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    I headed for the office instead, without Hannah. Momma had insisted on watching her for the day. Part of me felt a little freer, and the other part felt guilty for even thinking that way.
    Maybe Jerry would let me in the office, at least to fetch Dr. Bradley’s recordings. If he was working late the other night, he was likely finishing work on some charts. And maybe, just maybe, if Dr. Bradley was dictating, the break-in was captured on the recording.
    Sure enough, a pair of squad cars, plus Jerry’s vehicle, waited in the parking lot. Yellow crime scene tape blocked the front doorway, and I imagined the back door was blocked in a similar manner, especially since that was the door where the intruder entered.
    I knocked on the glass door. “Hey, Jer—? Hello?” I squinted inside. Jerry watched a pair of officers working to process the room. He jerked his head in my direction, gave a short nod, and headed toward me.
    He opened the door. “Andi, the office is closed today. I’m sure you know we’re not ready to release the scene, especially with this latest development.” He didn’t wear a smile, and he rubbed his stubbled chin.
    “I know.” I waved a file folder at him. “I have chart notes I transcribed and printed. I didn’t feel right leaving them at the house any longer than I need to. Plus, I need to see, or maybe you could see, if there are any sound files on Dr. Bradley’s recorder. In case he was recording Friday night.”
    “His office has been dusted for prints. I’ll make sure it’s clear.” He turned on his heel, leaving me standing in the doorway. The sunlight streamed over my shoulders into the waiting room and made a cheerful patch on the front counter.
    “He has a handheld recorder. It looks like a long skinny cell phone,” I called out after him. “He usually plugs it into his computer when he’s done, then uploads the sound files and burns me a disk.”
    Jerry emerged from Dr. Bradley’s office. “Is this it?” He held up a slim black plastic rectangle.
    “That’s it.”
    He ambled across the waiting room and met me at the door. “Let me know if there’s anything of significance on these sound files. And don’t erase them. Get your medical records typed, but I want this recorder back.”
    I nodded. “Got it.” Jerry moved as if to turn. “Jer?”
    He paused. “What?”
    “Is this murder, or what?” My pulse pounded in my throat.
    “It’s hard to say right now.” Jerry glanced over his shoulder. Gloved investigators behind Jerry spoke in low tones, carrying small plastic bags toward the back entrance. “I’ll tell you what I told the paper. Dr. Bradley’s death is under questionable circumstances, but until we get a cause of death, we don’t know for sure.”
    “Barkha’s not in trouble, is she?” Bad question. The very sound of it made me want to slink to my car and disappear.
    “For her sake, I hope not.” The wrinkles on his forehead deepened.
    A car door slammed in the parking lot behind me. Franklin Bradley sat behind the steering wheel of a convertible. Its cherry-red paint job glistened in the sunlight. Dark sunglasses masked Franklin’s eyes.
    He cut the engine and left the car. The guy wore the same clothes he’d had on Friday afternoon. “Chief Hartley.” Franklin cut a sideways look at me as he stepped across the doorway threshold, the crime scene tape fluttering away from one side of the door frame.
    “Mr. Bradley, you can’t come in. We’re not quite finished yet.” Jerry stepped forward to block the man’s progress.
    “Well, your lead investigator asked me last night if I could think of anyone who’d possibly want to harm my uncle or steal from us.” He yanked off his dark sunshades, the skin around his eyes puffy, the whites of his eyes a pale tint of pink. “That foreign doctor. Mukherjee. She had it in for him, because he knew too much.”
    “Now wait just a minute, Franklin—” The words burst from my