Gerald replied within two minutes: *Of course.
Take all the time you need.
Frank would be so proud of you.*
My jaw tightened.
I put the phone face-down.
Paulson met us at a coffee shop three miles from Miriam’s house.
He was in his fifties, compact, with the kind of stillness that comes from years of listening more than talking.
He spread the documents on the table between us and read everything twice without speaking.
Then he looked up.
“The nurse — is she willing to give a formal statement?”
“Frank’s letter says she agreed to.
Her contact information is on the last page.”
He turned to it.
“I’ll reach out to her today.” He tapped the birth certificate.
“This, combined with the letter and the statement, gives us enough to open a formal inquiry into Catherine Reyes’s death.
