He didn’t sit down.
He stood in the doorway with his jacket still on, his graduation gown gone now, and he looked at the prepaid phone on the desk the way a person looks at something they had been certain was hidden.
“Where did you find that?” he asked.
“Does it matter?”
“That’s my private property.”
“So is the joint account you emptied to buy an apartment with her.” I kept my voice even.
“Sit down.”
He came into the room but didn’t sit.
He stood on the far side of the desk, which put the prepaid phone between us like an exhibit.
“I came back to get some things,” he said.
“I wasn’t expecting—”
“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.
