“Get into that office, Detective,” I pleaded.

“Before he burns those books.”

“I’m already on my way to the judge to sign the warrant,” Sullivan said.

“We’re going to search his home office and his corporate suite.”

“Keep your door locked, Natalie.”

“I’ll call you the second we find something.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone to my lap.

The afternoon sun was fading, casting long, dark shadows across the hospital room floor.

The smell of antiseptic was heavy and sharp.

Rachel walked over and checked the IV line in my arm.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m angry,” I said.

“I spent years believing I was the problem.”

“They made me feel like I was crazy.”

“You weren’t crazy,” Rachel said gently.

“You were a target.”

She adjusted the pillow behind my head.

“But the target is fighting back now.”

I looked down at my bandaged hands.

The skin was tight and painful, but the fire inside me was stronger than the burn.

“They thought they could erase me,” I whispered.

“They thought I would just disappear.”