“Were you watching her when she swallowed three dozen magnets?”

I stopped rubbing my thumbnail and pressed my hand flat against my thigh.

The sharp clicking sound the spheres made when they touched echoed in my memory.

They snapped together with terrifying force, hard enough to pinch skin.

“She was playing in the living room while I made lunch,” I said.

“Did she go into the office?”

“The office door is always closed.”

“But not locked.”