That should have been the end of his influence in her life, yet as I worried about the start of the hearing, I also worried about what Adam might pull and about his so-called proof. I was at the nurses’ station, shrugging into my suit jacket and talking to Clint about Elle’s blood thinners, when I noticed Adam in Elle’s hospital room, standing with his back to me. His hands were characteristically laced behind his head. What next? Would hospital security let the press in to take pictures of Elle lying there, her head shaven, unable to swallow her own spit? I charged into her room with ten days’ worth of grief and anger, loaded and ready to aim. He was a target. I’d wanted to belt him for years. I grabbed his arm and spun him around. After his startled look disappeared, a contemptuous expression replaced it. “Elle didn’t want to die this way,” he said. “Why are you doing this to her?” “What the hell are you doing here? Security is only supposed to let in the family.”
