gray curls sat behind the front desk, her glasses perched on the end of her nose as she studied a computer screen.
Kelly approached the desk, her back straight, voice confident despite the tension Ben could see in her shoulders.
"We're here to see Dr. Mason Whitfield. I called earlier."
The woman checked something on her computer. "Yes, Miss Bateman. Dr. Whitfield is in his room. I'll have Nurse Landry take you back. He doesn’t get any visitors other than his wife, so it’s nice to see someone else make time for him."
Whether Whitfield would be happy about their visit was an open question.
They waited on one of the sofas until a young woman in blue scrubs appeared.
"I'm Nurse Landry. You're here to see Dr. Whitfield?"
"Yes," Kelly said, rising quickly. "Thank you for arranging this."
The nurse's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and she cleared her throat nervously.
"Dr. Whitfield doesn't get many visitors. It might be a good day for him, but I should warn you, he can be... difficult."
The universe wasn’t going to make this easy for them.
"We understand," Ben said, placing a steadying hand at the small of Kelly's back. "We'll keep it brief."
“That would be best. He tires easily.”
They followed Nurse Landry down a long corridor with linoleum floors buffed to a high shine. The walls were lined with generic landscape paintings and the occasional bulletin board covered with activity schedules and menu plans. Doors stood ajar, offering glimpses into the residents’ lives. An elderly woman knitting. A man staring blankly at a television. The soft, persistent beep of medical equipment.
Ben's stomach knotted. He hated places like this. Not because they were inherently bad, but because they were a blatant reminder that time was finite. That bodies failed. His grandparents hadn’t lived forever, and someday, his mom and dad wouldn’t either.
He couldn’t imagine a world without Seth and Presley Reilly in it.
"He's just in here," Nurse Landry said, stopping at a door near the end of the hall. She knocked once before pushing it open. "Dr. Whitfield? You have visitors. Isn’t that nice? They came to talk to you."
The room was small but private, with a hospital bed, a recliner, and a window overlooking a courtyard garden. The walls were bare except for a single framed medical degree, yellowed with age. Mason Whitfield sat in a wheelchair by the window, with a small table beside it. He was thin to the point of gauntness, his skin loose over sharp bones,
And he didn’t look happy to see them. Or anyone, for that matter.
