He was right; my chest felt tight, and a dull ache was spreading behind my eyes.

We walked slowly back to my room, the hallway quiet now.

The nurse came in a few minutes later to check my vitals.

She wrapped the gray cuff around my arm and pumped it up.

“One twenty over eighty,” she said, smiling slightly. “Your blood pressure is actually stabilizing.”

“I feel stronger,” I said, leaning back against the pillows.

The IV fluids had cleared the fog from my brain, leaving me with a cold, sharp focus.

A knock sounded at the door.

Detective Harris walked in, carrying a black leather folder and a digital voice recorder.

“Ms. Parker,” he said, nodding to my father. “Are you feeling up to giving a formal statement now?”

“Yes,” I said, sitting up straighter. “I am ready.”

My father took a seat in the vinyl chair by the window, his eyes fixed on the detective.

Harris set the voice recorder on the bedside table and pressed the red button.

A small red light began to blink, casting a tiny glow on the wooden surface.