“I kept the original chart,” Martha said, pushing the file into my hands. “The hospital records show she was never there, but this proves she was.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice shaking as I tucked the file into my manila folder.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my coat pocket.

The screen lit up with an incoming text message from an unknown number.

I swiped the screen and saw an image of my station wagon parked outside.

The photo had been taken from the back of the black SUV across the street.

A second text appeared immediately afterward.

It was a message from Daniel’s primary custody attorney, Richard Vance.

“Emily, we have just filed an emergency injunction to seal all historical archives of the Westside Clinic,” the text read.

I stared at the screen, my blood turning to ice.

“We are also reviewing the billing records for your mother’s current care at Metropolitan Hospital,” the message continued.

I looked out the kitchen window, toward the dark street where the SUV sat idling.

My phone buzzed again with a PDF attachment.