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Tyler’s watch toned, like the warning of a bomb about to detonate.
    â€œI want to know why my wife was here and what Thomas Reeves might have done to her. Was she part of the protocol?”

Chapter 4
    Early Evening, Monday, June 11
    M ORGAN REACHED FOR THE amber bottle. How easy would it be to die?
    She smoothed her thumb over the prescription label, calculating the number of antidepressant pills it would take to cease her existence. She eyed the full glass of water on her nightstand and felt herself breathing.
    In. Out. In. Ou—
    She flinched when the house vibrated beneath her. Tyler was home. Fully releasing her held breath, Morgan took the bottle of amitriptyline and tucked it into her pillowcase.
    Did Tyler make it to the grave today?
    Even though Morgan’s heart ached for the sweet lavender smell of her daughter fresh out of the bath, it couldn’t bear going to the patch of ground that held her tiny little body. The marble of the grave marker sapped her strength with every visit. It was becoming more difficult to shake the coldness and find any light to ease this darkness creeping into her soul.
    Despite her best efforts, even now she couldn’t help rehearsing the pain. Morgan had suffered unforeseen complications a few days prior to Teagan’s birth—complications that had caused her kidneys to go into failure. Despite her induced delivery, her kidneys continued to deteriorate over the next several weeks and Morgan was placed on dialysis.
    Adjusting to a chronic illness in the same breath as trying to care for a new infant was mind-boggling. The hopes of getting her pre-baby body back quickly fell away when she’d had a catheter placed into her abdomen for dialysis. The gallon of fluid that sat in her belly for several hours to draw out toxins made her feel like she was nine months pregnant again, without the joy of anticipating a prize at the end of the road.
    The doctors soon shared that it was unlikely her kidneys would recover from HELLP syndrome, and that she would need a kidney transplant, or dialysis for the rest of her life.
    In her mind, she could still see Tyler as he came into the kitchen during those days. His routine was to undress in the mudroom and to put contaminated clothing directly in the wash. Teagan had been born in the middle of flu season, two days before Valentine’s Day, and they wanted to ensure those viral particles didn’t travel from their clothing to her newly minted respiratory system. Plus, they were at a point where they needed to keep Morgan as healthy as possible, too. Strange how such small particles could survive outside a host for many hours. Just like an organ could be outside a body for hours yet still bring life to another.
    They’d sheltered Teagan for the first eight weeks of her life. Morgan had a good friend who’d volunteered to take care of Teagan when she went back to work. Quickly mounting medical bills had sidetracked her plans of staying home. Her insurance benefits were better than Tyler’s, and they were going to need the extra income to cover those costs the insurance didn’t pick up.
    Tyler’s contract work for Dr. Reeves was both a blessing and a curse. The income was badly needed, but now Tyler was hardly home.
    It didn’t bother her as much as it should have.
    After entering the kitchen, Tyler would pick up a glass of red wine that waited for him. Oftentimes, he didn’t want her to bother cooking him dinner when his arrival home was never dependable. Bad habits came quickly, and he usually got something on his way home.
    It was easy to pour a glass of wine and have it waiting for him. One of the few wife-like tasks she still tried to do.
    That was something she missed. Him sitting at the kitchen island in his plush, white terry cloth robe, sipping a cabernet, sharing about his work adventures. Teagan sleeping nearby in her Pack ’n Play. Morgan rummaging through the refrigerator, trying