He ran a handheld sensor along the plaster, watching the small display. “There’s a gap, about a metre deep,” he murmured. “Maybe more. No metal readings, though. Just timber and air.” He straightened, making a note on his clipboard. “If you want it open, we can do a careful exploratory cut.”
Lucy hesitated. Part of her wanted to agree immediately, to rip the uncertainty away with the plaster. Another part baulked at the thought of Emma’s room turned into a building site, dust in the sheets, noise in the one place her daughter still slept peacefully. “Let me think for a day or two. I’ll get back to you,” she said.