Detective Miller flipped through the lined pages, his thumb stopping on the entries from two nights earlier, where I had recorded exactly how many minutes it took for Raymond’s fingers to go still.

He walked over to the armchair where Dr.

Wallace had put his heavy black leather briefcase.

“Do you consent to a search of this bag, Dr.

Wallace?” Detective Miller asked.

Dr.

Wallace cleared his throat twice again, his jaw working without a sound.

“My client doesn’t consent to any search without a warrant,” Christopher called out from the corner.