He opened the car door.

“We should discuss professional help for your nerves.

This is not healthy for Ethan.”

I stepped back as he drove away.

I did not know then whether he truly believed his explanations or simply expected me to yield.

I knew that every specific question ended with a criticism of my ability to ask it.

I contacted Frank Miller, an attorney whose office was above a pharmacy on Main Street.

The surname was a coincidence; he was not related to Ronald.