“Looking for this?” a voice asked from behind me.

I spun around.

Daniel was standing in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee.

He was wearing his work clothes, his hair neatly combed.

He looked completely calm, his face devoid of any guilt.

“Where is it, Daniel?” I demanded, standing up.

“Where is my computer?”

He took a slow sip of his coffee.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Morgan,” he said.

“But I think you have bigger things to worry about.”

He held up his phone, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.

The caller ID showed his mother’s name: Patricia.

He swiped the screen and put the phone to his ear, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Yes, Mom,” Daniel said, his voice smooth and steady. “She’s here now.”

He listened for a moment, nodding slowly.

“No, she hasn’t explained anything yet,” he said.

He paused, watching me clench my fists until my nails bit into my palms.

“I’ll let you know if she says where the child is,” he added, then hung up.