“Marcus said to tell you the final court hearing is set for January fourteenth,” David said.

“You have time to get back to Oak Ridge.”

I left the library and walked down the long carpeted corridor to my cabin on the seventh deck.

I unlocked the door, walked past the unmade bed, and pushed open the heavy glass slider to the balcony.

The night sea air hit my face, cold and heavy with salt.

The ocean stretched out dark to the horizon under a pale moon, white foam rolling off the ship’s hull far below.

I held the neurology report against my chest, feeling the thick paper press through my sweater.