“Mother’s never had heart trouble,” he said. “Nothing wrong with her health. What else went on? Was she agitated? Did you try to get her to do something she didn’t want, like sign over the title to the house? It’s in my name, so you’d be out of luck.”

“No, Mr. Albritten.” My lips were stiff: this was the kind of accusation I’d been afraid of. “When you talk to the doctors, see if they’ll let you speak to her.”

When he’d finished worrying and accusing, I turned him over to the doctors. While I waited to see if the ER team needed me for anything further, I called Lotty Herschel in Chicago. Although it was late afternoon, when she’s usually at her busiest, she let her clinic nurse put me through to her. I’d texted her a few times from the road, but we hadn’t actually spoken since I’d left Chicago.

“You did the right thing, Victoria,” she said. “Get the doctor’s name. I’ll call him this evening. Try not to worry. You couldn’t do more than what you’ve done.”

I sat in the waiting area, trying not to worry. I made an effort to occupy my mind with reports for clients in Chicago, but the city, and my life there, seemed to belong to some movie I’d watched years ago, one whose details I couldn’t remember or why they should matter to me.

I had several texts from Troy Hempel. did you find ms. emerald? what did the woman you were speaking to tell you?

she collapsed while we were speaking. we’re at the hospital. i’ll let you know if she’s able to tell me anything. did she say anything helpful when you spoke earlier?

she said she’d seen ms. emerald in lawrence, but she didn’t know where she is now, and is worried about her safety, hers and young veriden’s.

I leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and tried to concentrate on my breathing and not on the yammer of the television. One of the torments of modern medicine, besides incomprehensible bills, endless sessions on phones or in waiting rooms, and outrageous drug prices, is the constant blare of a television in every room.

At length one of the interns came out to give me good news about Ms. Albritten: all her cardiac signs were stable. They would keep her for twenty-four hours to monitor her, but she should be fine. Yes, I could go back for five minutes to give her her phone and handbag in person.

Albritten was dozing. Even the strongest-hearted old woman gets worn out by an ambulance ride and an hour of poking and X-raying. They’d given her a mild sedative, so that when I gently touched her arm, she stared at me with puzzled eyes.