“I did not.”
“You did.”
I checked.
I recalled being irritated.
On the shelf beside the crib was a blank space.
The baby monitor was gone.
The diaper bag was gone.
The framed hospital photograph was gone too.
The copy on my desk must have been intentional.
At some point, I noticed a white envelope wedged beneath the changing table.
I pulled it free.
It wasn’t a letter.
From a private medical clinic.
Dated five weeks before Owen’s birth.
The patient was Corinne Keaton.
The service description was not detailed, but someone had handwritten an appointment note across the bottom.
Stress-related blood pressure.
Patient attended alone.
Spouse unavailable.
I read the last two words until they blurred.
Spouse unavailable.
I recalled that day too.
Corinne had called me three times.
I was at Tessa’s apartment.
I told Corinne I was in a lender meeting.
When I finally got home, she was lying in bed.
