“You don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, I do.”
Her voice sharpened with sudden force, and for a brief instant Clara saw the woman she remembered beneath the illness.
Stubborn.
Proud.
Impossible.
Elena closed her eyes.
“I’m tired.”
Daniel looked helplessly toward his mother.
Clara stared at the blood on the cloth.
Then she heard herself ask the question she least wanted answered.
“What happened to her?”
Michael hesitated.
“Elena left the man she’d been living with about six months ago.”
Clara’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
Neither man answered immediately.
And suddenly she knew.
“Oh God.”
Daniel looked away first.
Michael spoke carefully.
“He died.”
Clara frowned.
“How?”
Silence.
Then Daniel said quietly, “The police think she killed him.”
The room tilted.
For several seconds Clara genuinely thought she had misheard.
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