“Mr. Williams, we can go to the chapel to talk or the cafeteria,” the detective said quietly after stepping out of Isabella’s room.
Daniel glanced back once more at the closed hospital door before answering.
“The cafeteria is fine,” he said. “We can grab coffee.”
His voice was steady now. Controlled.
The two men walked down the hallway together, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished hospital floors. Nurses passed by with charts. Families sat in clusters of worry and hope. The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee.
Daniel felt like he was moving through a fog.
When they reached the cafeteria, it was moderately busy—doctors in scrubs, parents clutching trays, the low hum of conversation filling the space.
Daniel ordered a black coffee.
The detective did the
