Julian smoothed the sharp horizontal crease of the legal pad with the flat of his thumb.
The graphite strokes on the second page pressed so deep into the yellow fiber that the paper had stretched thin around the lettering. His father had written fast here, racing against the relay clock.
“Take your time, Julian,” Elena whispered. She stepped closer to Clara’s cot, resting one hand on the chrome side rail. “We aren’t going anywhere.”
Mac Cole leaned his heavy shoulder against the door frame of the glass booth. The diesel mechanic’s jaw was tight, his face grey in the blue light of the vault lanterns.
“Start from the top line, kid,” Mac said gruffly. “Let’s hear what the man had to say.”
Lin Mei clicked her ballpoint pen twice. She had her legal pad balanced on her knee, ready to log every syllable. “We need every word verbatim. If there are statutory references or code citations, read them slow.”
Dr. Corvo stood on the other side of the zinc drawer, his arms crossed over his stained coroner’s apron. The doctor’s eyes were fixed on the handwriting, his breath shallow in the cold chamber air.
Julian took a slow breath to steady his chest. He held the yellow legal sheet up to the overhead lantern.
