I parked in the lot of a twenty-four-hour diner on the edge of the city.

Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the car cabin, I opened the ledger again.

I took out my phone and took clear, high-resolution photographs of every page marked with red ink.

My fingers trembled as I focused the camera on Daniel’s signature.

It was a younger version of his current signature, but the distinctive, sharp sweep of the ‘C’ was unmistakable.

I sent three of the photos to an encrypted email address I had set up.

Then, I drafted a short message to Charles Sterling’s private email.

*Charles, we need to discuss the 1987 financial audits before the board meeting tomorrow morning.*

*I have the original ledger from the county clinic.*

*Let’s make sure your name isn’t on the next public disclosure.*

I hit send.

My phone buzzed almost immediately.

I thought it was Charles, but it was another text from the unknown number.

*You can’t run forever, Emily. The boys are asking for their mother.*

A wave of anger washed over me, replacing the fear.