She shut the binder and laid her pen down beside it.

“The tech team finished going through the cloud storage from your father’s smart home security system at dawn.”

“What’s on the video?” I asked.

“The angle from above the breakfast nook is perfectly clear,” Detective Mitchell said in her calm, even voice.

“It shows your sister took the heavy iron skillet off the stovetop, took three steps toward the little table, and threw it straight at Emma.”

I sat without moving in the hard wooden chair, looking at the black folder between us.