“Mr.

Aldridge always locks that drawer when Dr.

Vance calls from the clinic,” Brielle said, edging back toward the hallway door.

“He said those diagnostic files are private legal property.”

“Has Dr.

Vance been sending files straight to this office?” I asked.

“I’m not allowed to discuss executive medical correspondence,” Brielle said, clutching the blue folder to her chest as she slipped out into the corridor.

By five o’clock that afternoon, the townhouse library was silent except for the crackle of a small fire in the hearth.