“It is just me, Mrs. Higgins,” I said.

She stood by the counter, her hand draped casually over her apron pocket.

The brown glass bottle was gone from the counter.

The silver sippy cup sat beside the sink, steam rising from the small plastic spout.

“I thought I heard you,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she studied my face.

“Leo is still crying,” I said, pointing back down the hallway. “I came to see if the tea was ready.”

“It is ready,” she said, picking up the cup.

“I can take it to him,” I offered, reaching out my hand.

She pulled the cup slightly out of my reach.

“No, Cameron,” she said. “I will deliver it myself. Return to the nursery and tidy up the blocks.”

I nodded, keeping my head low.

“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured.

I turned and walked back to the nursery, my mind racing.

I had to get that cup away from him.

Two minutes later, Mrs. Higgins entered the nursery holding the silver cup.

Leo was curled on the rug, his face red and his small body trembling.