“I can bar him from visiting anywhere on this floor,” Helen said, her pen halting on the metal edge of her clipboard.

“I’ll put a strict no-visit note at the security desk downstairs before my shift is over.”

“Do it,” I said, straightening up next to the bed.

By a quarter to eight that evening, the sun had dropped behind the old oaks at the edge of the churchyard.

I stood on the wooden porch of the rectory, sweeping dry autumn leaves off the top step with a worn straw broom.

Wade sat at the porch table under the yellow bug light with three big black ledgers open side by side in front of him.