Ethan turned back toward the kitchen table, looking straight at June resting against my chest.

“Marcus has the file,” Ethan said.

“I am turning off my work phone until tomorrow morning.”

“Ethan, do not cut me off,” Alan said.

“Think about your position.”

Ethan reached down with one finger and tapped the red disconnect circle on the glass.

The call ended with a dull chime.

He stood motionless beside the table for three seconds, staring at the black screen lying beside June’s bottle of liquid amoxicillin.