“This ties the medical cover-up directly to Margaret’s personal bank accounts,” Carter said.

“We have transactions showing payments to three different doctors.”

“Including Dr. Reeves?” I asked.

“Yes,” Carter said. “But his cooperation will be noted by the prosecutor.”

I looked out the window.

The rain was tapping against the glass, blurring the lights of Charlotte.

Down on the street, two police cruisers sat with their lights flashing.

The Prescott name was already beginning to wash away in the storm.

Over the next three days, the hospital room became a command post.

My liaison officer at Fort Liberty kept my schedule clear.

I did not leave Emily’s side.

She began to eat solid food again.

The color slowly returned to her cheeks.

The bruises on her wrists were fading from deep purple to a dull yellow.

On Thursday morning, a lawyer named Sarah Jenkins arrived.

She was a family law specialist I had hired through a recommendation at the base.

She carried a stack of legal documents.

“We have filed for an expedited divorce,” Sarah said, sitting in the vinyl chair.

“And a permanent restraining order.”