“Where are you now?” Rachel asked.

“Heading north on eighty-five,” I said. “Give me a coordinate.”

“There is a federal building in Greensboro,” she said. “But don’t go there. Go to the public library off West Friendly Avenue. I can have a team there in ninety minutes.”

“I’ll be there in seventy,” I said. “I have the decrypted security footage and my daughter’s personal diary.”

“Keep your head down, Evelyn,” she said. “If Crane is involved, they already know you’ve gone off-reservation.”

She hung up.

I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

The sun was rising over the highway, casting long, sharp shadows across the concrete.

I pressed my foot down on the accelerator, the SUV’s engine roaring as I moved into the fast lane.

The miles ticked by in a blur of gray asphalt and green pines.

My mind kept flashing to Emily, lying in that hospital bed, surrounded by people who viewed her as a liability to be managed.

I arrived in Greensboro just before eight in the morning.

The library parking lot was mostly empty, the asphalt wet from an early morning dew.