“Furthermore, we have filed an emergency petition with the court regarding your wife’s mental state.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my blood running cold.

“We have submitted evidence of Megan’s severe emotional instability,” Vance said.

“The police report from tonight is based entirely on Megan’s claims that her cradle was poisoned.”

“It was poisoned,” I said. “The police took the lacquer samples.”

“The preliminary scans show chemical residue, yes,” Vance said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“But we have statements from neighbors and a local delivery driver showing that Megan was the only one near that cradle for three days.”

“She applied the finish herself.”

“She has been suffering from severe prenatal depression, Jake.”

“My mother was simply trying to intervene before Megan harmed herself or the baby.”

I stared at him, my mouth dry.

“She is trying to frame Megan,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“To get herself out on bail,” I added, the realization hitting me like a physical blow.

“The bail hearing is at nine tomorrow morning,” Vance said, checking his watch.