“My mother-in-law.”

“She said she was packing her bag and grabbed my phone by mistake.”

“But she didn’t bring it back.”

“And the home phone?” Officer Miller asked.

“Landon disconnected the landline last month,” I said.

“He said it was an unnecessary expense.”

“So you were left in the house with a three-day-old infant, recovering from a C-section, with no communication?” Sarah asked.

Her voice remained neutral, but her eyebrows rose slightly.

“Yes,” I said.

“And they knew Rowan was sick?” Officer Miller asked.

“We had just come back from the pediatrician,” I said.

“The doctor told us Rowan’s bilirubin levels were dangerously high.”

“He needed the phototherapy blanket immediately.”

“Landon said the doctor was just trying to scare us.”

“He said his mother knew more about babies than any young clinic doctor.”

I looked over at Rowan.

The blue light from his bassinet cast a ghostly glow over his tiny, sleeping face.

He looked so small, so fragile under the plastic canopy.

“Patricia said a weekend at the beach house would do Landon some good,” I whispered.

“She said he was too stressed.”