Garrett.

Mrs.

Celina.

Mr.

Barron.” He said their names calmly, and I watched the smirk on my husband’s face begin, very slightly, to slip.

And then he pressed play, and Garrett’s own voice came out of the tablet’s speaker into that quiet hospital room — the recording from the smart speaker, clear and unmistakable: Tomorrow we tell everyone she fell down the stairs.

After this she’ll have to quit her job and stay home.