you afraid?”
Silas stepped between Rosalie and the cabinet.
“Enough.”
Rosalie looked toward Gideon.
He understood.
Without a word, he took the iron fireplace poker.
Silas backed away.
Gideon wedged it beneath the brass handle.
One sharp pull cracked the old lock.
The drawer opened.
Inside were folders.
Dozens.
Rosalie searched.
Hale.
Mercer.
Pritchard.
Rook.
Her fingers stopped.
She removed the file.
Silas sank into his chair.
Rosalie opened it.
The first page was dated March 14, twenty-nine years earlier.
Patient: Gideon Rook, age nine.
Trauma following equestrian fall after nearby firearm discharge.
Bleeding from auditory canal.
Partial hearing preserved bilaterally.
Rosalie looked at Gideon.
Partial hearing preserved.
Before surgery.
Exactly as he remembered.
She turned the page.
There were notes about swelling.
Possible foreign body.
Possible skull fracture.
Then a surgical entry.
Rosalie read slowly.
Exploration performed.
Small metallic fragment located near auditory canal.
Unable to extract safely.
That
