Karl Cartwright, son of the fool who had given Angel the parlour without providing enough legal documentation, worked as an orderly in the Eagle River Pioneer Home. Three didn’t recognize the name, but as soon as he had materialized in front of the building, he was reminded of Angel’s flimsy attempt to appeal to his angelic side. It was the very same home.
The person at the reception had changed, but this girl wore the same friendly smile the other one had. He leaned over the counter, invading her personal space, and with a hiss wiped that smile away.
“Karl Cartwright,” he growled, making the name sound like something rotten that had died on his tongue.
“He’s upstairs helping Doctor—”
“Get him.”
Giving an involuntary whimper, the girl reached for the phone and punched in a number. She
