“Arthur,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the hum of the machines by the bed.

“While you were downstairs in the cafeteria getting coffee with Wade.”

I took her hand and wrapped my fingers around her wrist.

“What did he do while I was away, Margaret?”

“He opened the nightstand by my bed,” she whispered, winking her right eye with the old sharp humor I knew.

“He thought I was sound asleep.

He dug through my black leather purse and took out the empty metal key ring.”

“Did he carry anything out of the room?” I asked.