Reed?”
Whitmore nodded once. “Private wing. Cardiac complications. Then they moved him home when it was clear.”
No one told me.
Of course no one told me.
I stared at my name on the folded paper. Not typed. Not some legal office bullshit. His handwriting. Blocky and mean-looking, even when he wrote birthday cards.
“Read it somewhere private,” Whitmore said.continue reading …
