“Call from my phone,” I said, handing it to him. “He won’t answer an unknown police number.”

Harris took my phone and found Landon’s contact name.

He hit the dial button and switched the call to speakerphone.

The ringing sound was loud in the small, quiet room, punctuated only by the steady beep of Rowan’s heart monitor.

It rang four times, five times, six times.

I thought it would go to voicemail, but then the line clicked open.

The sound of loud wind, distant steel drums, and laughter filtered through the speaker.

“Marissa, stop calling me,” Landon’s voice came through, loud and annoyed.

“I told you, we are in the Bahamas, and the roaming charges are ridiculous.”

“Patricia says you are just trying to ruin our trip because you didn’t get your way.”

I felt a cold sensation wash over my skin at the sound of his voice, so casual and unbothered.

Officer Harris leaned closer to the phone, his voice steady and official.

“Mr. Bellamy, this is Officer Harris of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department.”

The background noise on the other end didn’t stop, but Landon’s voice suddenly grew quiet.