The only sound came from Nora’s soft, tired breathing against my chest.

Six days.

I stared at the numbers glowing in the bottom corner of the video until my vision blurred.

Six days earlier.

Eleven months after I had stood beside a frozen shoreline while Coast Guard officers explained there was virtually no chance my wife or my brother had survived.

Eleven months after search teams had recovered fragments of Luca’s jacket from the lake. Eleven months after Isabella’s wedding ring had been discovered caught inside the damaged upholstery of the overturned boat. Eleven months after I had buried two empty coffins because neither of them had ever been recovered.

“Play it again,” I said.

Nobody responded.

I turned toward Marco.