It was small.
Black.
Plastic.
And strangely familiar.
“Jamie,” I whispered, “what are you holding?”
He opened his hand.
Inside his palm lay a tiny black component, no bigger than a button.
One side was cracked.
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The other had a sharp metal pin.
I stared.
“What is that?”
Jamie swallowed.
“I found it in her crib.”
Claire’s expression changed.
Only for an instant.
But I noticed.
Her fear suddenly looked different.
Sharper.
Almost calculating.
“That’s ridiculous,” she snapped. “He’s making excuses.”
Jamie shook his head.
“No. I heard Sophie coughing. Then I heard her scream.”
“You were in the guest room!”
“I came because she sounded wrong.”
Claire turned toward me.
“Daniel, are you listening? He admits he went into her room!”
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But Jamie wasn’t looking at her anymore.
He was watching Sophie.
Her tiny chest rose and fell.
Then she made a faint, struggling sound.
