He stood up, tucking his pen into his shirt pocket.

“We will be monitoring the residence to ensure they do not return,” he said.

“Thank you, Detective,” my father said, shaking his hand.

After the detective left, the room felt lighter.

I felt a sense of relief I hadn’t experienced since before Owen was born.

“Can I see him now?” I asked my father.

“Let’s go down to the nursery,” he said.

He helped me out of bed and onto my feet.

My legs were steady.

We walked out into the corridor, the morning sun streaming through the large windows.

We reached the glass-walled nursery.

Inside, several infants lay in their clear plastic bassinets.

But Owen’s bassinet, the one near the front window, was empty.

My heart stopped.

The nurse who had been on duty was standing near the desk, her back to us.

She was on the landline phone, her hand gripping the receiver tightly.

I tapped on the glass.

She turned around, her face completely pale.

She looked at me, then down at the phone, then back at me.