The line went completely silent, and the background chatter of the television in Melissa’s house cut out instantly.

“What did you just say?” Melissa asked, her voice dropping into a thin, hesitant whisper.

“She deliberately tampered with a newborn’s life-support equipment,” I said.

“The police have the whole thing on tape.”

Melissa didn’t say a word.

“Don’t call this number again,” Kevin said, leaning forward to press his thumb against the red icon on the screen.

At eleven-fifteen in the morning, Detective Miller met us in the high-ceilinged main lobby by the tall glass windows.

Outside, bright Sunday sunlight streamed across the concrete entry plaza and glinted off the parked cars.