An attorney.
The word hung between them like a locked door.
Mark snatched his phone from the table and walked out.
In the parking garage, the late afternoon air was heavy and hot. He stood beside his car and called Emily eleven more times.
No answer.
He called his mother.
She answered on the first ring.
“Mark?”
Her voice sounded older than it had four days ago.
“Mom. Have you heard from Emily?”
A silence.
“Where have you been?”
“I asked if you’ve heard from Emily.”
“Don’t speak to me like that.”
He closed his eyes. “Please. Just tell me.”
His mother, Diane Carter, breathed shakily into the phone.
“She called me the night of the surgery.”
Mark straightened.
“She did?”
“No,” Diane said quietly. “Lauren, the nurse, called first. Then Emily called the next morning. She sounded… I don’t even know how to describe it.”
“Where is she?”
