Her fingers went back to the neck of her coat, undoing the top button and slipping it closed again.

“You have no claim on that girl,” Rebecca said.

“Why did Paul take out that money eleven years ago?” I asked.

“What happened on the twelfth of November?”

“Paul came to the hospital on the worst night of his life, Megan.”

The wind blew a damp brown oak leaf across the hood of her sedan.

“How do you know about that night?” I asked.

“Were you in that hospital?”