Dr. Carter cleared his throat.
“There’s something you don’t know.”
“What?”
“Ethan contacted me two years ago.”
I stared at him.
“Two years ago?”
“And before he contacted me, he had already reached out to other specialists.”
“Where?”
“Boston. Toronto. Zurich. Berlin.”
“Oh, my God.”
“He kept sending me research papers, asking whether any of the treatments might apply to Hailey.”
Hailey stared at him.
“He’s been doing this all this time?”
“Not perfectly. Not consistently. But yes, for years.”
I called Ethan from the hospital parking lot.
“Claire? Has something happened to Hailey?”
“Where are you?”
“Flagstaff.”
Forty minutes away.
“I came because the German team—”
“Birch’s Coffee Shop. Thirty minutes.”
“Claire…”
“Thirty.”
I thought I had only one question for Ethan.
By the time I left that coffee shop, the money would be the easiest thing to understand.
Ethan was already waiting when I arrived.
