A long pause.
“She’s doing treatment.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“That’s what I know.”
Randall leaned his head back against the seat.
“If I hear her voice, I’m going to tell her.”
“Then don’t call.”
“I hate you.”
“Get in line.”
The video ended.
I could feel Wade watching me.
I refused to look.
“Find the night he left,” I said.
Elise’s hands tightened on the chair.
“Mom.”
“The plan says—” I caught myself. My mind was slipping into strange categories, trying to make order from dates and files and decisions. “His letter. He said there was more he was ashamed of. Wade said there was more. I want the night he left.”
Jonah picked up the camera.
He navigated the files more quickly than I could.
Dates moved backward.
Then forward.
Then stopped.
“There,” he said.
The timestamp was 11:47 p.m.
The night before my treatment began.
