“I can’t,” he whispered, his thumb trembling against the glass.

“The local network is completely locked.”

“She blocked my MAC address from the mainframe.”

Nathan did not look at either of them.

He stared down at his phone, his face illuminated by the bright screen.

I stepped closer, my soft-soled shoes making no sound on the hardwood floor.

Over his shoulder, I saw the first video clip play.

It was timestamped three weeks ago, during the worst of the January freeze.

The camera angle was from the high corner of the girls’ playroom.

Vanessa stood in the center of the room, wearing her heavy mink coat.

Emma, Lily, Sophie, and Grace were huddled together on the small rug, shivering.

The heating vents in their room were completely shut.

“If you tell your father it is cold in here, I will make sure you never see your toys again,” Vanessa’s recorded voice said.

Her tone was flat, completely devoid of the warmth she showed Nathan when the cameras were rolling.

On the screen, Lily began to cry, rubbing her tiny, red hands together.