“Who approved it?”

“That’s the part I’m still checking.” She put the affidavit in an envelope and licked the flap.

“The notary will be here at eight thirty.

Don’t be late.”

At six fifty I stood outside room 412 with my military ID in one hand and Marisol’s envelope in the other.

The nurse read the affidavit twice before she stepped aside.

Dr.

Ortega came down the corridor with his coat over his arm.