Room three had a metal table, four chairs, and a recorder the size of a paperback.

Elena set her notebook down, unfolded a manila folder, and slid a clear bag across the table.

Inside was the bracket.

The empty metal bracket, screws still in it.

Marcus glanced at it and looked at the wall.

“That’s hardware from a dining chair.”

“It was attached to the underside of your daughter’s chair,” Elena said.

She tapped her pen on the notebook cover.