“A boy. Healthy, screaming. Diane practically bought out the gift shop. But Sarah — something’s very wrong.”

I closed my eyes. “Tell me.”

“I brought down a casserole. They were parading him around the lobby. Sarah, the baby looks nothing like Michael. Nothing. But that’s not the worst of it.

The nose, the eyes, the jaw — he’s the spitting image of Robert. The old man. Half the building is whispering.”

A heavy silence. A helpless infant, innocent of all of it, had just become a weapon.

“How’s Michael handling the whispers?” My voice was flat.