Footsteps moved toward the bedroom door.

I did not run.

I stood my ground, holding the phone close to my chest, the microphone pointed toward the open doorway.

Nathan stepped out into the hall.

He stopped when he saw me.

The yellow light from Lily’s bedroom cast his long shadow across the floor, stretching all the way to my feet.

In his right hand, he held a thick manila folder, its edges yellowed and frayed.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked.

His voice was low, devoid of the warmth he usually saved for me.

“Long enough,” I said.

I kept my voice steady, though my chest felt like it was collapsing.

“You should be in bed,” he said, taking a step toward me.

“What did you give Lily?” I asked.

He stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly in the dim light.

“She was having trouble sleeping,” he said. “I gave her a mild pediatric sedative.”

“You drugged our daughter so you could search her room,” I said.

“Do not use that word,” Nathan said, his voice dropping an octave. “I am a physician. I know exactly what dosage she needed.”