These were the surgical logs, filled with timestamps and medical jargon.

He flipped through them quickly, looking for the final hour.

I leaned in closer, trying to read the faint print in the dim light.

My eyes scanned the lines of medications and heart rates.

And then, Ethan stopped flipping the pages.

His hand began to shake.

He stared at a specific line halfway down the page.

“What is it?” I asked.

Before he could answer, the dashboard screen lit up with the incoming call.

The name *Daniel Pierce* flashed in bright blue letters.

The ringtone echoed sharply in the quiet car.

Neither of us moved to answer it.

The screen kept blinking, casting a cold light over the papers in Ethan’s hand.

“He knows,” Ethan whispered.

He looked down at the paper again, his eyes widening.

“Look at this timestamp, Grace.”

“The surgery was already over when they called me.”

The phone stopped ringing, then immediately started to ring again.

The name *Daniel* flashed once more, persistent and threatening in the dark.

The light from the dashboard screen painted Ethan’s face in a sickly blue hue.