"Nobody leaves.

The attorney's name was Ferreira.

He arrived forty minutes after Helena's call, slightly out of breath, carrying a leather case that looked expensive and well-used.

He spoke to Helena in a low voice near the back of the chapel for three minutes before he straightened up and addressed the officers.

"My client has nothing to hide and will cooperate fully," he said.

"However, I want it on record that this recording was made under circumstances of significant psychological distress, and that any document my client assisted her sister in completing was done so with full transparency and in Vera's best interest."

"We'll want to see the original," the older officer said.

"Of course." Ferreira opened his case.

"I anticipated that." He produced a folder and handed it across.

Ricardo watched Helena while the officer reviewed the pages.

She was watching Ferreira.

Not the folder — Ferreira.

As if she needed to read his face to know whether what he had brought was the right version.

That look told Ricardo everything.

"This is a healthcare proxy," the officer said.

"It designates Helena Souza as the sole decision-maker for all medical treatment in the event that Vera Souza became incapacitated."

"Standard document," Ferreira said.

"Entirely legal."

"Vera said she thought she was signing a medical authorization," Ricardo said.

"Not a proxy.

Those are different things."

"Patients often use the terms interchangeably."

"Vera was a pharmacist for twenty-two years.

She did not use medical terms interchangeably."

Ferreira paused.

Just briefly.

"People under extreme stress—"

"What did the proxy authorize Helena to do that Vera's original medical directive did not?"

Silence.

"I'd like an answer to that," the officer said.

Ferreira looked at Helena.

She gave him nothing.

"The proxy," Ferreira said carefully, "gave Helena authority to make end-of-life decisions including the withdrawal of certain interventions."

"Vera had a standing directive," Ricardo said.

"I helped her write it four years ago.

It specified full intervention.

Everything available.

She was not ready to go."

"People change their minds."

"Then show me the conversation where she changed hers.

Show me the doctor's notes.

Show me anything that isn't a document she signed six weeks before she d*ed that gave her sister the power to decide when she stopped receiving treatment."

The young officer had stopped writing.

He was listening.

Helena spoke for the first time in several minutes.

"Vera was suffering.

What I did, I did because I could not watch my sister suffer."

"She wasn't suffering six weeks ago," Ricardo said.

"She was fighting.

There's a difference."

"You weren't there."

"I was there every Tuesday and Thursday.

I was there more than you were."

Helena's composure had been rebuilt since the recording — carefully, brick by brick, into something that looked like grief.

But Ricardo had known her for nine years.

He had watched her manage rooms, manage people, manage outcomes.

He knew what her grief looked like.

This wasn't it.

"The trust," he said.

"Vera mentioned the trust.

Walk me through what happens to it now."

Ferreira started to speak.

Helena put her hand on his arm.

"Bia inherits," Helena said.

"Everything goes to Bia.

I am simply the administrator until Bia turns twenty-five."

"Administrator with what authority?"

"Standard fiduciary authority."

"Meaning you control the money for the next nineteen years."

"Meaning I protect it."

Ricardo looked at Bia, who was sitting beside Dolores now, the doll in her lap, listening to every word with the focused attention of a child who had learned that adults sometimes said important things when they forgot she was in the room.

"Bia," Ricardo said gently, "did your mama ever talk to you about the money?

About what would happen to it?"

Bia looked up.

"She said it was for my school.

And for when I grow up.

She said it was so I would never need anyone to take care of me if I didn't want them to."

Helena's expression didn't change.

But her hand, resting on the pew beside her, closed slowly into a fist.

"She also said," Bia continued, "that Aunt Helena wanted to be in charge of it.

And that Mama said no.

And that they had a big fight about it.

And that after the fight, Aunt Helena started being very nice again." Bia paused.