“He paid her,” I whispered, the air leaving my lungs. “He bought the social worker.”

Nathan’s jaw set so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.

“That is why the temporary removal order was signed so quickly,” Nathan said.

“How did we get this?” I asked, looking at the unknown number on the screen.

“It doesn’t matter who sent it,” Nathan said, standing up. “It matters how we use it.”

He grabbed his wool overcoat from the back of the chair.

“We need to get to the courthouse,” he said. “Our hearing starts in twenty minutes.”

We walked out of the hotel lobby and into the cold Nashville rain.

The wind was biting, carrying the smell of wet asphalt and car exhaust.

Nathan held a large black umbrella over my head as we hurried to his vehicle.

The drive downtown was silent except for the steady slap of the windshield wipers.

I stared at the gray stone facade of the Davidson County Courthouse as we pulled up.

My stomach was tied in knots.

Inside, the courthouse smelled of floor wax, wet umbrellas, and old paper.