“Mr.

Winslow said no personal items leave the room.”

“He needs his medicine,” I said.

“He won’t need anything from this house,” Christopher said, stepping between me and the bed so I could no longer see Raymond’s face.

“Walk her out to the gate.”

The two guards marched me down the wide oak staircase, their heavy boots stepping in rhythm behind my worn shoes.

The kitchen staff stood by the pantry door, watching in silence as we crossed the marble foyer toward the front entrance.