“That’s why you need the diary,” I said, tapping the red leather book. “Emily documented three years of systematic physical and emotional abuse. She recorded dates, times, and the names of the doctors the Prescotts paid to falsify her medical records.”

Rachel opened the diary, her eyes scanning the neat, hurried handwriting on the first page.

I watched her face pale as she read Emily’s words.

“She wrote about the bribes,” I added. “She kept track of the cash payments Margaret Prescott made to local officials to keep her son’s arrests off the public record.”

“This is a pattern of racketeering,” Rachel whispered. “If this is authentic, we aren’t just looking at an assault charge. We’re looking at a federal conspiracy.”

“It is authentic,” I said. “And my daughter is still in that hospital, under their control. They are preparing to move her to a private facility out of state.”

Rachel closed the diary with a soft thud.

“If they move her, we lose our jurisdiction to intervene immediately,” she said.

“Then don’t let them move her,” I said, leaning forward. “Use this. Get the federal warrants. Arrest Ethan. Arrest Margaret.”