“Could you clarify what you mean by that?”
“No, I don’t have anything further to say about any of them.”
“Ms. Greaves, I require—”
Amos interrupted, “The lady has given you all she wants to. I suggest you move on.”
Jenna could see Banks was ready to argue. She diffused the situation with, “One of my rules is to never get between the patient and their family.”
“Interesting. You have a lot of rules like that?”
“My job isn’t as carefully defined as most nursing duties. I’ve had to form a structure of my own.”
“So this rule of yours. It didn’t work here, did it. From what I understand, you served as a permanent barrier between the late Vicenza-Watts and his surviving family.”
Jenna could see both Amos and Zia were increasingly irritated by the agent’s questions. And Noah. His body was so tight she could easily see him leaping across the table, taking the agent by the throat. She said to the three men, “It’s okay.”
“Seems to me, we should hold off until we can get Sol up here,” Amos growled. “Teach this agent here the proper way to address a voluntary witness.”
Noah rose from the table, glaring at the agent, who continued to ignore them all. Pretending he was immune to the general hostility. Noah said, “I’ll give Sol a call.”
“No.” Jenna reached for his hand. Liking how she was sheltered by these three men. All of whom had until recently been strangers. Now, though . . .
Friends.
She pulled Noah back down. Said to them all, “He’s just doing his job.”
Once Noah was settled, closer now than before, she turned back. Banks watched her with a different slant to his features. The hostility was still there. But added to this was a measure of caution. Uncertainty. Something. Jenna told him, “The second day I was in Dino’s employ, he gave me strict instructions that none of his family were to be allowed inside his home.”
“Did he say why?”
“He didn’t need to. Sol had warned me that relations between Dino and his family were . . . not good.”
“That would be Sol Feinnes, attorney in San Luis Obispo. You know him how?”
“Sol has served as my attorney since my mother passed, that was almost ten years ago. He’s also a friend.”
Banks tapped the table with one finger. Again. “Did Mr. . . . Vicenza ever discuss his past?”
“Dino was one of the most private people I ever met. A complete anomaly. The answer is no.”
“Anomaly how?”
“Most people who know they are approaching the end want nothing more than to relive elements from their past. Things they regret. Happy memories. Children and milestones. The topics shift from person to person. I think . . .”
“Yes? I’m curious. What do you think?”
Jenna found it increasingly easy to ignore the man’s hostile suspicion. “They use memories to keep hold of life as it slips away. Their focus can’t be forward. Nobody knows what lies beyond that final door. And that frightens my patients, some more than others. The past becomes far clearer than the now. My job is to listen.”
“And Watts... Dino?”
“He only spoke about his past one time.” She briefly described Dino’s account of driving contraband booze across the frozen Lake Michigan.
When she went silent, Banks demanded, “Surely there must have been something more.”
“Not once. Not ever.”
Banks looked ready to press, then started to glance down the table. Caught himself. “Your most recent contact with the family was . . .”
