Robin closed her eyes. Tried to remember. Her mom’s voice over the phone. We have some good news to announce. Dinner with Eric and her parents at their favorite restaurant—a French place in White Plains they’d just discovered. Cake brought to the table and wineglasses raised. Just the four of them. It had always been just the four of them for dinner. Just the three of them before Eric. When Robin was a kid, her mother had an active social life during the day, with her volunteer work and her PTA friends and her walks in the park. That baby bird. She’d tried bringing home a dog once—a sickly old thing from the shelter. But Dad was allergic, so she’d found it another home. And then there was another time—a babysitter of Robin’s, a girl named CoCo who’d come from a bad home. We have room, Mom had said, her voice cracking. She deserves a chance. It wouldn’t be forever. God, Robin hadn’t thought of that girl in years . . .

Always taking in strays. Dad always making her take them back. Mom’s days were busy, but the nights were reserved for her family. That was the way Robin had looked at it. Her vision blurred. A tear slipped down her cheek. Maybe Dad was jealous of the strays. Maybe he wanted Mom all to himself.

“Ms. Diamond?” Morasco asked.

“I’m sorry. What was the question?”

Baus said, “Why did your father decide to leave Wards Island?”

“I think he just . . . I think he wanted to spend more time at home.”

“Did he ever mention feeling threatened?” Morasco said.

She stared at him. “Threatened?”

“Or your mom? Was she concerned about your dad’s safety?”

“I don’t . . . I don’t think so.”

“So your dad’s patients were never a concern.”

“No . . .”

“In his private practice, can you recall your dad ever having any kind of falling-out with anyone?”

“No.”

“How about your mother?”

She looked at him. “Everybody loved my mother.”

“Okay,” Morasco said. “Would you describe your parents as close?”

“Yes.”

“Happily married.”

“Very.”

“They weren’t arguing about anything recently that you know of?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So your dad sounded pretty happy,” Morasco said, “during that last conversation.”

Robin remembered her father’s voice on the phone, the catch in it. Have we been good parents to you? “Actually, he said he was feeling melancholy.”

Morasco raised his eyebrows.

“The Yankees were losing,” she said. “I know that sounds weird but it isn’t. He . . .” Tears sprung into her eyes. This had been happening lately. Grief, pouncing on her when she least expected it. Attacking. A tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away. “He always took it personally when the Yankees lost.”

Morasco gave her a smile. “I get that.”

Baus said, “I’m a Mets guy.”