The detective stood up, taking the flash drive with him.

“Stay here,” he said.

“I am going to get the assistant district attorney to sign off on these warrants immediately.”

The heavy door clicked shut behind him, leaving us in the quiet room.

My father turned to me, his green eyes fierce.

“They are going to pay for this, Hannah,” he said.

“Every single one of them.”

I looked down at the scratched laminate table, my mind racing back to the house in the suburbs.

The house Patricia wanted so badly that she was willing to starve my son to force my hand.

Ten minutes passed in silence before the door to the interview room opened again.

It wasn’t Miller.

It was a young officer in uniform, his face pale.

“Colonel Bennett?” the officer said.

“We have a situation at the hospital.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

My father stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the gray linoleum.

“What situation?” he demanded.

“Is it Owen?” I asked, my voice cracking as I stood up beside him.