His voice was flat, carrying no more weight than if he were reading a parts inventory.

“It details the request made to her in the St.

Anne hospital parking garage on Thursday night.”

Arthur did not look at the paper.

He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, sliding them up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

“My daughter is mistaken about the nature of our conversation,” Arthur said.

His voice had the slow, heavy weight he used when he was about to explain why a hardware bill was higher than expected.

“We were concerned for her brother, certainly.