I pulled it out, expecting a message from Nora.

The screen showed an unknown, restricted number.

I stepped back from the mirror, into the dim corner of the observation room.

I pressed the phone to my ear and answered.

“Madeline,” a voice said.

It was Eleanor Thorne, her tone cold, measured, and entirely devoid of emotion.

“I believe you have something of mine,” she said.

I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white against the plastic casing.

“If you mean your son, Eleanor, he is currently sitting in an interrogation room,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

A dry, soft chuckle came through the receiver.

“Gareth is a fool, Madeline, but he is still my son,” she said.

“And the toy you took from my house belongs to the Thorne estate.”

I looked through the two-way mirror.

Gareth was wiping his nose with the sleeve of his gray sweatshirt, his shoulders shaking.

Officer Cho stood just inside the door of the interrogation room, holding a folder containing the security camera stills from my ransacked kitchen.

“The footage of the burglary was very clear,” I said to Eleanor.