“Fine,” he said, with a single short nod.

“Read it carefully.

Just make sure your endless suspicion doesn’t end up delaying our daughter’s care.”

We walked back down the long hallway side by side without speaking, the sharp smell of floor sanitizer hanging in the air.

When I pushed open the door to room 412, Grace was sitting up against her pillows, holding the new stylus over the lit tablet screen.

“Look, Mom,” Grace said, pointing her stylus at the dark window frame.