My Brother Hid a Recording Module Beneath His Daughter’s Dining Chair
“Not in the morning.
Now.
Drive to the pediatric ward and ask the desk for me by name.”
I looked at the glass of water on the nightstand, the one I had poured and never drunk.
“He’s my brother, Tom.
If I walk her out of this house tonight, that’s the end of something.”
“Then that’s the end of it.
Bring her in.”