The display showed no saved name, only ten digits registered to a private exchange in downtown Nashville.

“Is that your daughter calling?” William asked from the hall doorway.

Richard stood over the little table and watched the blue screen pulse five times before he reached for it.

“She never calls from an unlisted cell line,” Richard said.

He picked up the phone and pressed his thumb hard against the glass.

“Richard,” he said into it.

A rough, ragged noise came through the tiny speaker.

It wasn’t an ordinary hello.