Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

of October, at four in the afternoon.”

“Who was working the desk that Tuesday?” I asked.

“I would have to check the shift log in the administrative office,” Dr. Sullivan said. “Only three people have access to that terminal.”

I stood up, my purse strap heavy on my shoulder. “I think I already know who it was.”

“Martha, medical records continue reading …