He came toward me when he saw me. “Did you find something? What did you find?”
I looked at him steadily. “You canceled his cardiology appointment, Brendon. You told him not to call me when he said he was scared. And he was scared enough that he recorded a video message to me anyway, fifteen minutes before you called 911.”
He stopped moving. He looked like someone who has been waiting for a specific sentence to land and has now heard it.
“I really did think he was okay,” he said. His voice was smaller than I had heard it in years. “He always bounced back. I thought he was being dramatic. I thought—”
“He wasn’t being dramatic. He told you his chest hurt and he was dizzy. He told you he was scared. And you told him to put his phone away and stop making a scene.”
Brendon dropped into a chair. He didn’t say anything for a moment.
