I answered it, my eyes still fixed on Claire’s door.

“Daniel,” Ruth’s voice came through, sounding tense and strained.

“Yes, Ruth?” I said.

“Someone is here at the house,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s Mr. Croft,” she said, referring to my father’s old attorney. “He says he knows what you took from the safe.”

“Tell him I am on my way,” I said, my voice barely a murmur.

“Daniel, please be careful,” Ruth whispered.

“I will,” I said.

I ended the call and let my hand fall to my side.

The phone felt heavy and cold in my palm.

Inside the room, the monitors continued their steady, rhythmic beep.

Dr. Shah came out of the room, pulling a pair of thin latex gloves from his hands.

He looked tired, the lines around his eyes deep and dark.

“She is stable, Mr. Whitmore,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

“Can I go back in?” I asked.

“Only for a few minutes,” Dr. Shah said, nodding toward the door. “She is conscious, but she needs rest.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I said.