“A physical diary,” Sarah said. “She knew Ethan was tapping her phone and monitoring her emails. So she wrote everything down on paper.”

“Where is it?” I asked.

Sarah looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and ancient grief.

“She didn’t take it with her when she tried to run,” Sarah said. “It’s still there.”

“Where?”

“Inside the Prescott estate,” Sarah said. “In the library. Behind the false paneling in the east wall.”

Before I could ask how she knew, a bright light flashed outside the window.

Headlights swept across the living room wall.

A car engine idled in the parking lot below, low and heavy.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled the phone from my pocket.

The screen glowed with an unlisted number.

I slid my thumb across the glass and held the receiver to my ear.

“Hart,” I whispered.

“They know you’re in Charlotte,” Dr. Reeves said, his voice tight and breathless.

“Who?”

“Margaret’s security team,” he said. “They flagged the query you ran on Melissa’s medical records.”

Outside, a car door clicked open.