“Patricia’s defense team is going to claim this was a family dispute over custody,” Vance warned.

“They will say you are unstable,” the younger agent added.

“They can say whatever they want,” I said, looking toward the bassinet where Owen slept. “The recording speaks for itself.”

“If we play this at the hearing, it will destroy Patricia’s defense,” my father said.

“It will do more than that,” Vance said. “It will put Courtney in a corner.”

He stood up, adjusting his jacket.

“Courtney is the weak link,” Vance continued. “If she hears herself on that tape aiding the assault, she will confess to avoid federal prison.”

“And Ethan?” I asked.

“He is still negotiating,” Vance said. “His lawyer is trying to get him probation in exchange for his full testimony.”

My father stood up, his posture rigid.

“No probation,” my father said. “He let them hurt my daughter.”

“That will be up to the federal judge, Colonel,” Vance said gently.

The hallway outside grew noisy as a medical cart rolled past.

My phone buzzed again in my hand.

It was a video file from the same unknown number.