"Who authorized the transfer?" I press.
"The patient's next of kin. His father."
I pull out my phone and dial Judge Ravenshaw's number right there in front of her. It rings once, then goes straight to voicemail.
I try again.
Same thing.
Blocked.
I'm being locked out.
The administrator watches me with professional sympathy that doesn't reach her eyes. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No." The word comes out cold. Final.
She nods and leaves, her heels clicking against the floor.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the empty bed. Then I turn and walk past Beckett toward the door.
"Adela, wait—"
But I'm already moving down the hallway, back toward the nurses' station. The young nurse from earlier is there, typing something into the computer. She looks up when I approach, her expression wary.
"I'm sorry I can't be more helpful," she starts, but I'm not here for apologies.
My eyes scan the desk behind her — the clipboards, the transfer logs, the scattered paperwork that hospitals never seem to keep properly organized. And there, half-hidden beneath a patient chart, I see it.
A transfer form with Cody's name.
The destination facility is partially visible: Evergreen Private Medical—
The rest is covered, but it's enough.
I commit it to memory, turning away before the nurse notices what I'm looking at.
Beckett catches up to me. "What were you doing?"
"Nothing." I press the button to open the doors.
He studies my face, and I can see him trying to read me, trying to figure out if I'm about to fall apart or do something reckless.
I'm not going to do either.
"If they think moving him fixes this," I say quietly, "they're wrong."
Beckett looks at me. "What are you going to do?"
The doors open, and I step into the parking lot and keep walking.
"If I can't get answers from him," I say without looking back, "I'll get them from someone else."
"Like who?"
I stop and turn to face him. "Whoever moved him."
Something flickers across his face. Concern, maybe. Or fear.
