“Both calls are done,” he said flatly.

I looked at the black screen lying quietly between the paper towel roll and June’s prescription bottle.

“Did you turn it all the way off?” I asked.

“It’s completely off,” Ethan said.

“Alan Vance can email Marcus, and my mother can talk to her steering wheel.”

June let out a tiny whimper, her fingers twitching as she clutched the fabric of my sweater.

Ethan walked around the edge of the kitchen table and stopped right beside my armchair.