We hung up, and the room fell silent again, save for the hum of the hospital monitor.

I tapped the black icon on my phone screen.

The app loaded slowly, a small circle spinning in the center of the display.

Then, the screen split into four small, grey-toned rectangles.

The top-left square showed the front driveway of the Brooks estate.

Rain streaked across the lens of the high-definition camera I had hidden under the eaves of the carriage house.

The wet gravel of the driveway glistened under the overcast sky.

The towering oak trees surrounding the property swayed in the wind.

I saw the black SUV before I heard it.

It rounded the bend of the long driveway, its tires kick-starting a spray of wet gravel.

The vehicle braked hard, stopping inches from the stone steps of the front porch.

The driver’s side door flew open.

Ethan climbed out.

He didn’t have an umbrella.

His dark hair was already plastered to his forehead by the rain.

He carried a thick, tan leather briefcase under his left arm.

His right hand was stuffed into his coat pocket, likely gripping his key ring.