“The digital signature points to a laptop registered to Melanie Sullivan,” Vance replied.

The door clicked open again, wider this time.

Leo walked in, carrying a cardboard tray with two paper cups of black coffee.

He stopped dead when he saw the two detectives standing near my chair.

The paper cups tilted, spilling dark liquid onto his work boots.

“Grace?” Leo asked, his eyes darting between me and the police badges. “What’s going on?”

“They found my phone, Leo,” I said.

Leo set the coffee tray down on a side table with a loud clatter.

He walked over to us, his face pale under the harsh fluorescent lights.

“Where was it?” Leo asked.

“In your sister’s purse, Mr. Sullivan,” Detective Miller said. “She was stopped at the main entrance downstairs.”

Leo looked at the plastic bag in Miller’s hand.

His jaw tightened so hard I could hear his teeth grind.

“Melanie had it the whole time,” Leo said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register.

“She did,” Miller said. “And she was using software to intercept your wife’s emergency messages.”