“Drive me straight to my lawyer.”

Robert’s longtime attorney, Franklin Shaw, had an office in Overland Park.

“That’s almost forty minutes in the opposite direction.”

“I know.”

Robert looked toward the hospital entrance.

Then he leaned closer.

“Daniel thinks I’m going to die.”

The sentence sent a chill through me.

“What are you talking about?”

Robert reached inside his jacket and removed a folded bank statement.

Three withdrawals had been circled in red.

$18,000.

$32,500.

$41,000.

All within twelve days.

“My investment account,” he said quietly. “Daniel has power of attorney because I trusted him.”

I looked at him.

“Did you approve any of this?”

“No.”

My stomach tightened.

“Have you asked him about it?”

Robert shook his head.

“Melissa came to see me yesterday. She thought I was sleeping.”

He paused.

“She called Daniel from the hallway.”

“What did she say?”

Robert’s voice dropped.

“Once Dad gets home, we need to get him to sign the rest before he changes his mind.”

For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.

Robert looked through the windshield.

“They weren’t too busy to pick me up, Michael.”

He turned toward me.

“They’re all waiting at my house.”

“For what?”

“For me to sign papers giving Daniel control over everything.”

He swallowed.

“And if I refuse, I don’t know what they’ll do next.”

I started the engine.

“We’re going to Franklin.”

For the first time since I’d arrived, Robert smiled.

“Good.”

Then he added,

“But don’t call Emily yet.”

Franklin Shaw’s office occupied the fourth floor of a brick building overlooking Metcalf Avenue.

Robert had known him for almost thirty years.

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