“The clerk is holding the elevator for us.

We have twenty minutes to file before the county opens its mail.”

The file went into a green folder, then into her briefcase.

The latch clicked.

The leather-bound trust ledger lay open on the corner of her desk, its pages marked with yellow tabs.

Diane closed it and put it in the evidence box with the petition.

At eleven, two state troopers walked me down the ICU corridor.

One carried the federal order in a clear plastic sleeve.