“Say that again," Steven said into the phone, already moving.
“She's discharged," Benjamin repeated. “Left St. Jude's this morning. Paperwork signed by a Dr. Colin."
“Discharged?" Steven stepped into the elevator and punched the lobby like it had lied. “By whom."
“Dr. Colin," Benjamin said. “Admin won't give a last name. They're citing privacy."
“Privacy," Steven muttered. “For my wife." He cut the call. “Car," he told the doorman. “St. Jude's."
—
The hospital director met him with the smile people practiced for donors. “Mr. Ford—"
“Room," Steven said.
He was led down a corridor that hummed. The door opened on a box with a bed, a slit of window, a smell that didn't belong in cities that bragged about innovation. Restraint straps lay loose and brown-edged as if history could stain n
