wanted to see whether your father would tell you the truth.”
“He didn’t.”
“No.”
“What else was in the envelope?”
“This key.”
She placed it in my palm.
It was small and brass, with the number 314 engraved along one side.
“What does it open?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I have spent six months trying to find out.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Because the letter said the key belonged to Ethan’s wife.”
A knock interrupted us.
The neurologist entered.
His face was serious but not grim.
“Mrs. Thornton, Mr. Thornton is awake again.”
We hurried across the hall.
This time, Ethan’s eyes remained open when we entered.
The doctor asked him to blink once for yes and twice for no. Ethan followed every instruction.
“Do you know your name?”
One blink.
“Do you know where you are?”
One blink.
“Do you recognize your grandmother?”
