And then Vanessa’s.
My blood turned cold.
I stared at the page, blinking, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
Vanessa Reed. Visitor. Checked in at 9:43 p.m.
That was impossible.
Vanessa had never come to the hospital.
At least, that was what I had believed.
I remembered that night too clearly. Hannah had been in labor for nearly eighteen hours. She was exhausted, pale, gripping my hand so tightly I thought my fingers might break. When Grace finally arrived, tiny and red-faced and furious at the world, I cried like a man who still had a soul.
Then, after Hannah fell asleep, I stepped into the hallway.
I told myself I needed air.
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