All I want is for her to stay calm and look after her health.”
My mother patted his arm in approval and left me sitting silently at the end of the table.

By two o’clock that afternoon we were back in our living room in suburban Oak Creek.

David perched on the edge of the dark leather armchair, took his smartphone out of his breast pocket and tapped the glass three times.

He laid the phone right in the middle of the glass coffee table between us and turned on the speaker.

The line rang twice, and then a recording picked up.