My Brother Hid a Recording Module Beneath His Daughter’s Dining Chair

I folded the page into my coat pocket.

It wasn’t much to hold, but it was something.

She asked the name of the cleaning service.

I didn’t know it.

“Find out,” she said.

“A woman who comes on Thursdays sees everything.”

At half past eleven Elena walked me to the pediatric wing desk and asked for the charge nurse.

The nurse slid a clipboard across, and Elena read it upside down.