Daniel found her that afternoon on his phone, sitting in the chair by my bed. She’d retired from Carter Biomedical four years ago. The lab had merged with a bigger research group at a university in Boston. But she was still listed as an advisor. There was a phone number.
Daniel called it. I listened to his side of the conversation.
“Dr. Carter? My name is Daniel Whitmore. I believe you knew my father. Robert Whitmore.”
A long pause.
“Yes,” Daniel said. “Yes, that’s right. She’s here. She’s in the hospital. St. Francis, in Hartford.”Find Hospitals
Another pause.
“She opened his letter,” Daniel said. “Last night.”
He listened for a long time.
Then he held the phone out to me.
“She wants to talk to you,” he said.
I put the phone to my ear.
“Mrs. Whitmore?” A woman’s voice. Older now, a little hoarse. But I knew it. The woman with the silver briefcase.Support Causes
