Three In The Morning
Caden
My phone rang at two fifty-seven.
I was still awake. Sitting at my desk in the dark with the folder closed in front of me and a glass of scotch I hadn’t touched since eleven and the particular quality of silence that a house has when everything in it has changed.
The number on the screen was Romano’s housekeeper.
I answered.
“Mr. Voss.” Her voice was tight. Controlled in the way of someone who had been trained to deliver bad news without falling apart. “Your father collapsed approximately forty minutes ago. The paramedics have taken him to Hennepin Healthcare. They’re saying it may be cardiac.”
I sat very still.
“Is he conscious,” I said.
“He was when they took him. Barely.” A pause. “They’re asking for next of kin.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
