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

And tell them not to move the towel.”

She lowered the phone but kept it in her hand.

Down the hall, Marcus’s voice carried from the lobby, sharp and low, asking for a manager.

Elena didn’t turn around.

“Go back to your chair, Michael.

We’ll take your statement in the morning.

The cafeteria opens at six.”

I didn’t move.