The room froze.

Samuel had gone down against the nightstand.

Christopher stood paralyzed by the door, his face the color of paper.

And Raymond stared at me with an expression I will treasure for the rest of my life: pure, undisguised panic.

“You’re awake,” he breathed.

“What a disappointment for you,” I said.

And in the doorway, drawn by the noise, appeared Diane — Christopher’s gentle, soft-spoken mother — and one look at her face told me the last thing I needed to know.

“You knew,” I said to her.