The rattle in the dashboard died away, leaving only the sound of rain drumming on the aluminum gutters overhead.

I climbed the three creaky wooden steps, the flattened hospital scrap in my coat pocket.

I knocked four times on the faded door frame.

Yellow light spilled through the curtains onto the wooden porch boards.

A deadbolt slid back, and the heavy inner door swung open six inches.

An older woman stood in the entry beneath the yellow bulb.

Her silver hair was pinned back, framing gray-green eyes and a thin crescent scar along the left side under her chin.

She looked at my eyes, then down at my coat, then back up at my face, without moving.