“Without that original page, we can’t prove his corporate transfer was a fraud before the board votes tomorrow at two.”

“There’s one more witness record,” I said.

Nurse Helen met us at ten fifteen in the night supervisor’s file office on the second floor of Oakridge Community Hospital.

The second-floor hallway was dim and silent and smelled of citrus cleaner and floor wax.

Helen locked the office door behind us, dragged a metal step stool over to the tall gray filing cabinet, and fit a small key into the top drawer.

“I’m taking a serious professional risk opening four-year-old archives,” Helen said, sliding a thick blue folder out from between two heavy binders.