right next to the time of the stamp. That camera had been pointed directly at the spot where Lily fell, and someone had turned off the power before she got there.
Lily stirred in the bed, her fingers twitching against the white sheet, but her eyes remained closed. I folded the bloodstained scrap of paper and slipped it into my shirt pocket, right against my chest.
Officer Vance was sitting on the bench outside the double doors at half past nine, chewing on the end of a yellow wooden pencil. His uniform shirt looked like he had slept in it, the collar curled and damp with sweat.
“We need to talk about the plaza,” I said, standing over him until he looked up from his empty clipboard.
Vance sighed, a long, tired sound that smelled of peppermint and stale tobacco. “Mr. Walker, I told you last night. The cameras went
