Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
“Is this enough for a judge to sign?” I asked.
“With his credentials as a physician, yes,” Karen said. “The emergency hearing is scheduled for next Tuesday at ten in the morning, which gives us exactly eight days to file a response.”
“That is eight days,” I said, counting the square spaces on the desk calendar between us.
“He is relying on the element of surprise,” Karen said, her pen tapping a rhythmic, hollow sound against her notepad. “If we do not show up with a medical evaluation of our own, the judge will grant him the temporary status based on David’s clinic reports alone.”
“My own husband,” I whispered.
“We need to know what he is actually being offered, Rachel. Developers do not hire attorneys like Sterling to secure a seventy-thousand-dollar parcel.”
“There is a locked drawer in his study,” I said, my finger still tracing the silver band on my hand. “The brass key I found in the pantry basket opens the deadbolt on the door, and the smaller key on the ring opens his desk.”
