That afternoon, when they were alone, Sam slipped something small beneath her pillow.

“This was yours, Mommy,” he whispered.

“I found it in the drawer with your fountain pens.” It was a small digital voice recorder.

And from that day on, whenever his father came into the room, Sam sat in the corner pretending to play a game on his tablet — and pressed record.

Chapter 11 — Keep Talking

And Chandler, certain he was surrounded by nothing but a brain-dead wife and a helpless child, talked.