The door handle turned, and Michael slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him without a sound.

He stood near the foot of the bed with his arms loosely folded, his eyes settling on Emily.

“Emily, I need you to tell me exactly what happened on Easter Sunday morning,” Michael said, lowering his voice considerably.

Emily raised her eyes from the hospital blanket, pulling her sweater sleeves still tighter over her hands.

“At eight in the morning he was checking his tablet in the kitchen.”

“What was he looking at on it?” Michael asked.