She told me then they kept him here rather than transferring him to a larger hospital due to unstable vitals. They consulted with a neurologist, and after reviewing Daniel’s scans, he agreed moving him posed a greater risk. He recommended they monitor him for any increase in the swelling in his brain and reevaluate once his medical power of attorney arrives.

“I wish I had better news for you, but Chief Kane’s condition hasn’t changed much since the last update.”

“Much?” I ask, bracing for bad news.

Half of her mouth lifts, only to instantly drop. “At all, I’m sorry to say. The most recent scans show the swelling hasn’t increased, but he’s shown no signs of improvement either. We’ve been in a wait-and-see position long enough that, now that you’re here, it might be time to discuss next steps.”

“Next steps,” I repeat slowly.

“As I mentioned on the phone, the police department requires regular updates to a medical power of attorney form both there and with the hospital. Since Daniel named you but left no further directives, decisions on how we proceed will go through you.”

She glances between me and the bed. “Would you like to talk somewhere more comfortable?”

“No. Here is perfect.”

I can tell she wants to disagree but nods.

“We have three options moving forward. It’s still risky, but we could attempt the transport to Johnson Mercy so Dr. Mueller can perform a procedure to relieve pressure on Daniel’s brain. He can walk you through the operation before you decide, but I want to be upfront. The chance of Daniel surviving the surgery is around twenty-five percent. If he does, there’s only a ten percent chance of him fully regaining brain function.”

“And if I say no to the surgery?” I sound cold, but I don’t care.

“We can continue monitoring to see if the swelling reduces on its own. He’d still need to be on the machines, and the chance of recovery is incredibly low.” She pauses, and I look up, my gaze having lowered. “Or you can decide to discontinue life-sustaining measures, and we’ll keep him comfortable.”

My heart knocks into my rib cage. “You mean turn off the machines?”

I need her to clarify, to say it outright, even though she nods with regret.

“Right now, they’re keeping him alive,” she says. “Once we remove them, he’d most likely pass away quickly, but we’ll be able to prevent any pain.”

I swallow to keep the answer from tearing out of my throat. It would be poor form after all.

I force a slow count to five, and then I slip into my role, offering a performance worthy of Daniel Kane when I play off a sad smile.