“I know.
That’s why I’m still here.”
He looked at me for a moment.
Something moved across his face that I couldn’t name.
Not guilt exactly.
More like the expression of a man recalculating how much the other person knows.
“How much did Daniel tell you?” he asked.
“Enough.”
“Daniel doesn’t know everything.”
“He knows about Cassandra.
He knows about the apartment.
He knows about the joint account.” I paused.
“And I know about the placement.”
The recalculating expression stopped.
“What about the placement?” he said carefully.
“Cassandra’s father made a financial contribution to the Mercy General foundation.
Timed with your residency approval.” I watched his face.
“Do you want to tell me how much he gave, or should I find that out another way?”
Nathan pulled out the chair across from me and sat down.
Not because I had asked him to.
Because his legs had made the decision for him.
