“Is there paperwork that needs my signature?” I asked.

Kyle looked startled.

“Not right now.

It’s routine.” The stranger glanced at his briefcase as if he had been told to stand there and say nothing.

He left before I could get his name.

That afternoon, Adams returned.

The hospital had discovered discrepancies between the forms delivered by the funeral home and the records available through the medical examiner’s office.

A death certificate had been processed, but the underlying examination notes did not match the categorical assurances the family had received.