And in the small trash can in the corner I found something that made my stomach drop: two discarded wrappers from sterile mouth swabs, the kind used to collect a sample from the inside of a person’s cheek.

They had been used.

I stood there holding the diaper package and understood, slowly and coldly, what it meant.

I hurried up the stairs to Raymond’s room.

“I think Christopher took samples,” I whispered, my voice unsteady.

“From Theodore, and maybe from me, while I was out.

Swabs.

For testing.”