At the Grand Harcourt Hotel in Norchester, a cold, drizzling rain fell outside the window. I sat on the sofa, looking at the two people seated across from me. Ten years had passed. Time had carved deep lines of weariness and hardship into Nancy's and David's faces.
Nancy pulled a document pouch from her faded canvas bag and handed it to me.
"Besides the handover form, these are the copies I secretly made of the surgical instrument logs." Nancy's eyes were red, her voice thick with emotion. "And this too. It's the initial report Richard Sterling wrote with his own hand right after the surgery ended, just as your father was being rushed to the ICU. These are the pieces of evidence I managed to preserve back then."
"I was the first assistant on that surgery." David, sitting beside her, spo
