She remembered a brick building with a green awning, a hallway that smelled of floor polish, and a framed photograph of a covered bridge near the reception desk.

“The nurse had purple glasses,” Sadie said.

“She gave me a sticker with an owl on it.”

It was the first thing she’d said all day that sounded like a normal fifteen-year-old remembering a place she’d been.

“Do you remember whether they gave Dad papers?” Elise asked.

Sadie pressed her lips together.

“I saw an envelope.

In the car he said the whole thing had been a mistake and tore something up.”