“I will double your fare if you get there in ten,” I said.

The driver shifted into drive and pressed the gas pedal.

I clutched the blue binder against my ribs.

Inside were the laboratory reports from my mother’s medical file.

The pages showed the high levels of toxic chemicals in the blood samples of the factory workers.

It proved Daniel’s company had falsified the safety data for twenty years.

It was the leverage I needed, but it meant nothing if he took my sons out of the country.

I dialed the number of the police precinct.

“This is Emily Carter,” I told the dispatcher. “My husband has just taken my two sons in violation of a court custody order.”

“Is there an active custody agreement?” the dispatcher asked.

“Yes,” I said. “A judge signed the temporary order yesterday afternoon.”

“I have the physical document in my hand.”

“What is the father’s name and vehicle description?”

“Daniel Carter,” I said. “He is driving a black Lincoln Navigator.”

“They are heading to the private charter terminal at the city airfield.”