Sanchez entered first. I watched from the doorway as she approached the bassinet. She put on latex gloves and gently, ever so gently, turned the sleeping baby’s head. She peered closely at the left eyebrow.

She stiffened.

She looked back at Daniel and gave a single, curt nod.

The scar was there.

“Mrs. Vance?” Sanchez said softly to my sister.

Emma blinked open her eyes. She looked groggy, her smile fading as she took in the police uniforms and the grim expression on my face. “Emily? What’s going on? Why are the police here?”

“Emma,” I stepped forward, tears stinging my eyes. “We need to ask you about the birth. About Noah.”

“What about him?” She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, a defensive gesture. “He’s sleeping.”

“We need to know exactly what happened last night,” Sanchez said. “Before you came to the hospital. You said you were at the Evergreen Center?”

“Yes,” Emma said, her voice wavering. “I… I got a call. Late last night. They said my doctor needed to see me immediately. Something about my blood pressure results.”

“Who called you?”